Lo! In the stream-bed sun-scales glinting. Grimy, the greed-seeds set eyes aglow. Iron-eyed, starving gold-gorged engines From the valley view a virgin peak. Pink sky arcs over a pale-grassed meadow Hollow cloth-houses hug the fires, Billys of tea-dregs. Men talk of patience Mine the grey eyes of an old mountain. Bright-cheeked but earth-blind new chums eager Fell for the hill-side — suckers! Hooked in, Dug through a dead-end. Treasure lay deeper. Shout 'cross the bar for a digger's dream! Rings 'round the moon by near midwinter. Water, glass-solid stops the wheels. From freezing gold-holes boot-betrayed feet Leave to her snow-clothes cold Kiandra.
The most significant writing I’ve done this week was participating in a poetry slam: we had four rounds, writing a poem on a phrase given by the audience each round.
Mostly, I just used my usual iambic pentameter, but I did try an alliterative poem in one of the rounds. It didn’t really work that well.