The age old art of writing rhyme
a poet’s fond endeavour,
can take unconscionable time
the age old art of writing rhyme;
he seeks perfection with each line
though he achieve it never,
the age old art of writing rhyme,
a poet’s fond endeavour.
I couldn't resist posting this ready made triolet when I saw that Grace had chosen the form for her Imaginary Garden post, and inspiration for a new one was lacking today - although I may add another later, if the muse strikes. Stranger things have happened...
And here is mark two, already. The muse must have been listening...
If words decide they must be heard
all poets have to pay them heed;
we know writing can't be deferred,
if words decide they must be heard.
They sing as sweet as any bird
rejoicing, as from cage it's freed...
If words decide they must be heard
all poets have to pay them heed.
