Björn is manning the pub for poets this evening and has challenged us to try our hands and feet at anapestic tetrameter. (Think Dr. Seuss or T’was the Night Before Christmas.) The pub is open. Go by d’Verse to visit and write with a fine bunch of poets.
We have marked hopscotch squares with our feet. Here’s a stone
to be tossed, should you dare, in soft measured manner.
You’ll be lost should your muse skip and leave you alone
on the track. Don’t look back! Tripping feet slip, stammer.