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The Pen is Mightier than the Sword

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Posted (edited)

He stands alone in the pasture now,

the grass once green is now frozen.

His days exist as a memory,

of times in which he once felt chosen.

 

No sun shines on his meadow,

no birds sing songs in the trees.

Happier times were once known here,

but now all is lost to the freeze.

 

Wind blows 'cross the furrows,

nothing stirs in her wake.

He stands alone feeling her cold,

and does his best not to quake.

 

But the pasture now lies silent,

and he stands unmoving, too.

Wind blows cold and unyielding,

while he stands waiting anew.

 

 

-not fin

Edited by Kendricke
Posted

A interesting (so far) fragment. I, personally, like they rhyme. You do it well, so it doesn't feel constricting to me.

Is it intentional that you sometimes start lines with a trochee instead of an iamb (for those who aren't deeply into terminology, that is syllables going strong weak instead of iambs which go weak strong)

I will definitely read the rest of this when (if) you post it. Really, you should come here more often ;).

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