She gazed out to sea
In the hope to see
He who was swept from shore
Fifteen days before,
With nothing to show
But the moon’s glow
And a distant star
Bright and far
Like a small boat
On a dark sea, afloat;
And no sign of he
Who drowned at sea
Fifteen days before
From the surf kissed shore.
She listened to the tide
Which had nothing to hide
As it swept the shore
As it did before
When her husband died
On an outgoing ride
Of the tide and sea
With its distant roar
As it had before
Fifteen nights ago
Beneath the moon’s glow
And the bright star
Like a ship that is far
Off and away
In a dark distant bay.
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Comments: 8
Did a fair amount of rhymed poetry in the late 70s and early 80s, but not much recently. For me, at least, there were three components, "rhyme, reason and flow."
Two out of those three was easy, but the real skill came with adding a third without losing one of the other two -- sort of like biting on a meatball sandwich (a submarine role stuffed with meat balls): bite on one end and a meatball invariably squirts out the other.