

True Love TrioletFew truths are ever written but they're rude, As poets to the least be larks and curs, But suffer thee by this one to be wooed: Few truths are ever written but they're rued, As things I write in love thou thinkest lewd. (Though in thy misted windowpanes And twisted sheets By subtle feats Thy hubris into hunger neatly blurs...) Few things are ever written but they're rude, As poets to the least be larks andTrue Love Triolet


Boneyard TrioletSeven rods in slivers lie. Seven shivered shafts Of lightning, awful to the eye, Where raven, rook, and wolf (un-shy And long-bone lustful) fret the hafts. Seven rods in slivers lie; Seven shivered shafts.Boneyard Triolet


An Arctic TrioletA waste, to hold your vernal breath And hope, full-flower'd, you I'd love Despite my gelid shibboleth (a waste, too). Hold your vernal breath And blue your blossoms unto death, O wistful, witless victim of A waist to hold; your vernal breath; And hopeful, flower'd, ewe-eyed love.An Arctic Triolet
...and I thought I had a decent vocabulary too...*sulks*
[link]
--
Night ballad broken by the thunderWhiteHotLightWasBrieflyShone
OldOak,it'sRottingRootsAsunderTornFromEarthItLongHadKnown
TornFromMonotonousPastMadeRoomForGrowthOfGrassNext day
AndSureAsLighteningStormsWillpassHere~DeerAndAntelopewillPlay.
--
Night ballad broken by the thunderWhiteHotLightWasBrieflyShone
OldOak,it'sRottingRootsAsunderTornFromEarthItLongHadKnown
TornFromMonotonousPastMadeRoomForGrowthOfGrassNext day
AndSureAsLighteningStormsWillpassHere~DeerAndAntelopewillPlay.
besides, it's nice to see simple, sort of film-noir anthro art instead of the sparkle-kawaii-neko wierdness that seems to dominate the genre.
also, if i see another wolf-and-moon piece on the Popular list, i might just gouge my eyes out...
--
Night ballad broken by the thunderWhiteHotLightWasBrieflyShone
OldOak,it'sRottingRootsAsunderTornFromEarthItLongHadKnown
TornFromMonotonousPastMadeRoomForGrowthOfGrassNext day
AndSureAsLighteningStormsWillpassHere~DeerAndAntelopewillPlay.
i want to see a lamprey howling at the moon. or how about a were-slug?
--
Night ballad broken by the thunderWhiteHotLightWasBrieflyShone
OldOak,it'sRottingRootsAsunderTornFromEarthItLongHadKnown
TornFromMonotonousPastMadeRoomForGrowthOfGrassNext day
AndSureAsLighteningStormsWillpassHere~DeerAndAntelopewillPlay.
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