Iamb-ivalent

I like the way the rhythm sounds,
the way the stresses make their rounds.
These scattered phrases have their beat,
but still they trip on their own feet.

Iamb a poet without a cause,
a rebel p(r)oser who’ll take a pause
at any offer to count or pounce
or measure syllables by the ounce.

Let’s give our bouncing pens a break,
count only blessings, for goodness sake.

 

 

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prompted by quickly.