Iamb Trying Amateur Pentameter Poem by C Richard Miles

An exercise was posed to tax my mind
Where I was asked to write, with measured thought,
Ten syllables in each assembled line
To practise ancient esoteric arts
As Shakespeare did with sonnets in the past.
The challenge was quite clear which had been set:
Eschewing rhyme as well to make it hard,
I followed the instructions all the way
And tried to emulate more famous bards;
(That nearly rhymed, but it had been made clear
That couplets were the things I should avoid.)
And so I have achieved what I was asked:
I wrote a poem with a certain beat
That made it swing along in perfect time;
It did not rhyme but rhythm let it go
And flow as natural as normal speech.
My amateur attempts to carry on
In strict pentameter seemed vain and crass
But iambs drove the metre all the while
And managed to create this pointless ode.