On meter in verse

A verse with lines with even feet
Relentless marches on to meet
A future line without a pause
Until at last the final clause.

But if the count of feet is odd instead,
It puts a pause to break the plodding tread.
The pause can help each line be its own thought,
All tied together with a rhyming knot.

Every other syllable’s an easy foot to write in,
A steady speaking cadence much like prose by meter brightened.
Simple words are easy, erudition hard to use;
Plain to read, it’s meaning rarely comes from metric cues.

Every third syllable waltzes along,
Happily lilting as if ’twere a song.
Less like most speaking, it can feel quite strange.
Propinquitous rarely, it must be arranged.