© Bruce Goodman 1 July 2015
I find the ottava rima’s structured form
A little false and a clumsy thing to use;
But as a bright new verse should be healthy born
Then why not use this handy ruse as a muse?
I guess such discipline stops us writing corn
Or drivel and helps us lest we might abuse.
All in all I write what words I like a bit;
I break the rules for, really, who gives a shit?
Those stanza’s syllables numbered eleven
Henceforth each line will number dead on ten.
Nerds who count will think they’ve gone to heaven;
They’d be in hell if more escaped my pen.
Just for fun I’m tempted to try seven,
But would it be ottava rima then?
Iambic feet should have been used a bit;
But I break rules for, really, who gives a shit?
Now for a stanza that neither rhymes nor scans
Henceforth no rhyme or rhythm needs be used.
What a wonderful ottava rima you’ve got there!
Heightened language! It’s like a Greek epic!
A Nordic saga, only shorter, or a free-verse limerick.
I’ve changed the poem’s form around a bit;
For, really, in the long run, who gives a shit?