Analysis of Dried Apricot, or Friday Lunch
I nestled my teeth into the flesh of a dried apricot,
Squishy, not firm,
Sweet, succulent, favored fruit,
And I bit into a bone.
My thoughts were these:
How the sweetest things in life always have the bitterest of endings;
Why I always desire to be the person I once was, rather than the person I am now;
How the most promising of beginnings can yield the most horrifying conclusions;
How the normal course of events can become upended in an instant;
And of how I must now content myself with being a sad poet,
Noting these dismal observations, and shaping the language in a way that effectively communicates them,
And extracting for the world sublime truths from what seem like the blandest of occurrences.
Scheme | ABCDEFGHIJKL |
---|---|
Poetic Form | |
Metre | 11011010110110 1011 1100101 0110101 1101 1010101110100110 11101011010111101010111 10110010101101100010 1010110110110110 0111111011100110 10110010010010001101000101 001010101111110110100 |
Closest metre | Iambic octameter |
Characters | 696 |
Words | 125 |
Sentences | 2 |
Stanzas | 1 |
Stanza Lengths | 12 |
Lines Amount | 12 |
Letters per line (avg) | 47 |
Words per line (avg) | 10 |
Letters per stanza (avg) | 566 |
Words per stanza (avg) | 125 |
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"Dried Apricot, or Friday Lunch" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 29 Apr. 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem-analysis/53721/dried-apricot%2C-or-friday-lunch>.
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