Steep

The hills call siren-like and steep.
Two children share a wooden sled,
new snow is beckoning and deep,
the hills call siren-like and steep.
They landed in a shattered heap,
too fast to suffer, it was said.

The hills called siren-like and steep.
Two children shared a wooden sled.

 

Well, this started out to be a quadrille (44 words) including the word “steep” to link to dVerse Poets’ Pub, but somehow it turned into a dark triolet.  Theat’s an eight line, iambic tetrameter poem with the rhyme scheme: ABaAabAB, where capital letters indicate repeated lines.  I haven’t written one of these in ages.

January Pre-Dawn

Early morning
stars,
so sharp
they cut through
the blue-black back drop
of icy air,
hang above

staccato yips and cries
of coyotes 
so close,
as if I could 
nearly 
reach them
if I stretched – or

perhaps they could reach me, teach me
the desperate, wild
longing
in their cries