Lament
I miss yesterday. Today
I'm alone. You went your way
and left me to dry like a
withered weed that's blown away,
just bits of crumbling hay.
You pass by me every day,
never stop, keep walking on.
Have I gone that far astray?
Do you think weeds ever die?
Or do they simply go dry
and brown? Sometimes I feel I
want to know, and sometimes my
only heartfelt wish is to lie
beneath them in stone. Where's my
solace? Oh, please grant me some.
God, just give me one more try.
|
Cyrch a Chwta.
The Cyrch a Chwta is an octave stanza made up of six lines rhyming a plus a final couplet rhyming ba, with the penultimate b line rhyming into the center of the last line. Each line is heptasyllabic (7 syllables).
|
-Cyrch a Chwta-
Forms Main |
prev | next
|
|
