Ode to Iambic

Through iambic pentameter I sing! Without thee nary a poem I'd put down. Break the ice? In a pickle? No such thing. Had not found a home in this word town. Yet not all that glitters is syllabic. And perhaps not all the world's a stanza. To be pentameter of the iambic Or not to be? What a real bonanza! The world is your gooey lump in a shell. Join the wild goose chase or move to Carmel.