Caveat: Poem #2880 “A Sunday stroll”

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The sky was gray, the mist hung low.
 I walked the road and saw the trees.
Some rocks recalled the winter's snow.

The sky was gray, the mist hung low.
 The water, distant, seemed to glow.
The bits of light, waves touched by breeze.

The sky was gray, the mist hung low.
 I walked the road and saw the trees.

– a triolet.

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Caveat: Poem #2874 “The great journey”

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I start my journey up the stairs,
 my outlook bold: I'm upward bound.
The sun's not shining - no one cares.

I start my journey up the stairs:
 the steps, they lurk, like little snares.
I stumble then, a frightening sound.

I start my journey up the stairs,
 my outlook bold: I'm upward bound.

– a triolet.

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Caveat: Poem #2867 “Being another”

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The silence deafens, coats the world,
 as if the head's been filled with earth.
The clouds above are curly, pearled.

The silence deafens, coats the world,
 as if, all round, broad wings unfurled -
all covering - a whole sky's worth.

The silence deafens, coats the world,
 as if the head's been filled with earth.

– a triolet.

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Caveat: Poem #2860 “Gazing out from my window at the sea”

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A morning's drizzle paints the sea
 with spots and roundish dapples, green.
The gray, cold sky confounds, unfree.

A morning's drizzle paints the sea,
 while trees absorb the gray - that's key -
and fish and whales swim deep, unseen,

A morning's drizzle paints the sea
 with spots and roundish dapples, green.

– a triolet. This is something new – I’ve never tried this particular genre of short poem before. It’s pretty highly constrained, which I tend to like, but also repetitive by design, which I tend not to like.

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