My Ten Foot Descent

I wanted to see if I could write in perfect meter, i guess it is called iambic when it is 5 feet? This is my attempt, a first draft only...feel free to hack it to pieces.... To those who write and words of mine they meet To say lay flaws in theme and rhymes and feet, Our minds alike for I can see it well That from the heights of written graces fell, My words clothe none, nor comfort sad or poor, It’s best I lay my quill and write no more. From my weak mind these thoughts come forth and breathe Like they have rights to live and want and need, Such malformed phrases from my mind doth spew My company speaks nothing fresh or new, My hopes remain; my words shall not be seen By public eyes till I can wash them clean. My mind paints dreams as vivid as the sun But ink betrays and justice does it none, My hand, my scribe, lost touch with words to say Like storm-torn pilgrims who have lost their way, In times before I laughed but now I cry For without words don’t poets slowly die? I wait for dreams to bless my blank-blocked head For words of mine in print to then be read, To move the minds and souls to smiles and tears To leave behind their lives, abandon cares, For all they teach, the right, the wit, the wrong, So guide my hand and bid me come along.

menoh

I am a button pusher. I stir up trouble. It is what I do. I live in the borders between light and dark. I can write about beautiful things, and joy and love, but I find I am more creative when i write about the dark. I love to hold a mirror up to the...

More about me