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Thread: The Triolet Trail

  1. #1101
    is this how it ends? SuperModerator poetinahat's Avatar
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    in the end, even the mighty fail
    to scrape away the ivy and brick-dust
    and there divine the runes of their life's tale.
    in the end, even the mighty fail.

    the quest is noble, but to no avail,
    and every gleaming sword succumbs to rust:
    in the end, even the mighty fail
    to scrape away the ivy and brick-dust.
    Last edited by poetinahat; 09-18-2017 at 08:58 AM.

  2. #1102
    Pound cake. Perscribo's Avatar
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    To scrape away the ivy and brick, dust
    the first with compliments. She’ll always soar
    and leave the brick banging his boat, with rust
    to scrape. Away the ivy and brick! Dust
    the demons that kick at her heels and trust
    that she’s the one to scoop up. Mud and doors
    to scrape away. The ivy and brick dust
    the first. With compliments she’ll always soar.
    Poetry classics. Masterfully kindled. Always 99¢.

  3. #1103
    Huh. kkbe's Avatar
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    The first with compliments, she'll always soar;
    her words and deeds protect her. As shall I
    (no-one on this sweet earth could love her more).
    The first with compliments, she'll always soar
    above injustice, bigotry and war;
    above us all, until the day we die--
    the first, with compliments. She'll always soar;
    her words and deeds protect her, as shall I.
    Last edited by kkbe; 09-22-2017 at 01:52 AM.
    From SOULLESS:
    Sammy patted the ground so Eric sat down next to him.
    “Glad you made it,” Sammy said. “We were just talking about you. Were your ears burning?”
    “Not really,” Eric said.
    “You remember Henry. . .”
    “Hey, Stick Boy,” Henry said, so Eric said hey.
    “And that’s his brother Frank. Say hi to Eric, Frank.”
    Frank said hi. Eric said hi back.
    Sammy pointed to the skinny kid with the black eye. “That’s Punk over there,” he said, “and that—he pointed to the kid sitting next to Punk—is Asshole. I mean Billy.”

    /kk's blog is on hiatus/

  4. #1104
    Pound cake. Perscribo's Avatar
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    Her words and deeds protect her, as shall I.
    The Sword of Athena cuts to the art
    of war; what it means to pray on the fly.
    Her words and deeds protect her, as shall I.
    A lasso that binds the truth to your eyes
    will burn. Ares wants to rip it apart.
    Her words and deeds protect her, as shall I.
    The Sword of Athena cuts to the art.
    Poetry classics. Masterfully kindled. Always 99¢.

  5. #1105
    Huh. kkbe's Avatar
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    The sword of Athena cuts to the art
    of bloody combat. Blade aloft: a light
    above bodies bleeding in the cart.
    The sword of Athena cuts to the art.
    Fate, or reason? Each has played a part
    and each bears witness: death ignites
    the sword of Athena; cuts to the art

    of bloody combat: blade aloft, alight.

    Last edited by kkbe; 10-12-2017 at 12:23 AM.
    From SOULLESS:
    Sammy patted the ground so Eric sat down next to him.
    “Glad you made it,” Sammy said. “We were just talking about you. Were your ears burning?”
    “Not really,” Eric said.
    “You remember Henry. . .”
    “Hey, Stick Boy,” Henry said, so Eric said hey.
    “And that’s his brother Frank. Say hi to Eric, Frank.”
    Frank said hi. Eric said hi back.
    Sammy pointed to the skinny kid with the black eye. “That’s Punk over there,” he said, “and that—he pointed to the kid sitting next to Punk—is Asshole. I mean Billy.”

    /kk's blog is on hiatus/

  6. #1106
    Huh. kkbe's Avatar
    Join Date
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    Of bloody combat--blade aloft, alight--
    this is the thing I dream of: this thing,
    this base desire. In my dream: a night
    of bloody combat, blade aloft; a light
    to guide me shining beacon bright
    to light my darkness and I sing
    of bloody combat, blade aloft, alight;
    this is the thing I dream of, this thing. . .
    Last edited by kkbe; 10-15-2017 at 10:08 PM.
    From SOULLESS:
    Sammy patted the ground so Eric sat down next to him.
    “Glad you made it,” Sammy said. “We were just talking about you. Were your ears burning?”
    “Not really,” Eric said.
    “You remember Henry. . .”
    “Hey, Stick Boy,” Henry said, so Eric said hey.
    “And that’s his brother Frank. Say hi to Eric, Frank.”
    Frank said hi. Eric said hi back.
    Sammy pointed to the skinny kid with the black eye. “That’s Punk over there,” he said, “and that—he pointed to the kid sitting next to Punk—is Asshole. I mean Billy.”

    /kk's blog is on hiatus/

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