Through the Mist of Words
The eye wanders, warily, unfocused
Troubadours, lost, seeking poetic pen
Magical wand finding no hocus pocus
Minstrel, languishing, no verses to lend
Barbs squandered, set aside as precocious
Tragic? …No common, now take a new spin
Through the mist of appreciated rhymes
Poetic stanzas now dare to cross lines
© Debra Squyres ( 8-20-14)
Written for: Nette’s “Through the Mist” members contest
Using the form “ottava rima” for the first time.
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