The following poem is an all-new work, the first time I've posted something that I haven't scrounged from my archives. [throws party] It's the second assignment from my Writing Poetry class, with the brief simply being to write something in Blank Verse: for those of you unfamiliar with the term, it's unrhymed iamic pentameter (each line has five pairs of syllables, with the first syllable unstressed and the second stressed), and the standard form of poetry for the last five hundred years. I wouldn't say this poem rivals the likes of Shakespeare and Milton (the two most famous users of Blank Verse), but I'm still rather proud of it. At the very least, I like it enough to show it to you guys.
So, enjoy...
The Time Capsule
He doesn’t recognize them anymore.
She couldn’t give away and won’t take back.
What use would baby Sam have for that book?
His father’s not so nice when he’s released.
But only Asda ever came for him.
A masterpiece he’s still yet to surpass.
“I cut my eyes with the shards of my broken dreams.”
He now as over fifty of all three.
The rest of her body has followed suit.
Guess what became of that hopeful future?
1 comment:
hmmm...maybe I don't appreciate the style, or maybe I'm just stupid. I understand the point, it's just...I guess, it was empty? I dunno. Other people may think otherwise.
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