Holy cow. I found a bunch of old poems that I wrote in college. I’ll be trickling these out for the benefit of you, my readers.
Since my teaching of poetry is very Shakespeare-oriented, I stress writing some creative samples in iambic pentameter — which, I know, is a lot to ask. I know because I myself struggle whenever I try to do regular meter. Here’s one attempt.
Winding Up, Letting Go
They tucked a breath and counted four to one.
And like a starting gun, they fired out noise;
Spitting out songs the boys had learned before
In two rehearsals, tore the wall apart.
But no one listened; hearts and lives rolled by.
The crowd like stone, not trying to like or feel
The pulse that shook their meals, the clocking air.
The band just had to bear it, move on
From count to beat to song to pause to song
Again. One law to follow on a night
Like this, just one thing right: get through the set.
Lock in, punch out, and say we won’t relent.
Then pack the instruments for the next gig.