Four Eight-Line Poems

Hello friends,

Four poems from KNIT INK this week: an ottava rima and three triolets. Enjoy! (And if you do, please consider supporting my work by purchasing either my omnibus edition Knit Ink (and Other Poems) or something from my store.)

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LEAVES (Triolet)

Whose sorrow grew these hanging hosts
that rustle in the endless breeze?

The forest holds a court of ghosts
whose sorrow grew. (These hanging hosts

were sentinels of ancient posts,
but now are noosed to nameless trees.)

Whose sorrow grew these hanging hosts?
That rustle, in the endless breeze....

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ANAGRAM-TRIOLET FOR BYRON (Triolet, Anagrammed Lines)

She walks in beauty, like the night
(the bleak eye, knit with Luna’s sigh).
Beneath hues talking silky white,
she walks in beauty, like the night.
In haste, blue wakes the inky light,
with haunting sky the lakes belie.
She walks in beauty — like the night
the bleak eye knit, with Luna’s sigh....

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This final poem pair consists of an ottava rima and a triolet. The ottava rima is a palindrome by letter, and the triolet is a perfect anagram of the ottava rima:

OF MUSIC AND MEMORY

DISTANT MUSIC

Emote to me. Refill a note.
By eking, I sedate my awe.

Now all I give, lines dash, promote,
to visit inward — rose, yet raw.

Art eyes, or drawn it is. I vote
to morph sad, senile vigil.... Law,

one way, met a design I key.
Be tonal, life remote to me!

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DISTANT MEMORY

I grow a distant memory
of yellow petals knit in verse.

I weave the woodland’s eye, to see —
I grow a distant memory.

I bleed time gone. I leave, to be
a limitation I rehearse:

I grow, a distant memory
of yellow — petals, knit in verse.