My English teacher (who's a Mark Twain scholar) had us do a poetry anthology, with other authors and our own. The only thing is, she REQUIRED certain forms =| Here is my quatrain(s); those there is a couplet...hehe.
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Stuck in the ground,
Still hard times in bright times
Always coming and leaving,
Always at the right time.
The shadows, they yearn
Not for pity, but concern -
Following to the end,
One duty that cannot bend.
Stepping and dancing, these shadows
Mimic our actions;
We are marionettes controlling
Every movement, even rash ones.
Climb a mountain, they're climb too
Stuck in your foot, staring at you -
Work to the gallows,
They'll do it for you.
Yet, no appreciation
Only rest is when night comes.
Even then, the post lights
Still drag them to guide us.
They're tired, sick and tired
The real only one thing they desire...
Go turn off the lights
Keep them away,
All the shadows want
Is to come out and play.
