Holy Told-ye-o, I can’t belief
in the hot blustering sun, my pore rose
felt to the difficult ground, droopping it’s head and leafs
oh my pore pore pore rose. I am afeared its toast.
You rilly think it deservd this?
For heavens sack, it didn’t naught.
I loved that melliflous flour like I love my too kids.
I cant belief the weigh human beans with no apathy laught
about it dyeing!
Each pore’s a door, so keep no score
Soul’s enabled in timeless time
Grace in-pours, heart seeks an encore
Each pore’s a door, so keep no score
Bliss pulsates at our very core
Heightened rapture, oh so sublime
Each pore’s a door, so keep no score
Soul’s enabled in timeless time
22-August-2022
HMS, Rhymezone, PS Grammar
Triolet - Old or New Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Joseph May
Each pore a door, so spake folk lore
God’s abode is within
Pure of heart feel blessings in-pour
Bliss bubbling on our skin
There’s nothing to apprise
Each breath offers surprise
As love pulse thus does rise
Why ask for more
Each pore a door
17-March-2022
Quietus
Each pore a door, embracing joy
Pulsating inside out
Burning, endearing love ahoy
In rapture, we so shout
We feel it in our bones
Magnetism, our form hones
Peaked bliss, soul alone owns
Feel bliss in-pour
Each pore a door
05-December-2021
Quietus
Each pore a door, so be aware
Of each divine impulse
Silence, sidestepping ego snare
Manifests bliss at once
With God, to become one
No doing need be done
Enjoy life and have fun
Let grace in-pour
Each pore a door
28-November-2021
Quietus
Each pore a door, of bliss delight
Radiance within shines
Joy from which we never alight
Doing what God assigns
Cease thought flow; vaporise
Feel bliss magnetism rise
Behold offered surprise
Why keep a score
Each pore a door
19-October-2021
Quietus
I poured
emotions
in cauldron
and lit fire
and laughed
waited
and laughed
to see the outcome
I over the head
pored
pored
pored
I got bored
and chucked the
pore.
Are you sore?
The roof is a jig-saw of iron
veins scarred with dead-smoke.
The occasional un-cracked face
of glass peers down, remembering steam.
Each second is full, bubbling with noise to spare
newspapers crackle, feet tic along cement.
Machinery breathes as we push from the platform.
Not far enough from the panic, fields lay placid
fierce colors reach for your eyes, wash them
in your marble sockets. Sharp green rivers sway,
the glades sweating, lure you
to exist amidst their mirage.
Crimson curls along your cheeks, its finger rolling
out the creases.
Skies weigh hard again, crunching clouds
hold in the tears. The walls arch
as the tracks merge into tunneled darkness.
Feet tic along cement again, voices echo,
the heat from the person next to me leans
hard against skin. Invading every wrinkle,
every open pore.
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