I begin this blog with a short and rather simple poem of my own. Entitled "Rumors," it utilizes a trochaic meter and a series of ABAB quatrains; the subject matter speaks, I should think, for itself.
We are rumors, slowly drifting
Mouth to mouth, and voice to voice;
We are rumors, softly shifting
Love to hate, and choice to choice;
We have seen the tongues of princes,
Dwelt with peasants at the gates,
Tongue that wounds and tongue that minces,
Tongue that loves and tongue that hates.
We have sired revolutions,
Given birth to their repay,
Offered problems and solutions,
Sown content and sown dismay.
We are rumors, change with fashion,
Sometimes lie, are sometimes true,
And if you are known to passion,
Might you be a rumor too?