Line of Lost Souls [Rondeau Triolet]

I'm queued into a file of lost psyches.
It winds through time but lacks a hint of space,
and something heads the line that's unappeased
I'm queued into a file of lost psyches.
A greedy devourer remains displeased
despite the endless line and racing pace.
I'm queued into a file of lost psyches,
it winds through time but lacks a hint of space.

Dream Door [Triolet]

I dreamt the door looked out upon treetops
and I could walk out on blue sky and cloud
and see the world as would a tall cyclops.
I dreamt the door looked out upon treetops,
but in my dream I plunged into the copse.
Sky walking proved more dream than was allowed.
I dreamt the door looked out upon treetops,
but could I walk out to blue sky and cloud?

POEM: Immune Intelligence [PoMo Day 20 – Rondeau Triolet]

Antibodies tell other from I.
A thing my brain can't always do.
To unbid guests they're never shy --
antibodies fight other not I.
If It seems odd, they'll freely pry,
to ID that old sneaky Flu.
Antibodies tell other from I -
a thing my brain can't always do. 

POEM: Visiting Dystopia [Triolet]

I opened up a book to a strange land.
A storied portal let me travel through,
and I looked down an unknown city’s strand.
I’d opened up a book to a strange land.
Here, ironically, all great books were banned
to keep the locals home and quite subdued.
I opened up a book to a strange land;
a storied portal let me travel through.

POEM: Plummeting Arrow [Triolet]

That arrow can’t be meant for me
though it plummets toward my chest.
This is no time to turn and flee —
that arrow can’t be meant for me.
If I ran now, who would I be —
one of the crowd, just like the rest.
That arrow can’t be meant for me
though it plummets toward my chest.

POEM: The Flood [a Triolet]

The pounding rain will ease,
but still the flood follows.
The gale becomes a breeze.
That pounding rain will ease!
And stillness tames the trees
while runoff swamps the hollows.
That pounding rain will ease,
but still that flood follows.