Anapestic Poem

The Cloud

I am the daughter of Earth and Water,
And the nursling of the sky;
I pass through the pores of the oceans and shores;
I change, but I cannot die.
For after the rain when with never a stain
The pavillion of Heaven in bare,
And the winds and the sunbeams with their convex gleams
Build up the blue dome of air,
I silently laugh at my own cenotaph,
And out of the caverns of rain,
Like a child from the womb, like a ghost from the tomb,
I arise and unbuild it again.

Trochaic Poems Adrift Summer Lunber

Daylight dims, preparing minds to lay hush
during talbeus under lunar spotlight
Canvas tells of tragedy through a brush
gripped by vagrant fingers filled with frostbite

Eyelids serving as view points for foreseight
drift from shallow senses to deeper thoughts.
Tinted shadows will froth forth in twilight
fog and bloom the blankets at fifty knots.

Numb sensations wash the deck off a yacht
soaked upon the salivating ocean,
thus the dreams of peaceful retirement caught
gulping down in sudden weightless motion.

Razor white-caps floss with remnants of hull;
waves of slumber clash inside the old skull.

Blog about Blogging

I do not like to blog. I think its kind of a waste of time and I'd rather read facts about people than read their opinions. My public speaking class makes us blog too and it gets annoying. I suppose I don't mind it every once in a while but its just gets old after a while.