Edward Iacona (August 27,1948 / Brooklyn, New York)
It was in ninth grade English class
And my teacher was Miss Joan Frank
It was because of her love of poetry,
That I now have her to blame or thank.
Poems came alive in her classroom
As we absorbed Lewis Caroll's whimsy
And many years later I still wonder what
And why, Borogoves are mimsey
We read of an ancient mariner and
The price of what omen's cost.
And stopped to ponder a snowy woods
While his little horse shook off the frost.
I have always preferred poems that rhyme
And although this might sound terse
I never have really understood the style
That is known as 'free verse'.
I and others will use that form
So I don't intend to create a gaffe
But, in the end is not 'Free Verse'
Just a well written paragraph?
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.