Mortaine’s Blog

Miso Soup

Murky water, hot
Salty suspension in flux.
Comfort anytime.

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Alcohol Triolet

You like your wine, don’t you?
A thick taste to your addictive vice.
Red blood of the Son, reborn anew.
You like your wine, don’t you?
The warm, fuzzy feet in your head, too.
You’re the king of the world. Now, isn’t that nice.
You like your wine, don’t you.
A thick taste to your addictive vice.

I don’t like the triolet much– I was distracted when I wrote it.

Voiceless

How does a voice get lost?
Did you learn your silence?
Whatever killed the song
That you once lifted up?

I miss your voice, your cry
I miss the sound of joy
But also of sadness.

I wonder in the dark
I whisper your silence.
Losing you to my ears,
I cannot hear you now.

The silence you have left
Deafens me. Loneliness
Mutes all sound, all silence.
I can’t hear anything.

I miss your voice, your cry.
I miss your song of joy,
But also of sorrow.

Stephanie Cottrell Bryant
April 17, 2003 (or thereabouts)

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This is a syllabic verse poem of my own formula. Each line contains six syllables.

I posted the poem I wrote for poetrychallenge and the photo I took for photochallenge here.

Feel free to comment or give feedback or otherwise tell me what you think about it (apologies to those who are in one or both of the comms I posted it to– this is the last spam, I swear).

Oh, and there’s a lunar eclipse on Thursday night. At sunset on the West Coast. Be there.