Today prompt was to write an ottava rima: an Italian poetic form that, in English, has the form of an eight-line stanza of iambic pentameter, with a rhyme scheme of a-b-a-b-a-b-c-c. My poem for the day should probably be longer and I’m not sure it follows iambic pentameter correctly. You be the judge.
By Nathan Marchand
I entered my speech for fun,
With no expectations of winning.
But to my surprise, I won.
The shock kept me from grinning.
“This can’t be true. I must be done.”
However, it was only the beginning.
I would stand before the proud legion
To give my graduation speech about Lincoln.
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