The Triolet Trail

kborsden

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Deep within us there is an inner strength
regardless of how its shape is wrought
externally -- or how inwardly bent
deep within us. There is an inner strength
that runs the entire ephemeral length
of the psyche, and twists to what is taught.
Deep within us, there is an inner strength
regardless of how. Its shape is wrought.
 

kdnxdr

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regardless of how its shape is wrought,
a life bears testimony, memorial to all;
how life is lived, wisdom's story sought,
regardless of how its shape is wrought.

each tear, and moment's laughter brought
life's lessons, memory's duty to recall;
regardless of how its shape is wrought,
a life bears testimoney, memorial to all.
 
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kborsden

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A life bears testimony: memorial to all
things buried in the songs of yesteryear
on epitaphs. As household objects recall
a life bears testimony (memorial too), all
the king's soldiers and cavalry fall,
hidden -- blended within the un-faced fears
a life bears; testimony, memorial to all
things buried in the songs of yesteryear.
 

CDSinex

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Things buried in the songs of yesteryear
seem to echo loudest in the silent
times. Those moments alone that bring you near
things buried. In the songs of yesteryear
all the dust and decades soon disappear
down roads not taken in a youth well spent.
Things buried in the songs of yesteryear—
seem to echo loudest in the silent.
 
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B.D. Eyeslie

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Seem to echo loudest in the silent
past, unspoken words; your eyes reached for me—
my bursting heart. The feelings so ardent
seem to echo loudest in the silent
remembrance. Sounds of medical lament
screeching toward the ICU's last gurney
seem to echo. Loudest in the silence,
past unspoken words, your eyes reached for me.
 
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CDSinex

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Last edited by B.D. Eyeslie; Today at 05:30 AM. Reason: Fixing problem, sorry if I screwed anyone up. BTW I just made "silent" a noun.
Sorry about "silent." I know my last line isn't grammatically correct :D. I had wanted to change it to 'silence' but I not sure it's kosher.
 

kborsden

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Past unspoken words; your eyes reached for me
to caress them with my gaze; undress you
against the freeze of the moment, unseen
passed unspoken words. Your eyes reached for me
and all that we had shared and ever been.
I imagined all this, and further through
past unspoken words, your eyes reached for me
to caress them; with my gaze, undress you.
 

B.D. Eyeslie

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To caress them with my gaze, undress you
in the dreamy haze of summer's desire,
I'd leave no words unsaid, no lost, last cue,
to caress them with. My gaze undress you?
Locked away I'm far from the love I knew
'though I imagine richly and with fire
to caress them. With my gaze, undress you
in the dreamy haze of summer's desire?
 
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kborsden

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In the dreamy haze of summer's desire
where the land lies evenly on the heart,
there you'll find me playing with autumn fire
in the dreamy haze. Of summer's desire,
I can call the heat a blatant liar—
for no amount of lacking breeze takes part
in the dreamy haze of summers desired
where the land lies evenly on the heart.
 

B.D. Eyeslie

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Where the land lies evenly on the heart,
strings from the past pull at his soul.
Her journey to heaven began, in part,
where the land lies evenly. On her heart-
shaped stone, piled memories grow above art.
Cold granite takes truth as its toll,
where the land lies. Evenly on the heart,
strings from the past pull at his soul.
 
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kdnxdr

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strings from his past pull at his soul,
little children asking why?
living casualties, their lives the toll;
strings from his past pull at his soul.

their days, lost in shadows, a droll;
elusive identity has wishes to live by;
strings from his past pull at his soul,
little children asking why?
 
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kdnxdr

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to every reason that I lend
there's a question to be asked,
every thought can truly bend
to every reason that I lend;
arguement is thought's best friend
the quest for truth a daunting task,
to every reason that I lend
there's a question to be asked.
 

kborsden

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There's a question to be asked
if any you could call a friend.
Perhaps the truth could be unmasked?
There's a question! To be asked
is an honour for every class...
What's the answer, to what end?
There's a question to be asked
if any! You could call a friend.
 

B.D. Eyeslie

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Hold 'em

If any you could call, a friend
might further risk what's left for yours—
outstretched hands at the river bend,
if any. You could call a friend
and explain your impending end,
swirling down the drain with few oars,
if any. You could call. A friend
might further risk what's left for yours.
 

kdnxdr

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might further risk what's left, for yours
the hand of greed knows no limits;
beware! for evil, want has no cures,
might further risk what's left for yours.

betrayal, with loving embrace, lures,
an intimate kiss to innocent cheeks flits;
might further risk what's left for yours,
the hand of greed knows no limits.
 
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B.D. Eyeslie

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The hand of greed knows no limits
as any poor slob can tell you.
Its cunning wit has fleeced my mitts—
the hand of greed knows. No limits
are placed when it comes to gambits—
magically, money goes straight through
the hand. Of greed, knows no limits
as any poor slob can tell you.
 

kdnxdr

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as any poor slob can tell you
he doesn't understand this perception;
this image is definately untrue
as any poor slob can tell you:
he works all day, to family he is true,
his failings are the exception,
his indiscretions are so few;
as any poor slob can tell you
he doesn't understand this perception.
 
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B.D. Eyeslie

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He doesn't understand this perception;
the angle of his thinking is off.
It's not that he abhors the elections—
he doesn't understand. This perception
of freedom is more-or-less exception.
Of the outrageous things he should scoff—
he doesn't. Understand this: perception,
the angle of his thinking, is off.
 
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kborsden

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This one is really baaaaad; please, someone, do a better one:

the angle of his thinking, is off
by a degree, perhaps 90...
regardless, he will never scoff
the angle of his thinking. Is off
(the opposite of on) enough
to make the kettle brew divine tea?
The angel of his thinking, is off
by a degree, perhaps 90...
 

kdnxdr

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by a degree perhaps - 90
just a number not a name;
life passed by the window quietly
by a degree, perhaps 90.
memories, passages between sanity
and loss seem the same
by a degree perhaps - 90,
just a number, not a name

(Can't say this one is any better but, at least, we gotta keep the thread moving!) :)
 
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StephenD

"progress"
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just a number, not a name-
(it's the same)- we are inherented one.
chaos buzz we seek to tame
-just a number, not a name-
to ourselves we have no claim
that's to say, we are none
"just a number, not a name"
-it's the same. we are inherented ONE
 
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Perscribo

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It's the same. We are inherent, as one
lost world holding peace signs. Litter the war
with your words, but when you're under the gun
it's the same. We are inherent. As one
shot is fired so a flurry has begun--
stuck to mountains, piling up on the shore--
it's the same. We are inherent as one
lost world, holding. Peace signs litter the war.
 
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