Moebuis strip
I never got that trip
lard on toast
peanut butter on a
cracker the crumbs
disturbing sleep
the room an attic
of ongoing principles
and sweated ideals
sleep apnea
I wore my crazy hat
and went out overdressed
as if I was to head off overland
in shiny Biltmore blacks
I never had the good boots
gumbo ankle sucking tours
dust and grit in July swelter
black ribbon of cloth
and cheap cracked knock
off shades

I know I shall sleep in death one day
To wake up for questions
About the path I now tread
Of course, as a master of my fate.

But that does not make me lazy to know
That my only chance for survival is to keep moving forward
Knowing there are miles to go before I sleep
To wake up on that faithful day

Yes I shall die
An act that proves I am mortal.
An act that proves that am inferior
The blueprint to my wonderful existence.

The never setting sunsets

As the sunsets
Today I stand
in its glory
so many have I witnessed
ere
long seven decades since

Today I feel
all alone
bereft of someone
I could call my own

The sun sets
not in its past glory
it sets today
just as a usual story

I alone watch it,
in dying blankness
as it spreads
its rainbow wings

Come and see
along with me
the sun never sets
know ye

.
The metronome of time is sly,
for it ticks silently,
allowing the illusion of forever,

and then, when you least expect it,
its fabric disintegrates.

When my son died
I mourned for the baby
cried for the toddler
and grieved for the lad.
But he was a grown man
with babes of his own.

So came the realisation
everything past is dead.

'Twas only then I understood
I'd lost them long ago.
.

Like a ship sailing into the horizon, not knowing what to expect when it gets there, guided by the sun & stars above, blinded by desire and hope, letting mother nature lead the way, trusting her completely, because she is our home.

.
Iambic

I've lost desire to write of joy or fear,
and lately found all others' ideas drear.
Perhaps this shop will help me find some bliss
and somehow write less boring stuff than this.

~~~~~

Trochee

I am
Just a piece of driftwood floating
through the seas - erosive, tranquil,
practicing the art of noting,
savouring each gifted sample.

~~~~~

Going Mad (example of iambic pentameter exercise)

Do not/ attempt/ to kill / the king /alone!

Your has/-ti-ness/ will on/-ly leads/ to death.

Must I/ re-peat/ our plan / a-gain/ you fool?

In pots by my doorway,
the lavender’s floral notes
are written in the spidery hand
of Edwardian petticoats.
Legions of maiden aunts
with talcum powder skin
bestowing spinster kisses
from a wrinkled, whiskered chin.

Will I become a memory
evoked by summer scents
Will I dance in, on the breeze
once my life is spent.

I read it as it sounded in my head
https://soundcloud.com/user-391664655/scent

We all are a part of Snowman's SONNET workshop

Your sonnet is perfect
but for my weakness of identifying syllables
can you remark this beautiful piece

so that we all can learn
where 'tis iambic
where trochee
and
the two more
dactyl etc
and
also let all know
some thing about
scansions
what it means....

a dull waffling piffling
still poet me
once loved
now ly
added loved
don't add wanker
as does
jess
to your virtues
I address