poem #7

David Plantinga 1972 (Sherbrooke)



The sheets and blankets are too big
For such a little bed.  
They drape their fringes on the floor,
And dribble dreams with red.

The brain can’t sluice the nightmares out
Though a grate stopped with cloth.  
Thick curtains collect spiderwebs
And flutterings of moths.
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Submitted by DavidPlantinga on April 23, 2021

Modified on March 05, 2023

13 sec read
4

Quick analysis:

Scheme XAXA XXBB
Closest metre Iambic tetrameter
Characters 264
Words 45
Stanzas 2
Stanza Lengths 4, 4

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    "poem #7" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 18 Apr. 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem/98111/poem-#7>.

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