I have returned to DUP thrilled to see that it is not only still here but also thriving. I, however, have made a new account (Poetofthedawn12) to--I guess--start fresh. Please feel free to visit that account and know that I disappeared for a bit, but I am back...and know that this account will be deleted in the near future.
Narrow, unpaved streets and pressed flesh These are the pathways of London Both mind and town need a refresh Narrow, unpaved streets and pressed flesh Jointly, gears with other gears, mesh Buildings line the streets of London Narrow, unpaved streets and pressed flesh These are the pathways of London
This is another triolet. I would love for someone to tell me if they think it makes sense, because I am going to be using it to establish the setting of a part in my short story.
Cogs and gears begin to turn The inventor lights up with joy For the boiler, the coal will burn Cogs and gears begin to turn Steam clouts London, he has discerned Steam power we will enjoy Cogs and gears begin to turn The inventor lights up with joy
Hello, all! I have returned. This is not my usual submission, I know, but this is my first attempt at writing a triolet. It is common in Steampunk poetry and consists of eight lines of iambic tetrameter. I will be using this in a short story I am writing for my science fiction and fantasy class....
Amassed to rejoice in the sheer merriment of life Mother Nature has supplied us with this night And a companion to share in this sumptuous delight Moonlight crafts a titivation in the room as it streams through the ballroom windows
Music saturates the air, floods the room, and courses through our veins Blood is pounding, boiling under the surface of our skin, rousing ecstasy Twirling in the ballroom, as the clock strikes twelve, we glide on the marble floor Souls are ablaze, but the faces are obscured so we cannot see
Walking on the twisted path between the trees, I stumbled in the darkness Down on my soil covered knees, I looked up to see again the petrifying glow of your eyes Aided by the moon’s sorrowful light, I was able to see your silhouette Your look penetrated austerely, allowing me to again view the slow process of my own demise
Pleading to break free from your vindictive grasp So desperately, I wish to be forsaken, for you have secured me for so long Wearing the collar of shame and guided by the leash of detriment I am bound to do your will, though...