The Triolet Trail

RyanLKing · Sep 22, 2011

No more when I am one myself.
A stranger in a strange land,
Surely a lonely curse in itself,
No more when I am one myself.
Survival the ultimate test of self,
I’m just a grain among the sand,
No more when I am one myself.
A stranger in a strange land,

kborsden · Sep 23, 2011

A stranger in a stranger land,
someone without a face in place;
unable to turn open hands –
a stranger. In a stranger land,
the sky is painted by Cheyenne
tribesmen under the cloud's embrace:
a stranger in a stranger land –
someone without a face in place.

RyanLKing · Sep 23, 2011

Someone without a face in place.
There in the shadows of a store front,
Poised still in the ghostly display case,
Someone without a face in place.
Face unseen but the form I can trace,
The shadowy face I dare not hunt,
Someone without a face in place.
There in the shadows of a store front,

kborsden · Sep 24, 2011

There, in the shadows of a store front,
to the back of the door ajar.
You sold your soul out of your trunk
there, in the shadows. Of a store, front
behind the smile, it's said you hunt
in hope to see your fallen star
there -- in the shadows of a store, front
to the back of the door ajar.

RyanLKing · Sep 25, 2011

To the back of the door ajar,
A little mouse scoots inside,
Zooming faster than a race car,
To the back of the door ajar,
The cat won’t let him get far,
Unless he manages to hide,
To the back of the door ajar,
A little mouse scoots inside,

Ambrosia · Sep 25, 2011

A little mouse scoots inside
my mind; leaves droppings behind.
Its power I cannot deride.
A little mouse scoots. Inside
memories scatter, then subside.
To insanity's hell I'm consigned.
A little mouse scoots inside!
My mind leaves droppings behind.

A. Hamilton · Sep 26, 2011

My mind leaves droppings behind,
unrealized dreams and longings
scattered on the road, you'll find
my mind leaves droppings behind

Realizing much too late in time
I'd held the rope on the wrong end
My mind- leaves dropping behind
unrealized dreams and longings.

RyanLKing · Sep 26, 2011

Okay, I know I'm stretching a bit..

Unrealized dreams and longings.
Ever so close yet so very far away,
I keep feeling the prolongings
Unrealized dreams and longings.
Like a suitcase devoid of belongings,
I face this every single waking day,
Unrealized dreams and longings.
Ever so close yet so very far away,

kborsden · Sep 26, 2011

Ever so close yet so very far away
as reverie (through splintered grins)
dreams more lucid than man could crave,
ever so close, yet so very far away.

If only dreams weren't so dismayed
by sham horizons faded in
ever so close -- yet so very far away,
as reverie through splintered grins.

A. Hamilton · Sep 26, 2011

as reverie through splintered grins
a mastermind deflection
Act II of Drama De'jour begins
as reverie through splintered grins

once again the simpleton wins
a glance in his direction
with reverie through splintered grins
a mastermind deflection

kborsden · Sep 26, 2011

A mastermind deflection
in the sallow things; less shallow
than sights mounted through their flexion.
A mastermind deflection,
psychological confection --
airy, pink as plump marshmallow:
a mastermind deflection
of the sallow things less shallow.

B.D. Eyeslie · Sep 27, 2011

Of the sallow things less shallow
the depths of a putrid puddle
marks the graves in Sleepy Hollow
of the sallow things. Less shallow
was the thinker, Harold Swallow,
philosophy he would muddle
of the sallow, things less shallow,
the depths of a putrid puddle.

kborsden · Sep 27, 2011

The depths of a putrid puddle
distort in the driven rainfall.
Its semblance in logic muddles
the depths of a putrid puddle.
Beneath an umbrella, huddled,
sinking, feet first, then knees -- we crawl
the depths of a putrid puddle;
distort in the driven rainfall.

NickDR · Sep 27, 2011

Distort in the driven rainfall
our discontinued story.
I'm not sure I can watch your walls
distort in the driven rainfall.
You chose not to answer my calls,
and instead you chose to let me
distort in driven rainfall
our discontinued story.

kborsden · Sep 27, 2011

Our discontinued story,
once started among the best friends.
But egos sought in their glory
our discontinued story.

We follow each our own journey --
and so it ultimately ends
our discontinued story
(once started) among the best friends.

CDSinex · Sep 28, 2011

Removed for consideration elsewhere.

kborsden · Sep 28, 2011

I know flitter -- we say flit, flutter, flitter-flatter and many other derivatives of what is most probably a common root.

kborsden · Sep 28, 2011

Rumors flitter. From ear, to ear,
they glitter. In their sonic hues,
as hazed shimmers; shattered as fears,
rumors flitter from ear, to ear.
Lawless gossip does not adhere --
why would it? Does it know to choose
rumors; flitter, from ear to ear?
They glitter in their sonic hues.

B.D. Eyeslie · Sep 30, 2011

They glitter in their sonic hues,
those pastel boys of rock and roll.
Dancing in elevator shoes,
they glitter. In their sonic hues,
guitars define the soul and blues
and smashing moves, which fills the bowl
they glitter in. Their sonic hues—
those pastel boys of rock and roll.

Ambrosia · Sep 30, 2011

Those pastel boys of rock and roll
strut and twist on the dance floor,
click their heels to funky old soul,
those pastel boys. Of rock and roll
it's said it will swallow you whole.
The music flung wide out the door
those pastel boys of rock and roll.
Strut and twist on the dance floor.

RyanLKing · Oct 2, 2011

Sorry, it all wanted to rhyme today

Strut and twist on the dance floor,
Like you were young once more,
Yet your youth you can’t restore,
Strut and twist on the dance floor,
But you don’t have “it” anymore,
The lack of energy you can’t ignore,
Strut and twist on the dance floor,
Like you were young once more,

kborsden · Oct 2, 2011

Like you were young once more
as in the first of many days,
your heart now richer than before –
like you were young once more.

Yet even younger at the core
each day gone by, a faded haze –
like you were young once more,
as in the first of many days.

Ambrosia · Oct 2, 2011

As in the first of many days
your touch has left me hollow.
Eyes as bright as the sun's rays,
as in the first of many days.
The mourning music still plays.
Death's rhythm is hard to follow.
As in the first of many days,
your touch has left me--hollow.

kdnxdr · Oct 2, 2011

your touch has left me, hollow
mornings ring deaf, with no one in the woods to hear;
a cow in pasture calls with a long, lone bellow;
your touch has left me, hollow;
the house where hearth has died, the garden fallow,
the windows cold with no flowers' cheer,
your touch has left me, hollow;
mornings ring deaf with no one in the woods to hear

kborsden · Oct 2, 2011

I just thought I'd insert this here. Anyone feeling suitably inspired by this thread or thinking of exploring the possibilities for publishing repeating forms such as triolet, pantoum, villanelle, rondeau, sestina etc should pop over to Tilt-a-Whirl magazine. As can be expected - polish your offering, then polish again -- and make sure to read the guidelines thoroughly before you submit. They even have a cheat sheet to help you tighten up your piece prior to submission.

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