ㅁ Firstly, we gazed askance at the spaceship Plunging wild through the grim-faced sky. Flares were winking on a trailing wingtip Where a faded emblem seemed to fly. Secondly, speakers sung with the voices Screaming out dangers and proffering choices, Hinting at various important things. Dark was the mood then, beshadowed by wings. Thirdly, our leaders emptied the city. Multitudes fled to the sun-tortured hills, Some of them starving while others sold pills Which the wounded endured. Such a pity. Endless miseries kept ensuing - Doubts, above all. What were we doing?
– a sonnet in an irregular tetrameter (maybe).
