The foghorn wailed, when at the bar
through scurvy teeth a sailor hissed
and slammed his fist. “Tonight I’m pissed”
the room went silent, barmaid jarred
remembered nights before the war
before her lover went to sea
before the news that killed her pleas
and now she saw in pockmarked face
the sailor’s eyes as dead as glass.
She watched him begging on his knees.
Tonight Gayle is teaching us the décima at dVerse MTB. The form we are doing is the version from Puerto Rico with 10 lines each having 8 syllables (My choice was to do tetrameter) with a rhymescheme A B B A A C C D D C. Come and join us when the bar opens at 3 PM EST.
April 20, 2016