04-13-2014, 01:22 PM
First, I'm not sure what this is, it's not iambic pentameter because there is no rhyme scheme, but this is my first attempt at metering? Is that the proper term? Please let me know what and where it's wrong so I can better grasp some of these concepts. Thank you
The Guy In Apartment Thirty - Three
With no certain rhythm he sat tapping,
the gaunt figure observed the time once more,
to him each day seemed to have a habit,
of constantly becoming night again,
and like - wise of night returning to day,
yet somehow it was always 3 am.
Lighting a cigarette was a rhythm
of its own, the motions automatic.
Bathing the man in sickly yellow light,
his pale sunken face glowed before the match.
Exhaling he extinguished the small flame,
blowing the smoke through the open window,
and out into the muggy August air.
"Out into the filthy city", he thought.
"Out there where twisted people do bad things."
"WHILE I ALWAYS WAIT", he screamed suddenly,
slamming his fist down onto the table.
Taking a drag he leaned back in his chair,
embers illuminated his dead face,
and in that light his blue eyes shown like ice.
A grandfather clock's rhythmic back and forth
he constantly watched the alley below.
Anxiously, his knuckles began rapping,
fingers tapping in no certain rhythm.
"It was always 3 am, always three."
Always waiting... from day to night to day....
Well there you have it, I'm not sure what it was aside from maybe practicing metrics? Any and all feedback appreciated, this is a learning process so don't go easy in the critique, I need to know everything that's wrong with it even if it's all of it. Thank you
The Guy In Apartment Thirty - Three
With no certain rhythm he sat tapping,
the gaunt figure observed the time once more,
to him each day seemed to have a habit,
of constantly becoming night again,
and like - wise of night returning to day,
yet somehow it was always 3 am.
Lighting a cigarette was a rhythm
of its own, the motions automatic.
Bathing the man in sickly yellow light,
his pale sunken face glowed before the match.
Exhaling he extinguished the small flame,
blowing the smoke through the open window,
and out into the muggy August air.
"Out into the filthy city", he thought.
"Out there where twisted people do bad things."
"WHILE I ALWAYS WAIT", he screamed suddenly,
slamming his fist down onto the table.
Taking a drag he leaned back in his chair,
embers illuminated his dead face,
and in that light his blue eyes shown like ice.
A grandfather clock's rhythmic back and forth
he constantly watched the alley below.
Anxiously, his knuckles began rapping,
fingers tapping in no certain rhythm.
"It was always 3 am, always three."
Always waiting... from day to night to day....
Well there you have it, I'm not sure what it was aside from maybe practicing metrics? Any and all feedback appreciated, this is a learning process so don't go easy in the critique, I need to know everything that's wrong with it even if it's all of it. Thank you