I am/ not sure/ of all/ the rules/
I thought/ that they/ were all/ for fools
But now/ I know/ that it/ is good
And I/ o/bey/ like I/ sh/ould

When I/ have fears/ that I/ may cease/ to be
I met/ a trv'ller/ from an/ an/tique land
Shall I/ com/pare thee to/ a sum/ers day?

a calendar
circe
borne of its radiation
like a weed freshet grown
striving life from the harsh
striations
a douse of summer
freezing into snow

time
when summer softness
blew a heat sufertuge
of colour
on sculpted cheeks
thin with hunger
appellate desire
a consumption of wolves
blown like black
sirens
through forest
citidels

wear a coat of arms
and put ones heart
in a jar

Sweeter dreams
liquid laced

sun sparkles upon leaves
billowing in falls air

untouched
gazing through
the once washed panes

dreams edge fade
upon stark realties

lovers lost
a betrayal
Suns warmth regresses to frost

Stare upon the vacant white screen
Feeling naught
As I sip
Unconcerned

Laugher through fingers slip
Dialling for relief
Cost delinquent
Assumed for further ignorance

To err is human
to lead is but natural
to fight and win
is a desire
of all normal

only the brave bold and beautiful
differ,

they want to be always a leader
and
hate intervention
as we all dislike to be deferred
and
so we fight from the higher planes we exist
our position hope no one alters
nor us does desist

Writing poetry is fun of course if
you are keen on writing 'bout what touches.
Penning what might strike and hit the senses,
poetry is more than words on canvas.

1. “When I have FEARS that I may CEASE to BE…” (Keats)

2. “I MET a TRAV’ller FROM an ANtique LAND.” (Shelley)

3. “Shall I comPARE thee TO a SUMmer’s DAY?” (Shakespeare)

So here I write a trenchant little verse
which stands like rigid hemp upon the shore
and through the terms strike daily to disperse
my laxness into discipline and more

Ron

Many years have fled since I looked within
That I lost the touch and sight I loved
Having turned now asking you of loving
Can we start our love in pastures greener?

Ian.T

sunlight
reflects
from dilated
pupils
as introspective
contemplations pour
into sour sweat
that accentuate the stench
of self worth
enclosed in
the savage essence
of being.

Written by MDT View profile MDT
Published 17th September 2013 12:59pm
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission

"Iamb" is Greek for "to attack in words". "Trochee" is Greek for "running".

Both of these forms are known as "Duble Meter" as each metric foot uses but two syllables.

Here then is my Trochaic example.

Don’t you think it’s keen to write Trochaic?

Here I’ve written something for the workshop.

Nothing short of drivel, but it’s metric.

Simply done, its form is but example.

Don’t you / think it’s / keen to / write Tro- / cha-ic?