Working on meter and form poetry over at Writing Our Way Home. This is a struggle for me. I've always been a free verse girl, but wanted deeply to learn forms. My attempts at tercets (without counting the meter):
The Hiding Hermit
Where does one go when one isn’t present
Cramped in a hole twisted, stuck and bent
Worry swirls round with evil intent
The sun may shine or the clouds may roll
Matters not to the sunk and buried mole
Who fears the world beyond his little hole
Wait it out and this too shall pass away
Maybe tomorrow, next week, who can say
When the hiding hermit will come out to play
And then:
Heavens Serenade
The skies split and the water flowed
No birds, no crickets, nothing showed
Up for days ‘cept a tiny thrilled toad
Only the patter and pound on dry earth
The gulps and belches of merry and mirth
For the end of the regions dusty dearth
Flowers bloomed bright and bold
All glittered and gleamed like polished gold
The creatures were content, young and old
Rockers on the front porch creaked and swayed
As life once again flourished and played
In the sweet nectar of heavens serenade
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