Read this excerpt from a poem:
i now delight
in spite
of the might
and the right
of classic tradition,
in writing
and reciting
straight ahead,
without let or omission,
just any little rhyme
in any little time
that runs in my head;
what is the structure of the poem?

Six benches were left empty in every ship that evening when we pulled away from death. and this new grief we bore with us to sea: our precious lives we had, but not our friends. no ship made sail next day until some shipmate had raised a cry, three times, for each poor ghost unfleshed by the cicones on that field.