Iambs—a trial, once in a while,
But I can leave
Them behind and have a smile.
My poet plan
I’d like to share:
I love that anapestic flair.

I don’t like two
Beats; they don’t please me—
This meter mostly I’ve spurned.
I shall eschew
Measures that aren’t three;
They give me choler—
My back is turned.
They give me choler

Can’t understand that Avon man;
His stuff’s duh-DUM—
Five of them in most line scans.
For me what rules
Is not a pair;
I love it, that duh-duh-DUM fare.

I don’t eschew
Fives in poetry.
When it come to lines—not spurned.
Of B’s, there’s two
And of A’s, there’s three,
That’s how I count ’em.
Thirteen beats yearned. . .
That’s how I count ’em

Iambs are vile. . .don’t make me smile,
And so I leave
Them behind for triplet style.