Haggard (a decima espinela poem)

My body bates at all that moves

as though I might bind to a peace

I’m sore and tired. I need release.

I hope with sleep my mood improves.

For now this ache all sense removes.

My thoughts seem just a pantomime.

I cannot force these words to rhyme.

The ink won’t flow or find the page;

My words lie trapped, in iron cage.

I feel my wing-beats out of time.

—–

POETIC FORM:

Decima Espinela — 10 line poem, 8 syllables per line, abbaaccddc rhyme pattern.