The Triolet Trail

And quite confused, looked at his nurse.
He whispered with the slightest smile,
“That’s not a way to start a verse.”
And quite confused, looked at his nurse,
“Can't imagine it could be worse,”
he said aloud, then screamed awhile,
and quite confused, looked at his nurse.
He whispered with the slightest smile

He whispered with the slightest smile
your writings fine, but not what we wanted
try again, your known, not in the slush pile
he whispered with the slightest smile
your name and address is in our author file
write again the editors won't be haunted
he whispered with the slightest smile
your writings fine, but not what we wanted.

Your writing's fine, but ... Not what we wanted
were the endless dark clouds that obscure.
The words which describe have also haunted
your writings. Fine, but not what we wanted.
I too love my adjectives undaunted;
however, surely I must demur.
Your writings fine, but not what we wanted.
We're the endless dark clouds that obscure.

We are the endless dark clouds that obscure
the path to where we go and where we've been.
The sum, the total of what we endure,
we are. The endless dark clouds that obscure,
are merely cocoons that keep us safe for
the journey that with each new step begins.
We are the endless dark clouds that obscure
the path to where we go —and where we've been.

the path to where we go - and where we've been,
its rise and fall, a breath, the breeze which carries us,
holds itself and we are lost, hesitant to step again.
the path to where we go - and where we've been
(sleeping underfoot), our destination we suspend;
anxious for our history, it throws us in a fuss,
the path to where we go - and where we've been,
its rise and fall, a breath, the breeze which carries us.

its rise and fall, a breath, the breeze which carries us
to the distant shores of our daydreams
of white sands, blue oceans, and nets to discuss
its rise and fall, a breath, the breeze which carries us
where tides sweep away the angst of our fuss
like islands to never come between in the streams
its rise and fall, a breath, the breeze which carries us
to the distant shores of our daydreams.

to the distant shores of our daydreams,
we sail, our destination we imagine,
confirming our secret schemes;
"to the distant shores of our daydreams!"
we're often dupted by what life seems,
but anew, we let the dreams begin;
to the distrant shores of our daydreams
we sail; our destination, we imagine

we sail! our destination we imagine;
arrive or not, we've come unbound
with wings unfurled, we catch the wind,
we sail; our destination we imagine.


'tis not the point, the landin',
be it death, or life profound;
we sail! our destination we imagine,
arrive or not, we've come unbound

Arrived or not, we've come unbound
by the scythe. The Reaper yields souls
that sway too close to the Fall ground;
arrived or not. We've come unbound
from our bodies that brought the sound
of rain and wind; out of control;
arrived or not. We've come unbound.
By the scythe the Reaper yields souls.

By the scyth the Reaper yields souls
with the salvation, of a New Year
changed the fate, of your own ghouls,
by the scyth the Reaper yields souls
the guardian who changes the rules
stepped into the track of one tear
by the scyth the Reaper yields souls
with the salvation, of a New Year!

We welcome, newborn, liberated trials
of excess. Inform venerated sages
that "less-is-more" is readily reviled.
We welcome newborn, liberated, trial-
by-jury circles sitting; full of smiles.
Which erodes faster this time? Slick ages
we welcome, newborn. Liberated trials
of excess inform venerated sages.

Of excess, inform venerated sages
intentions cannot be compromised.
"Incessant norms" toward literary pages
of excess inform. Venerated sages
forget, as they stumble through the Dark Ages,
their own brainchild had once been revised
of excess in form. Venerated sages'
intentions cannot be—compromise!

P.S. use L2 or L8--your choice.

Intentions cannot be compromised
by businessmen jostling aboard
bumpy trains, coffee spills. Outsized
intentions cannot be compromised
in this sip-and-dream time that flies
straight, plain, and trusty. Ignored
intentions cannot be compromised
by businessmen, jostling aboard.

(going again - that was a difficult leave!)

Buy-business men, jostling a board
heaped with contracts and boxes
of sloppy Chinese take-out, gnawed
by businessmen. Jostling aboard
their dim, fluorescent ark, this horde
of dull-word shufflers peddles stocks as
buy-business men, jostling a board
heaped with contracts and boxes.

Heaped with contracts and boxes
to turn into storybooks
but not know of any foxes
heaped with contracts and boxes
or how to become any crooks
who turn out books like poxes
heaped with contracts and boxes
to turn into storybooks.

To hopefully turn in, to storybook
pages my eyes open to receive dreams.
When I was young, I tripped on lines it took
to hopefully turn in. To storybook
writers, dreams can spring from the way we look.
To live each day; to write this way; it seems
to, hopefully, turn into storybook
pages. My eyes open to receive dreams.

onestepp said:

Heaped with contracts and boxes
to hopefully turn into storybooks
but no know of even any foxes
heaped with contracts and boxes
or how to begin to become crooks
heaped with contracts and boxes
to hopefully turn into storybooks.

Click to expand...

Missing line 5 - should be 8 lines
syllable count by line: 8, 10, 10, 8, 9, 8, 10 - should be same for each line

Now might be a good time to review the definition of a triolet - or to discuss questions or problems using it?

Thanks for catching my error in the form, changed the error after I looked at the form again for the Triolet.

Heaped with contracts and boxes
to turn into to storybooks
but not know any foxes
heaped with contracts and boxes
or how to become any crooks
who turn out books like poxes
heaped with contracts and boxes
to turn into to storybooks.

Pages my eyes open to receive dreams,
like a garage door opener gone wrong—
it's this damn new-age alarm clock that beams
pages. My eyes open to receive dreams
of the naughty-or-nice list by the ream;
there is no time to read a million long
pages. My eyes open to receive dreams,
like a garage door opener gone wrong.

We could not park out feet without falling
stars in the heavens command our beckon
straighter than an arrow as if calling
we could not park our feet without falling
without looking back or footsteps stalling
strides in the right direction, I reckon
we could not park our feet without falling
stars in the heavens command our beckon.

Stars in the heavens command our beckon
as we focus on our mud-covered shoes.
Our world just might end at any second—
stars in the heavens command. Our beckon
prayers go unanswered by thee who reckons,
rolls the dice sharply, and assigns our dues.
Stars in the heavens command her. Beckon,
as we focus on our mud-covered shoes.

As we focus on our mud-covered shoes
we see the world. Through today's muck,
the world's last ending plays the blues
as we focus. On our mud-covered shoes
rests the crap of misinterpreted news.
They report we are now out of luck
as we focus on our mud-covered shoes.
We see the world through today's muck.