Tag: triolet

Oystercatchers

For dverse. I was writing a poem about oystercatchers, so this prompt seemed apposite.

Oyster

Deep water, dark and silent flows,
where waving weed and fishes dart,
and hidden rainbowed pearl shell glows.
Deep water, dark and silent flows,
though storm and icy north wind blows,
and moon pearl light warms ocean’s heart,
deep water. Dark and silent flows
the waving weed, where fishes dart.

Catcher

So many hunters haunt the deeps
in lake weed hid, the perch and pike,
in deep shade where the willow weeps.
So many hunters haunt the deeps;
where night is king and daylight sleeps,
pike darts, a deadly lighning strike.
Though many hunters haunt the deeps,
in lake weed hide, the perch and pike.

Oystercatcher

Birds wade their world, a liminal space,
magpie-dappled and never still,
on mirror sands walk with pied grace.
Birds wade their world, a liminal space,
cast magpie eye on death. They race
to turn the tide, sift pearls until
birds wade their world, this liminal space,
magpie-dappled and never still.

Gardens

I took the first words the Oracle gave me. They were enough for today. I realise now that the poem could almost be a triolet, so I’ve worked it into one.

Gardens

Sun would fill this garden with dreams,
all the cloud colours of sunset.
This garden would dream in the sun,
meteors of green, volcanoed flower-bursts,
remembering how rain fell in dreams
with the tinkling music of broken stars,
filling night gardens with dreams
and the light of a million suns.

Gardens in triolet

The sun would fill this garden with dreams,
The colour of clouds at the end of the day,
Tasting of rain and the rush of spring streams.
The sun would fill this garden with dreams,
Deep ocean dark where sea treasure gleams,
With the glitter of stars that the tide washed away
Into sunlight that’s flooding this garden with dreams,
All the colour of clouds at the end of the day.

Three ways to say, it’s raining

haiku

watching the rain
spirits ditchwater dull
fountains of birdsong

tanka

watching the rain
sky loaded laden lowering
the dull splash of meadow mud
spirits sink in the un-sun
while birdsong soars heavenwards

triolet

Spring is rushing away from me,
Bright days are dulled with running rain,
Their flowers lost in heavy sea,
Grey waves. As far as eye can see,
Spring is rushing away from me.
Thrush knows and sings this gentle pain,
Spring is rushing away from me,
Bright days are dulled with running rain.

Walking into the storm

The NaPoWriMo prompt today is to write a sijo. I’ve never written one before, so I adapted a triolet I wrote yesterday, which in turn provoked a haibun to explain why I wrote the triolet. Here are all three.

Walking into the storm (haibun)

Yesterday I wrote a triolet. It had been storming all afternoon, thunder, lightning, high wind, heavy cloud and intermittent downpours of rain and hail. Redmond pestered and pestered to go out for a walk, so in the end I put on rubber boots, raincoat and took the pair of them out, across the meadow, to walk along the stream under the trees. Needless to say, Redmond soon decided this wasn’t exactly what he meant, and Bix got into a state of high anxiety. Both of them bolted for home the last stretch of the way, and waited by the stove to be towelled dry. The triolet came after.

so much green air
squeezed from heavy cloud
rivulets leaping

Walking into the storm (triolet)

We walked into a storm today,
the sky was dark, the wind was high;
I called to you, you wouldn’t stay.
We walked into a storm today,
You hunched your shoulders, turned away;
You might at least have said goodbye.
We walked into a storm. Today,
the sky turned dark, the wind too high.

Walking into the storm (sijo)

We walked into a storm today,
the sky was dark, the wind was high.

I called to you, you wouldn’t stay,
just hunched your shoulders, walked away.

I never thought the storm that broke
would be the one that meant goodbye.