I walk
through halls
of such
unease,
where once
our joys
would waft
the breeze.
All fun
and joy
have left
this place...
despair
and fear
now etch
my face.
But oh,
where shall
we go
from here
to find
again
new hope
and cheer?
Can we,
as one,
learn to
rotate?
Is it
too late
to change
our fate?
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| Writing Prompt |
Write a poem in Iambic Monometer. That's TWO SYLLABLES per line. Your poem must have at least TWELVE LINES. Keep it clean.
Example:
Breath
If breath
is all
I'm left,
if life
has lost
it's zest,
if there's
no hill
to climb,
no dreams
to dream,
just time
that looms
in front
of me,
no verve
and no
esprit,
then please
bestill
my breath,
that I
might meet
sweet death.
By: Adewpearl
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