The Triolet Trail

Perscribo

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There seemed to be a rule I missed wherein the repeated lines are reinterpreted with altered grammar (and sometimes with a word appended/omitted). As I went back through older entries, this seemed to be observed almost invariably. As such, I wasn't sure my entry was valid because I was no longer sure if I'd followed all the rules. Re-reading the OP did not clarify this for me, I'm afraid. But it was already midnight, so I decided to simply strike it out for simplicity's sake and get myself off to bed.
That is not a rule but just a (totally optional and by no means superior) style, as is enjambment, or any slight variation to a line to accommodate your meter .. or lack thereof! The only hard rules are (1) keeping a (recognizable) repetition of the “Tri” in lines 1/4/7, (2) similar couplets in lines 1/2 and 7/8, and (3) the abaaabab rhyme scheme. So, as far as I’m concerned, no rules were broken! 😉
 
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kinokonoronin

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That is not a rule but just a (totally optional and by no means superior) style, as is enjambment, or any slight variation to a line to accommodate your meter .. or lack thereof! The only hard rules are (1) keeping a (recognizable) repetition of the “Tri” in lines 1/4/7, (2) similar couplets in lines 1/2 and 7/8, and (3) the abaaabab rhyme scheme. So, as far as I’m concerned, no rules were broken! 😉
Thanks. Good to know. Will participate again.
 

Perscribo

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I fear the problems haven’t gone away.
Why can’t I just Escape, Delete, Backspace?
A window closed, purged, re-opened, still stays.
I fear the problems haven’t gone away.
Programs can’t erase memories relayed
by conduits controlled with heartfelt grace.
I fear the problems haven’t gone away.
Why can’t I just Escape, Delete, Backspace?
 

kinokonoronin

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Why can't I just Escape, Delete, Backspace?
'Tis as if the past is etched on timeless stone.
Yet even stone erodes to dust displaced.
Why can't I just Escape, Delete, Backspace?
Immutable, the clock's gray ghastly face;
it oversees mistakes and grave-land bones.
Why can't I just Escape, Delete, Backspace?
'Tis as if the past is etched on timeless stone.
 

Perscribo

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As if the past is etched on timeless stone,
we must read the whole context of the news:
What was done, witnessed, said - the truth alone.
As if the past is etched, on timeless stone
the facts would sing, white-out the pointless drone
of pundits playing prophet. Words should stew
as if the past is etched on timeless stone.
We must read the whole context of the news.
 
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B.D. Eyeslie

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We must read the whole context of the news.
To find where the lies are hidden,
when the truth is tainted by many hues,
we must read the whole. Context of the news
won't convince or quiet those different views,
for their brains are mushy and forbidding.
We must read the whole context of the news
to find where the lies are hidden.
 

Perscribo

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To find where the lies are hidden
I look no further than your eyes.
I need not comb the lines written
to find where the lies are hidden.
Long ago, it was forbidden
to read the texts, retract the tithes.
To find where the lies are hidden
I look no further than your eyes.
 

Ambrosia

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I look no further than your eyes.
The depth of deception is easy to see
since your mouth vomits only lies.
I look no further than your eyes
and catch no glimpse of compromise.
It is too late to turn and flee.
I look no further than your eyes--
the depth of deception is easy to see.
 

Perscribo

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Depth of deception is easy to see.
I like to focus on the harder catch,
the leftover detritus: honesty.
Depth of deception is easy to see
on the air, in the waves, on your TV.
Your glare won’t sway me. You’ve met your last match!
Depth of deception is easy to see.
I like to focus on the harder catch.
 
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B.D. Eyeslie

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I like to focus on the harder catch,
a turn of a phrase to tune up the mind.
Consider this to be the lofty stretch
I like to focus on. The harder catch,
is unique, not likely brewed in a batch
of some pedestrian day-to-day grind.
I like to focus on the harder. Catch
a turn of a phrase to tune up the mind.
:)
 
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Ambrosia

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A turn. Of a phrase to tune up the mind
there is little help when brain cells die.
With all due haste you must seek to find
a turn of phrase. To tune up the mind
it is necessary not to be blind.
Breathe out from your being upon a sigh
a turn of phrase to tune up the mind.
There is little help when brain cells die.
 

Ambrosia

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There is little help. When brain cells die
all one can do is offer support.
It does no good to protest or cry.
There is little help when brain cells die.
Tell your love they'll be fine. Yes, just lie.
Accept the facts. Of need to retort
there is little. Help when brain cells die.
All one can do is offer support.
 

Perscribo

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All I can do is give support.
Beyond the normal mother love,
hard to fathom it’s all so short.
All I can do is give support,
knowing we’re both the helpless sort,
and your warm hand makes the best glove.
All I can do is give support
beyond the normal mother love.
 
