fragrant triggers sing their healing curve and nuance, hint of meaning lilies recall textured mem’ries treasures sprout from fearless gleaning curves and nuance, hints of meaning lost and found, their voices keening listened to release energies curves and nuance, hints of meaning lilies recall textured mem’ries Triolet form Colleen Chesebro is the host of Tanka…
Category: triolet
Tanka Tuesday — Winter Blankets
“Ukrainian Figurines” by Kirill Shevchenko (Groder) Image by Кирилл Шевченко from Pixabay As winter blankets cover us,we huddled ones without a home,your thoughts and prayers are not enough.As winter’s blanket covers usour bodies wane, our souls are scuffed.How long will we be forced to roamas winter blankets cover us,we huddled ones without a home? Triolet form…
dVerse — Poetics — choice with update on 9/8/22 on Pinocchio origins
Is health dread chore as stone to bear, where taste sums not but sweat adds up? Foul apps clang fail; reminder’s swear. Is health dread chore as stone to bear as friends die young, diseased, with flair? One’s life line grows. Gray’s bitter cup. Is health dread chore as stone to bear, where taste sums…
The Sunday Muse 156 — Upon a Walk
Upon a walk, his heart did spy Fair blushing bud; his love did swell. She smiled, a twinkle in her eye. Upon this hope, his heart did fly. For years, her love to gain he’d try Her frown declined and darkness fell Upon a walk, he took her life In shining blood; her love does…
The Sunday Muse 152 — Moonlight Promise
Turns his head in moonlight shadowAstral gaze, a promise champingPulled, I’m helpless, orbits’ lasso,Smiles and nods in moonlight shadow.Walking to our cozy alcove,Sugarplums of spanking dancing;Fever pyres in moonlight shadow,Astral gazes, promise champing. There are so many stories in this man’s face. Today’s offering is in triolet form.Shay is today’s host of The Sunday…
dVerse — OLN 280 — Ask not…
Ask no questions of the moth in the candle flame–Attar A lowly larvae at the start,she crawls and eats from forest floor.Machinic munching, Darwin’s art,yet lonely larvae’s yearning starts. An ache that niggles in her heart,she weaves a pod — she senses more.Transformed, no longer bound to earthConsuming need, to heaven soars. She pirouettes in…
dVerse — Poetics 432 — Curdled Rose
My heart was split, and a flower appeared… –King Solomon A mother’s love may be assumed unless she’s dickered with a beast.Foul vapid roach, her soul consigned,a mother’s hate may be assumed.A mother’s bile designs your tomb.Your curdled rose rise, barren, bleak.As mother’s clause ensures your doom,your tender heart split for her feast. I…
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