Four Triolets + Podcast News

Hello friends,

I’m delighted to announce the launch of my new podcast, FATE OF THE ARTS!

How do the arts evolve when the ground keeps shifting? Through conversations with working artists and creators, this podcast looks at how new technologies, new ideas, and changing audiences are transforming creative practice today.... (...Expect lots of wordplay / word nerd content too!)

You can subscribe using your favourite podcast app here: https://api.substack.com/feed/podcast/1706790/s/318928.rss

Episode 1 features a conversation with acclaimed TV writer Jane Espenson. Listen here.

Now some poems…

Four triolets this week.

The triolet is a simple form with rhyme scheme ABaAabAB, where uppercase letters here indicate repeated lines (these repeated lines normally feature the same words, in the same order, while either varying or preserving punctuation). The first three triolets below are in iambic pentameter, while the fourth is in iambic tetrameter.

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.)

Alternatively, buy me a coffee on Ko-Fi!

OTHERWORLD

I have not left, nor have I stayed.
The Otherworld has taken me.
I’ve slipped between the cracks we made;
I have not left, nor have I stayed.
Someday, you’ll find me in the glade—
we'll meet beneath the knotted tree.
I have not left nor have I stayed.
The Otherworld has taken me.

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ABOVE AND BELOW

For every wave that swallows ships,
there's one that spits them from the sea.
(Abyssal serpents lick their lips,
for every wave that swallows ships.)
For every mast the seas eclipse,
you'll find another rising free.
(For every wave that swallows ships,
there's one that spits them from the sea....)

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ANAGRAM-TRIOLET FOR PERCY SHELLEY (Anagrammed Lines)
 
My name is Ozymandias, king of kings.
A knife, I kiss my sand, my gazing moon.
My sky moans ink, so fazed, imagining
my name.... Is Ozymandias king of kings?
“An oak-size infamy!” my kingdom sings.
A sinking sky my maze, I’m fading soon —
My name is Ozymandias, king of kings.
A knife, I kiss my sand, my gazing moon.

---

ADRIFT

We don’t belong — yet here we are,
adrift atop a cloud so rare
and wonderful it’s flown too far.
We don’t belong yet, here: We are
the only beast that maps the stars —
we’re reaching for a kingdom where
we don’t belong yet. Here we are,
adrift atop a cloud so rare.