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B.D. Eyeslie

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Beyond the normal mother love,
she scared the dickens out of me.
If I did curse to God above
beyond the normal, mother love
would squeeze my cheeks, and soap she'd shove
between my teeth in jubilee!
Beyond the normal mother? Love–
she scared the dickens out of me.
 
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Ambrosia

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She scared the dickens out of me!
With a loud bang and a deeper shout,
she grabbed my leg when I tried to flee.
She scared the dickens out of me,
laughing like an evil witch with glee.
I might be forced to punch the lout.
She scared the dickens out of me
with a loud bang and deeper shout.
 
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kinokonoronin

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A loud bang, a deeper shout
and smoky trail all feed the fear.
Itchy fingers spasm 'bout
and louder bangs cause deeper shouts.
Pleased as peaches, clothed in clout,
an ego sneers from ear to ear,
'til one last bang and one last shout;
on bloody spouts gorges the fear.
 
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B.D. Eyeslie

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Here's a quick reminder of the Triolet form in case you missed first post by Kborsden :)


The triolet is somewhat of a rarity, maybe because some incorrectly see it as little more than a shorter (and therefore also easier) version of a pantoum or villanelle. This poem and thread sparked an idea - we've had the Haiku Chain (many of them), the Cinquain Train (2 I know of), now I'd like to suggest the first Triolet Trail.

A triolet is a poem consisting of two stanzas of four verses each (8 verses in total) - however the metric count is independent of the form, so tetrameter, pentameter, hexameter, heptameter, octameter etc all acceptable, even in alternation or each verse its own - but anything above hexameter would be rather imposing to come across and quite a challenge to write (especially, say, octameter). The tri (3) in the triolet is reference to the first verse appearing 3 times: verse 1, verse 4, verse 7. Additionally the 2nd verse is repeated also as the final verse and the rhyme scheme is strict ABAA ABAB. Sometimes stanzas are presented as a single merged stanza - as I suggest we do in this thread.

So as to function for a game - the 2nd verse which is repeated as the last verse of every triolet will function as the first verse of the following triolet - a visual diagram to elucidate:

(number is the verse in repetition, x is non repeated verse, letter is rhyme)

1A
2B
xA
1A
xA
xB
1A
2B

Every new post will use verse 2 of the previous poem as verse 1... does that make sense?

_________________________________

As a show of good will - and because I just have to, I'll go first:


For a time, watching the willow,
enveloped in its obscure gloves:
green snakes that catch the soft billows
for a time. Watching the willow
in sights caught close in cloud pillows
as precedents of lucid love --
for, a time, watching the willow
enveloped in its obscured gloves.



_________________________________
 

Ambrosia

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A loud bang, a deeper shout
and smoky trail all feed the fear.
Itchy fingers spasm 'bout
and louder bangs cause deeper shouts.
Pleased as peaches, clothed in clout,
an ego sneers from ear to ear,
'til one last bang and one last shout;
on bloody spouts gorges the fear.
The change between your second line and your last line, although containing a similar meaning, is enough of a change to throw me. I'm not sure I have the poetic chops to write a triolet poem with the line "on bloody spouts gorges the fear" running throughout it. :ROFL:

I am going to take your second line and see if I can come up with anything, since normally it would be repeated at the end. I am currently still dealing with the effects of Covid, but we will see if I have enough brain power to bring to bear to actually pull it off. ;)
 

Ambrosia

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Smoky trails all feed the fear.
Rapacious fire shouts its lust
while life flees the fire's leer.
Smoky trails all feed the fear
as dry eyes can no longer tear.
There is no reason left to trust
smoky trails. All feed the fear.
Rapacious fire shouts. It's lust!
 

Thecla

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Rapacious fire shouts its lust
So bright a flame will never die,
Though Lesbia is ages’ dust.
Rapacious fire shouts its lust,
Cries love, screams hatred, yearns to trust -
His torments now, as then, no lie.
Rapacious fire shouts its lust
So bright a flame will never die.
 

kinokonoronin

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So bright a flame will never die
until there's nothing left to burn.
So turn your back, avert your eyes.
So bright a flame will never die.
Curse and cower! Turn and fly!
We're ashes destined for an urn.
So bright a flame will never die
until there's nothing left to burn.
 

Ambrosia

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Until there's nothing left to burn,
you will flame all acts of kindness.
Spin doom and gloom at every turn
until there's nothing left. To burn
hope and tolerance will only earn
hell's glory. You'll maintain blindness
until there's nothing. Left to burn,
you will flame all acts of kindness.
 
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Ambrosia

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You will flame all acts of kindness.
With unrepentant independence,
it's unmitigated blindness.
You will flame! All acts of kindness
are not some ploy. Your mindless
fear flounders in transcendence.
You will flame all acts of kindness
with unrepentant independence.
 
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