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whistful, whistful
just a little excercise in iambic octameter
so silent are her eyes to me I'm whistful, whistful, hoping still does love exist where naught could be and will her heart be mine one day with hope I see our bodies touch my mind is racing moments by where skin is joined by passion's call and dripping lips engulf my soul |
The poem is interesting...
But I'm just stunned that someone else actually knows what "Iambic Octameter" means. And how to use it, too. :) |
Since it's an exercise, drop the last two words of each verse, shortening the last line to six sylables. See how it changes the poem? What do you think?
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i like it. it's serene, mellow and sweet. hope to see more from you.
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Lovely......I hope she appreciates it as much as me.
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hmm
I like your dance of words, fleeting the topic at hand while ever so subtley hinting at the outcome I really haven't found much to offer on this one, it is a very solid piece. Even your repitition, which we both don't like all that much, is used in a great formation. Bravo! |
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