Triolet: For the Birds

It’s Napowrimo, it’s Day 25, and a triolet for the birds on the seed feeder was born.

Finches cling to full seed feeder,
grounded thrush pecks yellow mealworms,
pigeons play, ‘follow my leader,’
finches cling to full seed feeder,
as earth, the garden weeder, turns,
throwing worms to redbreast cheepers,
feels warmth in soil and from it learns.
Finches cling to full seed feeder,
grounded thrush pecks yellow mealworms.

Polly Robinson © 2013

Birds Fight at the Seed Feeder (Photo credit: dagnyg)

A triolet is an eight-line poem. All the lines are in iambic tetramenter (for a total of eight syllables per line), and the first, fourth, and seventh lines are identical, as are the second and final lines. This means that the poem begins and ends with the same couplet. Beyond this, there is a tight rhyme scheme (helped along by the repetition of lines) — ABaAabAB.

Triolet: Mole

Below the ground moles chuckle,
Velvet ears, dim eyes, claws paddle,
Soft sweet whispers in a huddle.
Below the ground moles chuckle,
But o’er the threshold moley straddles,
Smells the fragrant blue cheese truckle.
Below the ground moles chuckle,
Velvet ears, dim eyes, claws paddle.

Polly Robinson © 2013

A triolet is a stanza poem of eight lines. Its rhyme scheme is ABaAabAB and often all lines are in iambic tetrameter: the first, fourth and seventh lines are identical, as are the second and final lines, thereby making the initial and final couplets identical as well.

Summer Sun – a triolet

Following Catherine Crosswell’s first triolet “Pass the Parcel” back in April, I’ve been meaning to have a bash at one.  Today seems the perfect day, it’s so hot, too hot to actually do gardening [much as it needs dealing with!] – well, that’s my excuse anyway, as if I need one!

So here it is, my very first triolet.

Summer Sun

The summer sun beats down, merciless,
And the birds are exhausted with heat,
Sparrows dust bath, pigeons purr.
The summer sun beats down, merciless,
Up with sunshades, lounge, don’t stir,
A sun lotion Sunday paper treat.
The summer sun beats down, merciless,
And the birds are exhausted with heat.

Polly Robinson © 2012