Published on the Ancient Paths Faceboo page on February 16, 2019.
My metrical sin never goes away, Though I try to measure all that I say. See that spondee? Like a thief, it slipped in, Spoiling my verse with unmusical din; Such is my curse—my words rarely obey!
An iambic home is where I would stay, Yet a prosaic ear leads me astray. Of my noted failings, the worst has been My metrical sin.
Like Paul, I fight an inherent decay, But knowledge alone can’t keep this at bay; I see the right steps before I begin, Yet, each time, my feet lose discipline. Oh, nothing I write can ever allay My metrical sin!