The ice cold steel chains Across the white blanket strains To clear level paths The monster with angry growl And its language pretty foul Rusty dual stacks Puffing clouds of grays and blacks Refusing to yield The red monster makes its way Pushing ahead not to stray Flakes of white scatter Recklessly from where they were Soon to be corralled The plow making dunes of white Mittens wave with much delight Towing my wood sled It sheds rust moving ahead John Street is our goal It’s a mountain of a hill Sure to give me quite a thrill My feet used to steer Showing not a bit of fear Over the hill’s crest There will be no stopping now Speeding down I scream a wow The ride is over Wishing it was much longer Looking up to see The distance I have traveled A smile for I am baffled Life is like my ride As did my sled time did slide The sun is setting It’s time to be heading home Of this ride shall not bemoan
Born in this lifeless land of ice and snow
Equally barren as a sand desert
Here neither grass nor trees will ever grow
A massive castle for an introvert
Plenty of yapping dogs and growling bears
To keep your ears constantly occupied
There’s ample time for game of solitaires
Life here cannot be further simplified
Strange it is, my living in solitude
After abandoning it many years
For learning and a career I pursued
Were rolled into a huge ball filled with fears
There life requires faith in many others
No one can claim to be independent
Succumbing to others faulting errors
In the end leading to my determent
Life out here is controlled by the fittest
There is no one to claim they have your back
Being vigilant is always a must
A requirement that all big cities lack
To persuade others to change I am not
Life in this wilderness isn’t by fiat
Oh my mother dear
Please keep me so near
Ever, ever close
So that I may hear
A comforting sound
The gentle beating
Of your loving heart
Let me feel the warmth
Of your loving touch
It is only you
I shall love so much
Many years from now
I know we will part
But you’ll ever be
So close in my heart
The air is crisp as a fresh picked apple,
Makes not a sound moving between the trees.
Showing little, the moon appears bashful,
Or just acting playful, being a tease.
A sprinkle of stars are but a cupful.
Playing hide and seek with the draperies,
So numerous floating by, quite agile.
Looking up at the sky puts me at ease.
Huffing and puffing sending smoke signals,
Warning all there is a chill in the air.
My ears feel the cold air taking nibbles.
Surely, the proper clothing I don’t wear.
Yielding with hand out to catch the crystals.
Such foolishness for I did not prepare.
Like a child released several giggles.
I better move quickly using great care.
Within minutes white stuff covers my hair.
Each flake falls like feathers scattered about,
Not so thick my vision it would impair.
Feeling a special joy in being out.
Catching the white flakes with my stuck out tongue,
Wondering what will happen with winter,
Weather having so nonchalantly sprung?
Time to move to where it will be warmer.
The flag struggles as if to fly away While the trees shake back and forth at their roots Somersaulting leaves look if they’re at play Huddling cows yet to put on winter suits Coal dust colored clouds grumble on their way As small furry creatures go down their chutes What a horrific sight is on display Anything in its way it persecutes
The great north winds I have lived through before
From its meanness there will be no relief
It’s banging and banging at my front door
To get inside to deliver its grief
The sound it makes signifies we’re at war
Showing anger its visit won’t be brief
Again we’re visited by Minotaur
He unleashes anger throughout the night
First beating rain then turning into snow
With each passing hour more fear does ignite
As wind pushes snow into mountains they grow
The sun forces itself through the clouds with light
Those who burst out to freedom don’t wallow
But attempt to control continued fright
For the winds did cease just moments ago
How much damage did he leave in his wake
Depends on his anger in his visit
For he takes whatever he wants to take
Their lives some unwillingly shall forfeit
From his visit there’s sure to be heartbreak
What he leaves behind there is no merit
His horror is what’s kept as a keepsake
There is someone who will never forget
The weak morning shadows mourn summer’s song, While bedded flowers are gasping for breath. Trees of many sorts start getting undressed. With a cool breeze, their leaves glide to the ground Making them unfinished crossword puzzles Dwellers of their branches have taken flight The canvas of brilliant emerald green Now takes on the look of an aged billboard The awe-inspiring purple meadow rue Once the proud snacking place for countless bees Stands, its seeds un-ceremonial fall But shall surrender to prevailing winds The soft subtle fragrance of new mown grass That had calming affects is no longer All that remains waits for the killing frost. Which will sadly come on the day after The beautiful Persephone departs
A triolet is almost always a stanza poem of eight lines, though stanzas with as few as seven lines and as many as nine or more have appeared in its history. Its rhyme scheme is ABaAabAB (capital letters represent lines repeated verbatim) and in 19th century English triolets often all lines are in iambic tetrameter, though in traditional French triolets from the 17th century on the second, sixth and eighth lines tend to be iambic trimeters followed by one amphibrachic foot each. In French terminology, a line ending in an iambic foot was denoted as masculine, while a line ending in an amphibrachic foot was called feminine. Depending on the language and era, other meters are seen, even in French. The first, fourth and seventh lines are identical, as are the second and final lines, thereby making the initial and final couplets identical as well. In a traditional French triolet, the second and third non-repeating lines rhyme with the repeating first, fourth, and seventh lines, while the non-repeating sixth line rhymes with the second and eighth repeating lines. However, especially in German triolets of the 18th and 19th centuries, one will see this pattern often violated.
For me writing the three triolets below was like working out a rubix cube. Moving words around so they fit. However, I did find a high level of enjoyment in writing them. Always up for a challenge. It would be appreciated if comments were offered.
Sunset Oh my love, touch me where you may Make this night one not to forget Say words that I need you to say Oh my love, touch me where you may. With you forever I will stay To lie with you at each sunset Oh my love, touch me where you may Make this night one not to forget
Wink of an Eye In just a mere wink of an eye Your world can permanently change A single hello or goodbye In just a mere wink of an eye Its impact you cannot deny Impossible to rearrange In just a mere wink of an eye Your world can permanently change
That Special Kiss Will remember that special kiss I parted your lips with my tongue The key to a heavenly bliss Will remember that special kiss A feeling never to dismiss In my heart a love song was sung Will remember that special kiss I parted your lips with my tongue
Nervously excited about my new book. 150 poems. Mostly love poems, but a dash of other genres are included. The reason why I chose its title is I put my heart into it. As did the other authors who chose the same name. With tongue in cheek I am asking you to purchase my book for it will be helping my ego. I am not yet an affiliate, therefore there isn’t a reward until you purchase the book