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Writing out poetry, line upon line,
As the Summer rain, silently, dripped down the window,
I solemnly scribed every rhyme upon rhyme,
Forging sentiment slowly distilled from the page.
Whimsical musings yet tinted the scenery -
Colourful, fancy and folly imbued –
As the wondrous flashes of visual tapestry
Filled me with passionate fervour renewed.
In this poem I strictly adhered to a dactylic metre (the title itself; a dactyl) as it was the first poem I wrote after I had begun to actually study the basic precepts of poetic metre. So many modern poets appear to disavow such strict adherence to poetic metre (perhaps they find the form dated, simplistic, or stifling?) but I really enjoy the musical qualities of such poetry.
Vexren4000 Jun 2017
Wingspans stretching wider than car bodies,
Gliding over pre-historic vistas,
The dinos below ants to the flying beast.
A bird before birds,
A lizard of the sky,
Before they fall or land,
Before the time of man,
Where he could snipe them from the sky,
A time of strange peace amidst the struggle,
Of natural selection.

Paul Hansford May 2016
A site I used to post to had a somewhat unhelpful, not to say discouraging,  line when you had posted a poem and nobody had commented it.

“There is no comment submitted by members.”
Nobody bothers; nobody cares;
nobody gives a hoot how my work fares
– or they mean to say something, but no-one remembers.

The fire of my passion is reduced to grey embers;
the most piercing of glances just meet with dull stares.
There is no comment submitted by members.
Nobody bothers; nobody cares.

Like summers of hope fading into Septembers,
or flowers I’ve grown being smothered with tares,
I search and I search but, despite all my prayers,
I read once again, with a chill like December’s,
“There is no comment submitted by members.”
The form is a Rondel, and its mostly in dactyls (a three-syllable beat).

— The End —