Pick a line from the poem above..

Thank-you EarlyMorning - I love yours, they have such a lovely rhythm to them xx


and those that are unkind will fall
to deep and shadowed thoughts..
memories of the midnight echoes
scowling through the Dawn..

Thank you.

Yes I always write in either syllabic verse or iambic pentameter.

I think the attraction came from wanting things to be symmetrical and in pairs and so this style appealed to me whilst learning poetry as a child.

Scowling through the dawn here comes the sun
to show the world a new day has begun
He does not care of silence he is breaking
The world is simply his there for the taking

Ready and willing you must quickly be
Can you not hear the bird up in the tree
warning you that the new day has begun
It's your turn now to scowl back at the sun

It's your turn now to scowl back at the sun..
for twilight is woven
and night has begun..

A footstep
a whisper
a glimmer of moon..

A howl through the shadows
a glimpse through the gloom..

Music is playing
so near.. yet so far..
the rhythm is turning
a dance through the stars..

A howl through the shadows
a glimpse through the gloom..
on worn out lace footsteps
the rhythm is spun..

A breath on the window
the frosted glass pane..
Icicles sparkle
the sun and the rain..

A breath on the window, life to unlife.
Warmth, tenderly touches that with none.
Clouds gather on ether, neither here or there.

The world pushes, it edges, closer all the time.
It comes unto sufferance and wounds me again.
Pressure and pain, the knife of the city drags cold.

No brother is this man, with his arms and spiel.
Twisted by shadow and light, the truth wins out.
Lies and locutions, serve none and all at once.

Insanity my shelter and home, warm and welcome.
Shrove my limb to the cold light of present day.
Burnished and bound, the wound weeps again.

Tender keening, warms my heart, I gain while I lose.
The joy of giving, out pouring till I give out.
Pains leave my body, but so does the will to go on.

Clouds gather on ether, neither here nor there
rain soaked promises hiss on the sidewalk
as the sun glowers angrily from his throne in the torn sky
and tired little tendrils whisper despair..

as the sun glowers angrily from his throne in the torn sky
blink away the treacherous drops threatening to spill from your eyes
as his gaze bleaches your fortitude
my love, lay down your head

yearning for comfort, you dream of our haven beneath the trees
of its gentle dappled light filtering softly to your feet
drink your fill of its serenity
my soul, still your dread

Pinched from the previous two.

As the sun glowers angrily from his throne in the torn sky
The trembling hubris of the hand of struggle
That white field of small acre is bare to roam
Man's plow tills the rich soil, turning it to red
Over and over the ground is kerf to sew
Deeper in search of hidden life's rich yield
Turned through and trough the earth is bared
And tiny little tendrils whisper despair
To tears of sorrowful anguish and hollow regret

Done this on my phone, sorry for any typos

(slight diversion but hope you don't mind)

Done this on my phone, sorry for any typos..
the creator tiredly thumbed the send key on his screen..
Rushing to finish off the days work before the sky darkened
..and thunder growled through the deep..

frowning as he pondered how one slip can lead to destruction..
desolate hills cried
as weary trees bowed their head in sleep..