Those nights when sleep is fleeting and my dreams
Are fainter than a nightlight in the darkness
Come creeping more and more so now, it seems.
I'm weeping not because the sky is starless,
And not because the moon has hid its face,
But rather since they never seemed to be
At all. No constellations there to trace,
No northern star to guide, that I may see
This all-consuming grief as sweet relief.
There it really that rhythm to this poem, its beautiful
I tend to struggle with the sonnet petit form. This is nearly flawless. I also feel the emotion very strongly.
I've been feeling that it's time to expand my metrical and line writing milieu. When I first started I wrote exclusively in iambic tetrameter, until I switched to iambic pentameter for sonnets. Now I'm experiencing more with enjambment, alliterative verse, and accentual verse. I think my current poetry may be going through a bit of a transitional phase.