Echoes of Life


This is an odd little form whose name I do not know: 7-5-7-7-7-5, and all the seven syllable lines rhyme, and both of the five syllable lines rhyme. If you’d like an example, see Sorrow by Edna St. Vincent Millay. Or read the poem I just wrote.

Echoes of Life

Echoes of life linger here;
They won’t wash away.
In this house they catch my ear,
In the hall they draw out fear,
My breath catches with a tear;
I don’t want to stay.

My childhood life lingers here,
Memories of gray.
Traces of my yesteryear,
Ghosts of the past crowd so near,
I can see them all too clear
In the light of day.

© Bridget Noonan, 2011.

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