"tercet" poems
To write a sonnet doth Juana press me,
I've never found me in such stress or pain;
A sonnet numbers fourteen lines, 'tis plain,
And three are gone, ere I can say, God bless me!
I thought that spinning rhymes might sore oppress me,
Yet here I'm midway in the last quatrain;
And if the foremost tercet I can gain,
The quatrains need not any more distress me.
To the first tercet I have got at last,
And travel through it with such right good will,
That with this line I've finished it, I ween;
I'm in the second now, and see how fast
The thirteenth line runs tripping from my quill;
Hurrah, 'tis done! Count if there be fourteen!
May 10, 2017
May 10, 2017 at 2:15 PM UTC
The green barn stands alert,
in it’s structure it resounds,
singing hymns of it’s majesty.
To an outsider, it’s prominent,
plentiful with straw and freshness,
no one can see the pain it haunts.
The lonely aura of it’s scented past,
on the grounds where she departed,
strangled herself as the breath faded.
The storage where loneliness visited,
drowning every emotion she had,
pushing her to sink deeper in the abyss .
Jan 30, 2016
Jan 30, 2016 at 4:18 PM UTC
When I was young I wasn’t taught
How poems are written using thought
I have no idea what the poetic terms mean
And lines should be worked until pristine
Alliteration, Anapest, Assonance, Blank verse
Too much for the mind to traverse
Tercet, Trochee, Refrain and stanza line
Apparently free verse means lines don’t rhyme
I feel it’s all a bit clinical and cool
And poetry shouldn’t follow a written rule
It’s not something than can be planned
Like an essay written on demand
Poetry is love, lost and found
It’s anger, regret, a human battleground
It’s all of you, written down on a blank page
It’s grief, laughter, hope and rage
Poetry is a flow of all your fears
Written with ink of salted tears
And emotions tumble into cyber space
Searching for a connection, they cannot trace
Every poet travels the downward dip
Of the emotional power trip
Feels the soul of the written word
That bleeds more freely than the cut of a sword
Oct 25, 2018
Oct 25, 2018 at 5:24 PM UTC
Dreams from the ocean.
It hurts to talk.
Living is the strangest concept.
Sep 8, 2015
Sep 8, 2015 at 11:44 PM UTC
Repetition isn't necessarily redundant;
if it can repeat without redundancy,
it deserves to occur more than merely the once.
Jun 1, 2014
Jun 1, 2014 at 10:23 PM UTC
Mr. Maker make Mikel meet many merchants miffed, most million marketers merely merged, manfully managing more meritocracy.
Jul 18, 2020
Jul 18, 2020 at 7:18 PM UTC
thumbs are the sine qua non
that help get the toughest jobs done
just ask any plumber's son
Sep 3, 2016
Sep 3, 2016 at 7:40 PM UTC
Laugh all you want day
Live all you want darkness show
Still, love all around
Reaching high to rise
Achieving targets your dream
Through own story hard
One listens to jazz
One is in tune piano
But both are great friends
The weeping willow
Weeps for her seed to rise day
Unknown where it is
Let the cold wind blow
Let open my wings to fly
So, I can see world
Open eyes to soar
Let music fill your sweet ears
Dance to beat of joy
Tercet - Like That I'll Never Bee
The places I went were best to see
At each stop, I squealed with glee
Oh, how interesting the world is, like that I’ll never be!
Jul 25, 2018
Jul 25, 2018 at 10:33 AM UTC