Analysis of Spoiled Fruit
Purplish-red in my mind's-eye the bruise
Yea, Liberty she's called, but we all lose.
Forward turn wheels she's tipping the balance
Yea, Justice for all, she's blinded by trance.
Survivors are slipping through cracks and creeping,
And ever more virulent their prose,
Exponentially they spread their horrifying dread,
Watch as the spoiled fruit grows.
| Scheme | A A X X X B X B |
|---|---|
| Poetic Form | |
| Metre | 101011101 1100111111 1011110010 1101111011 01011011010 010110011 01001111001 110111 |
| Closest metre | Iambic pentameter |
| Characters | 342 |
| Words | 54 |
| Sentences | 3 |
| Stanzas | 8 |
| Stanza Lengths | 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1 |
| Lines Amount | 8 |
| Letters per line (avg) | 35 |
| Words per line (avg) | 7 |
| Letters per stanza (avg) | 35 |
| Words per stanza (avg) | 7 |
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Submitted on June 19, 2010
Modified on March 05, 2023
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"Spoiled Fruit" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 29 Apr. 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem-analysis/84911/spoiled-fruit>.
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