The River’s Source

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.

Reflection (ROW80 Week 8)

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.
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