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Paige White Jun 2
Launch a caustic haiku turned flailed terzanelle
Three lines of blather from a piqued poet’s feather
Skillful syllables omit nature; gone straight to hell

Obsession sketching rhythms rhyme then measure
An ink blot parking lot commencing to swell
Three lines of blather from a piqued poet’s feather

Jot, “Not the verse that got away!” I yell
Prosodic and onomatopoeic
An ink blot parking lot commencing to swell

Fingertips that linger quips mythopoeic
Bring monochroic wars of subtle allure
Prosodic and onomatopoeic

My iambic pentameter’s amateur
I’m done with these words, ink, terms altogether
Bring monochroic wars of subtle allure

To ponded frog on a bough’s frond, any weather
Launch a caustic haiku turned flailed terzanelle
I’m done with these words, ink, terms altogether
Skillful syllables omit nature; gone straight to hell.

A. Paige White 6/1/20
My first Terzanelle.  Input is appreciated  (don’t know why my other one didn’t show up. Oh well. Still learning my way around)
Ron Conway Jan 18
An overgrowth will suffocate existence
Emergence only comes with brutal slashes
An overgrowth will suffocate existence

In order that we rise above the ashes
A spark must then be set to light the fire
Emergence only comes with brutal slashes

A river choked with weeds becomes a mire
When blood is still, the spirit's soon departed
A spark must then be set to light the fire

Facilitate the broken, bleeding-hearted
The greatest gift in desperate circumstances
When blood is still, the spirit's soon departed

Like croupiers we hedge against the chances
And foul whatever hope could be aspired
The greatest gift in desperate circumstances

The lesson taken yesterday's expired
An overgrowth will suffocate existence
And foul whatever hope could be aspired
An overgrowth will suffocate existence
                                              rc
Terzanelle
Chelsea Inkwell Jun 2017
In nighttime living creatures fell dead asleep by herds |
I alone am an orphan to the darkness and the candlelight |
And my dreams depart for whimsical lands with the migratory birds |

Under the roofs people sleep with their eyes shut tight |
All the dramas of daily life locked down their windows |
I alone am an orphan to the darkness and the candlelight |

Here my imagination took its feathery flight |
Between these shadows of empty cul-de-sac |
All the dramas of daily life locked down their windows |

The moon steals out the stories in inspiration’s sack |
Here with my dreams, desires, and depressions out of sight |
Between these shadows of empty cul-de-sac |

Improvisation opened his iridescent lips for a bite |
My melatonin ignites the fire within the constellations |
Here with my dreams, desires, and depressions out of sight |

Legends, myths, and superstitions find me with consternations |
In nighttime living creatures fell dead asleep by herds |
My melatonin ignites the fire within the constellations |
And my dreams depart for whimsical lands with the migratory birds|
We tend to land wherever we are hurled.
I lost the will to count on the unseen
when I became a man and met the world.

To tell the truth, it left me caught between
maturity and blind and childlike faith
I lost the will to count on the unseen.

Beliefs and conscience haunted like a wraith.
I struggled with identity and trust,
maturity, and blind and childlike faith.

Alas, in time, we all learn what we must,
and give ourselves no small amount of grief.
I struggled with identity and trust.

Was it for self or kin I claimed belief?
We tend to ask ourselves what we can't know,
and give ourselves no small amount of grief.

Maturity, it seems, just comes on slow-
we tend to ask ourselves what we can't know.
We tend to land wherever we are hurled.
When I became a man and met the world.
Terzanelle, a repost of my first attempt in the style.
Stefan Michener Aug 2016
An alarm arrives like a storm through
leaves and petals -- not a cry nor a
wail -- a Tarzan yell, soulfully blue.

This exhalation, an incision parts the flora,

signals strength and the brave crash through
leaves and petals -- not a cry nor a

shout -- a command to a holy war, deja vu!
Don't reason, don't doubt; our unity
signals strength and the brave crash through

walls of oppression, injustice, and iniquity.
Leave judgment for history, glory for the survivors!
Don't reason, don't doubt; our unity

shall overcome the rants of disloyal liars,
who succumb to cowardice disguised as reasons!
Leave judgment for history, glory for the survivors!

Bury the past, honor the call! Onward Legions,
to exterminate the foreigners of another faith!
The final solution, a resolution: Heed the heathen's
wail -- a Tarzan yell, soulfully blue!
Grizzo Apr 2015
Hear my words, let them steep into your soul,
Unlock the door, serve them your finest wine
Life is full of strange beauty, this I know

The demon will come, but you will be fine
The angel will come, just never on time
Unlock the door, serve them your finest wine

Life is the time, and living is the crime,
and the beauty in living is simple.
The angel will come, just never on time,

her wicked wings will scare off the sickle,
Simply living is beautiful itself,
and the beauty in living is simple,

easy to do with good wine on the shelf,
I’m at a loss for a better adage,
Simply living is beautiful itself,

This is for those of you who wish to live,
Hear my words, let them steep into your soul
I’m at a loss for a better adage,
Life is full of strange beauty, this I know.
NaPoWriMo #16 - Writte a Terzanelle
Dhaye Margaux Jan 2015
They say it's foolish to love you, my dear
I don't have the right to fall into you
I am sure this time, in my heart it is clear

And all I know is to love, I really do
We have differences, there's a gap between us
I don't have the right to fall into you

I know they would say, it wouldn't last
And all they see is trouble in this connection
We have differences, there's a gap between us

I know what they see is our imperfection
Though they criticize how I feel for you
And all they see is trouble in this connection

Please don't hear what they say, please don't go
No matter what happens, I am still the one
Though they criticize how I feel for you

I just want to love you the best that I can
They say it's foolish to love you, my dear
No matter what happens, I am still the one
I am sure this time, in my heart it is clear.
Terzanelle

The Terzanelle is a poetry type which is a combination of the villanelle and the terza rima forms. It is a 19-line poem consisting of five interlocking triplets/tercets plus a concluding quatrain in which the first and third lines of the first triplet appear as refrains. The middle line of each triplet is repeated, reappearing as the last line of the succeeding triplet with the exception of the center line of the next-to-the-last stanza which appears in the quatrain. The rhyme and refrain scheme for the triplets is as follows:
1. A
2. B
3. A

4. b
5. C
6. B

7. c
8. D
9. C

10. d
11. E
12. D

13. e
14. F
15. E

Ending Type 1:

16. f
17. A
18. F
19. A

Ending Type 2:

16. f
17. F
18. A
19. A

Each line of the poem should be the same metrical length.

Credits to:
http://www.shadowpoetry.com/

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