The dirge of damp dreams scream
plumes of puce
streams
that carry the seed of Satan's spawn
to the charnel house

The rising tide miasma might meander
if not for the corner charnel room
where evil form
evil does what evil will
forever

rain limmerick
sharp as crystal
falling through
summers vents

passing
in gloss jewel
fragments

burgundy
gathered
on the iron
lip

falling
down
the dark
drain well

a thrown wish
coiled
bred
emerged

struck
smooth
tactile
the boney
verbs

rivers of nouns
and a hall
of stained nerves

Far off, in the eastern sky
there flies a ranging vulture;
as a shadow in the rising sun.

It is called across the desert
and its song is wind and woe.

As its somber feathers flutter
lifted on the lofty airs,
tortured currents sweep it higher,
bear it on its carrion's call.

In the east, the dying, calling,
sing the song of all the damned.
On the west the rain is falling,
falling for the words we lost.

I will not follow you into the heart path of hate
to be torn by the claws of the beast within.
I'd rather be beheaded
than commit this inner sin.

Though you stab me with multi layered raw emotions,
plunging down into my chest and twisting in.
better that my soul be flayed
than I rouse the beast within.

I will not let your demon take away the brightness
that quells the shadow scratching inside my skin.
Peering from my deep insides
through flesh that's paper thin.

to err, tis human..
.how doth thou sayest
thou in absence
and
Thy, where dostith cometh from
another poeter’s version
Thou sleeepest
like in tempest...

As I return from a worldly sojourn
was absent for a week
none notestist dis
not even thou
none will misseth us at all
that I doth vow!

fault a star
heaven ridden
heart with its wear
scar turns
the burning
fire
glittering
the shadow waver
brilliant as magik

I think of you
transcribed
atop the plan
of emotion

a treasure
over lay

Strike two Trochaic pentameter

Workshop critique: The Bottom Line
SI-lence | SCRATCH-ing | SNOW-y | BRANCH-less | FOR-est
WIT-ness | GLOW-ing | SCREECH-ing | EYES are | GROW-ing
GUN-shot | ROARS in | DIS-tant | BAN-shee | CHOR-us
SOUNDS as | LOUD as | REAP-ers | COM-ing | GO-ing

RON
Blue Demon77

What I want to be is what I was before the knife, before the bed,
before the brooch pin and the salve fixed me in this parenthesis:
Horses fluent in the wind. A place, a time gone out of mind.

The Eye-Mote Sylvia Plath

A way IS the PATH that YOU take FROM me
I wish THAT it WAS back THIS way YOU see
FOR if I was IN love WITH you, YOU know
I could NOT bear TO see YOU go, YOU know?

The WIND blew COLD and I shivERED niceLy
the LAND turned BROWN and WE saw TWO mice RUN
howlING gales RAN rathER fastER than ME
I COULD neVER see HOW some FOLKS have FUN

Here is my example of a Dactylic ditty. Remember, we are writing strict meter "for the workshop only". Seldom is Dactylic or Anapest used exclusively throughout a poem. Also, this is in Pentameter. Don't feel you must write Pentameter. Trimeter or Tetrameter will suffice. These are long feet and writing in Dactylic Pentameter is a stinker.

Harmony, musical, Dactylic, yes it’s hard, try it out.

Don’t be afraid though not ready to risk it and trust yourself.

Why does your teacher keep whining so spite your attempts at it?