The Derelict.... he wanders through the night.|
Past Factories, and then past open fields.
The Night time is his Cover, there concealed.
Alas It comes the dawning of the Day.
He knows there in,knows neither joy nor fright.
He rests a while before he's on his way.
© 2004 TheDetroitBulls
(All rights reserved)
|This poem was written for the Form Over Substance challenge,
hosted by Bronze Dragon. This week’s form is the:
The Wordsworth sestet uses Iambic Pentameter (our friend) and a
rhyme scheme of, a.b. b. c. a. c. This was originally used by
Wordsworth in a sonnet, but has since become an acceptable sestet
on its own.