The night sky stumbled, lost in thought
And caught up under slippered foot
By the scattered playthings of the dusk--
Pillows, tinsel, drifts of cotton wool, and
Brightly coloured sheets of fingerpainted
Foolscap paper. Gathering her haughty skirts,
Embroidered at the hem with silver coins
And lined with lightly patterned silk of
Deeply pleated royal blue, she turned an
Elegant and stately pirouette and flung her
Arms toward the bashful moon.
Oct 31, 2016
Oct 31, 2016 at 2:39 AM UTC
The night sky stumbled, lost in thought
And caught up under slippered foot
By the scattered playthings of the dusk--
Pillows, tinsel, drifts of cotton wool, and
Brightly coloured sheets of fingerpainted
Foolscap paper. Gathering her haughty skirts,
Embroidered at the hem with silver coins
And lined with lightly patterned silk of
Deeply pleated royal blue, she turned an
Elegant and stately pirouette and flung her
Arms toward the bashful moon.
I added this as one of my first poems on HP, but I've made a few crucial edits and it reads vastly better now. I know free verse is the dominant form (and has been so for the past century, in one way or another) and I write in this mode myself quite a bit but I like the rhythmic drive meter lends - this poem is written entirely in iambs and trochees and it's satisfying to feel the specific rhythm this meter creates.
