Eight-line turns me off, and I don't mean maybe.
Need just five to be takin' me where I'm bound.
"Paradise Lost" runs on and does dismay me--
Were I John's editor, I'd cut down.

I'm crankin' more out of five lines:
A-A-B-B-A.
I'm thrivin' with five jive lines,
Aimin' for wordplay.
I use redactation
If to six I move.

I'm crankin' more out of five lines;
They're rank and short and rude.

I'll talk about scans now, baby; anapestic
Predominates in terms of the poem's metric foot.
Talk about punny: it's an epidemic--
Any chance I get, one in I'll put.

I'm crankin' more out of five lines
[That's the first line A].
I'm thrivin' with five jive lines,
[Syllable short, you'd say].
I use redactation;
There's an emendation
[The OL removed].
I've cranked past four; no swive lines.

And this one bores; ain't rude.