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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Caveat: Poem #2852 “Crossing the Pacific”

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Bands of purple line the sky up here 
beside our flight; below, Japan.
We'll leave the sun behind us,
and now insert ourselves, 
stealthy, like angels,
into the east
and darkness
and then
dawn.

Well, somewhere just south of Kamchatka,
I opted to boldly declare
a new, liminal approach:
an opposition to
exaggerations
of sentience,
and instead,
exist.
So.

Later, over the Aleutian chain,
there arose feelings of regret.
Baroque significations
unfurled their abstractions.
Inaccessible,
meanings were lost;
nothing left,
I sought 
sleep.

– a poem made of 3 nonnets enchained.

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