wintering
there's nothing really happening
everything is just a softening
inside a 32 inch cage a clock ticks on in emptiness
and deep within
where fears begin
and all men ruin
a bird hatches a fever breaks a mother shakes
Being treated lowly hurts a lot
They claimed to own me - they do not
they only found a way to anger me
but i don't give anger power over me
No vice nor virtue can define me
I control my own sweet destiny
they can't predict my sideways action
in strife, I strafe & keep on laughing
If simple fear could drive me batty
I'd be sipping tall boys with the natties
in other words, I'd still be where I came from
No one can control my tongue nor bic
as long as ink and blood have flick
hydrant of life and spark of wit
toward audience I dare remit
my coarsest verse & will posit
my worst thought crimes upon this page
There's nothing really happening
Everything is just a softening
I like to hide out in the places
between where I exist
and where I do not
I am a fine structure
one in one hundred thirty seven
there's nothing really happening
everything is just a softening
so cold, so cold.
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Submitted on January 04, 2021
Modified on March 05, 2023
- 1:06 min read
- 29 Views
Quick analysis:
Scheme | AA bccdx eeff ffda fbx gghhxx AA xxe xdAA x |
---|---|
Closest metre | Iambic tetrameter |
Characters | 1,094 |
Words | 213 |
Stanzas | 10 |
Stanza Lengths | 2, 5, 4, 4, 3, 6, 2, 3, 4, 1 |
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"wintering" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 29 Apr. 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem/59789/wintering>.
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