More experimentation with meter, this time using the opposite of dactylic tetrameter: anapest.
Lost in Thought
There’s a cobweb that’s spread in the back of my mind
and it’s harvesting dust motes like fish in a net:
gray scales burgeoning through the meshwork intertwined;
it holds something I want, but I can’t find it yet.
If I cut the snare open, release each stray thought,
oh, the whirlwind I’ll reap as they all fly away,
and I never will find in the chaos I’ve wrought—
amid lint, grit, and grime—gold that drifted astray.
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1 comment:
Oh, I wish that I couldn't relate to this.
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