Spider webs hang their silk like cobs
from splintered stalks of sentences
that wonder where words went wrong.
Trapped in thick thread they struggle
to capture the cadence of chaotic rain
that drenches dreams in drowning.
Silver scissors shear through shrouds,
releasing clear sprays of syllables,
luminescing like the feathers on a grackle’s neck.
Purple then black then blue they shine
swirling pieces of soul pushed like silk
through a spider’s deep duct spinneret.
Brenda Warren 2016
Notes: A poem didn’t magically appear today. It was a struggle, so I turned to a poetic form. A triversen is written in tercets, or three line stanzas. Each tercet is a sentence. The first line should be an observation or fact, while the following two lines are used to set the tone, imply an associated idea, or carry a metaphor for the original statement. A triversen should also carry the rhythm of human speech having 1 to 4 stresses per line. Use alliteration.
Elizabeth provided six words for today, along with a prompt. The words are also posted at The Sunday Whirl. This piece is not written to prompt, but it was fun to try a triversen again.
Visit The Sunday Whirl
Outside our window, a robin scolds its young,
Raising a racket, while our children plummet into real people
Peeling away from us, like bark cracking from trees.
Staccato scolding becomes a morning refrain—
Tempering the separation,
That tightens our chests.
The robin gathers worms for its young,
Regurgitating from its beak
Pink strings of sustenance.
In contrast to the robin’s morning meals,
We spare our children, and let loose the latch
That binds them to the soul of us.
Cold drafts spiral through our window
Striking a strident pace of threaded current
That traces trails toward our children’s goodbyes.
Later, our pain blends with the robin’s
When a fledgling falters, falling from the sky
right into the gaping maw of a feral feline.
My staccato call quiets the mother
as I mimic its morning scoldings
and surprise it with echoes of its cry.
Brenda Warren 2012
Gay at dVerse Poets’ Pub introduced the Triversen form this week. Click on the link to read more about the form. I wrote one Triversen for the pub on Thursday, but I wasn’t done with the form yet, so I used it to put the wordle word’s to play. Be sure to visit The Sunday Whirl for other pieces that incorporate these words.
As the day grows long,
We survey our landscape of silence,
Slipping into it whilst shadows slide across earth.
Dark sloping hills hold deep secrets
That litter valley floors with lilting white lies
Like so many kicked through scattered leaves.
Dust from crumbled pedestals settles behind us
Shrouding gray our glimmering newness
And settling our souls with its soft sighs.
Against the deep smell of fecund earth
We relinquish to gravity’s force
And grind holes deep within the mess of us.
Night tangles our limbs
Like a nest of earthworms writhing,
To investigate their space in forever.
Brenda Warren 2012
Visit dVerse Poets Pub for more Triversen poems.