ㅁ Snow had arrived, and was thick on the ground. Trees were stripped bare. The town's streets had no sound. Kiamon trudged from the dingy motel, Facing her fate, her thick coat like a shell.
– a quatrain in dactylic tetrameter.
ㅁ Snow had arrived, and was thick on the ground. Trees were stripped bare. The town's streets had no sound. Kiamon trudged from the dingy motel, Facing her fate, her thick coat like a shell.
– a quatrain in dactylic tetrameter.
ㅁ Kiamon noted the rats by the grate. Sunset had passed, and the time had grown late. Streetcars were scarce. A dull mist filled the air. Facing her future, she muttered a prayer.
– a quatrain in dactylic tetrameter. This is yet another random snippet from the life of Kiamon, a fictional being in an imaginary world.
ㅁ These daily trees appear each day, and still you'd think I'd tire of such monotony; but each of them's unique, and proves to us the world's a space much bigger than our minds.
– a quatrain in blank verse (iambic pentameter).
ㅁ Kiamon left her old daydreams behind, knowing at this point she'd best clear her mind. Sneaking suspicions took root in her brain: people were plotting a hidden campaign.
– a quatrain in dactylic tetrameter.
ㅁ The raven stood beside the road, perched there along some stones. Some hunter'd left a pointless pile of disregarded bones.
– a quatrain in ballad meter.
ㅁ I drive to town a lot these days, sometimes it is a bore. I've started naming potholes, now, 'cause them, you can't ignore.
– a quatrain in ballad meter.
ㅁ I dreamed I wrote some nifty code to solve my business needs. The dream-world seems to have forgot that's not where retail leads.
– a quatrain in ballad meter.
ㅁ So, death and dreams each take their toll they interrupt our thoughts; the one can stop things for all time, the other's just three dots...
– a quatrain in ballad meter.
ㅁ Kiamon challenged the facts that she found; someone'd created them, spread them around. Lacking in proofs, she just studied the clues, finding strange holes in the logic of news.
– a quatrain in dactylic tetrameter. The continuing ruminations of a fictional character, Kiamon.
ㅁ Kiamon woke from her dreams with a start. Somehow she'd lost herself inside some art: paintings her grandmother'd done long ago, cabins in forests and wide fields of snow.
– a quatrain in dactylic tetrameter.
ㅁ So Richard told me 'bout when Joe... he had a "riggin' fit": it happens when a thing don't work, so you get mad at it
– a quatrain in ballad meter.
ㅁ The dog had seen the baby bear, she wanted to give chase. The leash prevented fast pursuit: frustration on her face.
– a quatrain in ballad meter.
ㅁ So, did we watch that show or not? The answer's in dispute. But how can we move on from this, the truth is absolute!
– a quatrain in ballad meter.
ㅁ I dreamed I wrote a good haiku but when I woke it fled. I tried to resurrect its text while lying there in bed.
– a quatrain in ballad meter.
ㅁ The car fell off the bumpy road and rolled into a ditch; my uncle saw the whole thing pass, forgot it - small brain glitch.
– a quatrain in ballad meter. To be clear, this wasn’t my car, crashing. Arthur apparently was witness to an accident he saw while walking along our dirt road the other day, but he doesn’t remember it.
ㅁ Machines were made of words and stuff, they seemed to learn to think; and over time they seemed to rule, and human fate would sink.
– a quatrain in ballad meter.
ㅁ The dog had stopped to smell the ditch, she pushed her nose in deep. A bone was found of some dead beast: "Oh this, I think, I'll keep!"
– a quatrain in ballad meter.
ㅁ I walked the dog along the road, she peed upon the grass; and then she turned and ate those plants: "It tastes just like my ass!"
– a quatrain in ballad meter.
ㅁ Kiamon dreamed that the mountains had crashed stones tumbling down so the road was all smashed; workers had come to repair what they could. Dawn showed its hand: gravel fill, shattered wood.
– a quatrain in dactylic tetrameter.
ㅁ I dreamed I found a typo in a poem, but when I went to fix it I could not. The typo squirmed away like some small beast, escaping from my cursor, while I cursed.
– a quatrain in blank verse (iambic pentameter).
ㅁ The days pile up and make a blur; procrastination rules. The nights provide their pointless dreams; intentions are for fools.
– a quatrain in ballad meter.
ㅁ The spider traveled up the wall, its focus on some goal. The surface made its progress slow: it stumbled at some hole.
– a quatrain in balled meter.
ㅁ With unrequited consciousness, we slowly make our way. The rocks and trees don't answer us, and night succumbs to day.
– a quatrain in ballad meter.
ㅁ The dog escaped and ran away - she'd smelled something quite dead. I found her later at the pond, The dead thing near her head.
– a quatrain in ballad meter.
ㅁ Kiamon struggled to understand things. Clues were provided: short, causal strings. Still, the essentials eluded her grip. Outside, the rain pushed a slow, steady drip.
– a quatrain in dactylic tetrameter.
ㅁ Kiamon knew that she'd face things alone, setting her jaw, with her face made of stone. Fragments of snow still polluted the town, winter still ruled and the trees were still brown.
– a quatrain in dactylic tetrameter.
ㅁ The clouds, they drifted off to sea: a tactical retreat. The moon, she shone; the snow was white; the air cold, like concrete.
– a quatrain in ballad meter.
ㅁ The eagle cast her eagle eye across the sleeping sea and rested on the dock's cool arch - she'd finished with her tree.
– a quatrain in ballad meter.
ㅁ The sun attempted reaching down to touch a tree nearby. It stretched its arms to feel its strength... the ground ignored its try.
– a quatrain in ballad meter.
ㅁ the robots came and set up shop, they told their stories too. the people asked them questions then... got answers, sometimes true
– a quatrain in ballad meter.
ㅁ I bought some trees by internet. They got here just last week. I put them in some little pots. I watch the pots: they leak.
– a quatrain in ballad meter.
ㅁ Kiamon walked down the path in the wood, looking for signs of the past, if she could, hoping to find some small, relevant clue. No simple answers appeared. What to do?
– a quatrain in dactylic tetrameter. The continuing saga of Kiamon, a fictional being.
ㅁ The night consumed the day's concerns, and dreams piled up like stones, that tumbled down on ocean shores, collecting there like bones.
– a quatrain in ballad meter.