I apologize for the lack of content. I’ve taken a break from writing poetry to reexamine why I haven’t been enjoying it as much. Writing just hasn’t been what it used to be for me when I was eight years old. It’s part rejection and part feeling artistically inadequate, maybe.
Anyway. Blank verse.
The blank verse is a form of poetry written unrhymed (hence “blank”), but in iambic pentameter. Again, an iamb is a metrical foot that consists of one stressed and one unstressed syllable; iambic pentameter, therefore, refers to five of these metrical feet, which means ten syllables per line.
You can divide a blank verse poem in whatever way you like. It doesn’t have to be an equal number of lines per stanza.
The sun recedes and rises, day and out,
Yet through sunless mornings, moonless evenings,
There I remain with the stillness of a stone:
One long lost in a labyrinthine forest,
Listening: waves lapping on the shoreline—
Ne’er to see, ne’er to touch; forever dreams.
The grass grows long—and withers—beneath me;
Trees grow taller, still; the sky cries and shouts;
The ground grows coarse, and the ground sinks beneath.
Yet I remain the same as years long past.
Birds leave their nests and fly far off the land;
The sky glimmers with a mocking grin,
As I lie awake to bask in its mirth.
Woe is the stone to remain as he is:
Ne’er to soar, ne’er to leap; forever stone—
Forever lost in stillness and warm light.
The sun shines and the moon glows above him;
Waves lap and crash; the grass grows sharp and dull—
The stone remains as he is in his gloom.
The sun recedes and rises, day and out.
The stone does not notice the glimmering
That comes from within him, as the sun passes.