Schnorrer, or: Worse

A Quadrille In the form of a not-Kyrielle He brought her presents every day, Penning serenades to sing her. She'd blush at every bouquet... Though, for her sweet words, doubts lingered... However, he couldn't ignore Her galivanting with swingers. She promised she was no schnorrer... Though, for her sweet words, doubts lingered. d'Verse Quadrille #136:… Continue reading Schnorrer, or: Worse

Openings, or: End game

A kyrielle Been playing for over a year; So, what might my best next move be? Could writing become a career? ~ Thus far, it's been purely for me. I've mastered some challenging forms. So, what might my best next move be? It's such fun to tinker with norms. ~ Tacticians, proficient, coach me. With… Continue reading Openings, or: End game

New Year’s, or: Reality

A kyrielle Every year, there's a New Year; and People make commitments to change That oft blow away like soft sands... Then we do it again - ain't it strange? Every year, there's a New Year; and We celebrate like it matters, Imbuing it with meanings grand; But weak illusions shall shatter. Every year, there's… Continue reading New Year’s, or: Reality

Sweet, sweet, or: Silence

A kyrielle I drop her off and collect her; Daily, you can see us walking; For me, all those walks are a blur... My child is constantly talking! I have given up on thinking; Her voice my every thought's blocking; Feels like waking after drinking... My child is constantly talking! I love her more than… Continue reading Sweet, sweet, or: Silence

Red rum, or: Ink wells

A kyrielle Every body drained of its blood, He came to be known as the Leech. While screams filled his mind like a flood, He quilled stirring ballads for each. For months, he'd observe them closely, Even learned their manners of speech. They were local heroes, mostly; He quilled stirring ballads for each. He would… Continue reading Red rum, or: Ink wells

Never, or: Their wildest dreams

A kyrielle Through bedroom window, warm breeze blew. Deposited by lush forest, They floated at the threshold to Magic realm where tall trees chorused. Before them, floated small canoe... Carried them to shimmering lake. They floated at the threshold to Stars mirrored in ripples opaque. Upwards, then higher, on they flew. As threads of heavens… Continue reading Never, or: Their wildest dreams

Floor, or: Ceiling

My 2nd kyrielle Kyrielle's rhyme scheme's open, but Three verses is (they say!) the floor. Still, I have come to heed my gut: Few verses are quite often more. I felt doubtful of short forms once; Epics seemed to pack louder roar... Now I know micros aren't runts! Few verses are quite often more. May… Continue reading Floor, or: Ceiling

Final word? or: Never

My 1st kyrielle Too many... do just as detached, Robot preachers urge undeterred. Ours will never be the last word... Though it soothes to feel tightly Latched. We stake claims on God for Control... Human hubris is so absurd. Ours will never be the last word; Only letting go can make whole. As firm reminder… Continue reading Final word? or: Never