We plight our troth for little but froth
To be whelmed in plight, ashes and sackcloth
The phrase is plain but blind we remain
It is hard to enjoy a stone broth!
A Troth of Clouds
David J Walker
That’s the thing about a drought
Clinging to any hint that things are about
to change
That clouds will rearrange their
Formations of the fanciful
floating menagerie of imagination
into an apologue of Storm Clouds
or long soaking gentle rains
(I try but fail to remember the smell
Of moisture mixed with earthy dirt
The textures of the mix of mud
That somehow mixed and created
flesh and blood
on Earth as it is in heaven)
That’s the think about a troth of clouds
Ever changing their minds
Being, becoming,
though different the same
All motion reflexive,
where time rules the game
Being, becoming,
whose vow is enforced
When married to both
—refusing divorce
(Bryn Mawr Pennsylvania: February, 2021)
yellow ribbon tightly tied
on a stem of an oak tree
'tis a token of troth pledged
by two soon to wed.
Writing Challenge - Dodoitsu - Poetry Contest (Winner: 1st Place)
Sponsored by Constance La France
Date written: 10/02/2020
Why's your jaded tongue so slyly used
To words buttered with ensnaring tone;
Piping fibs empirical proofs poorly prop,
Waxing lies into truth's patented throne?
I with all joints and full sinews distrust
Grandiose jibes oiled by your tired lips;
And luckily mock all façades and crust
With which you gild your tempting trips.
No backing writs your warping crafts
Uphold with faintest discernible facts;
Nor do your self-blotting points agree
With any of the truth-tied deities three.
And not for tons of pleasure-lilied wiles
May I in dream your baiting tunes sing;
And neither for gain of full cosmic clout
Might my soul fall for your deking miles.
Man's indeed contented heart only craves
Pure verity as passed by its martyr slaves.
To you my villanelle I plight my troth
A poem both dignified and full of play
I love your form and elegance ,oh both
In your form I’ll never insert oaths
Neither will I boast of making hay
To you my villanelle I plight my troth
I’ll take you in my boat to the North Coast
From you I expect no reward or pay
I love your form and elegance ,oh both
You are a welcome visitor to host
Though you look both diffident and fey
To you, dear villanelle, I plight my troth
And when my friends come round we’ll drink a toast
To wordsmiths and to poets on their way
We love your form and elegance ,oh both
On my bed at night I gently rest
Knowing that I wander as your guest
To you my villanelle I plight my troth
I love your form and elegance ,oh both
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.