An exercise in trois-par-huit.


Undercaffeinated

Slow the beat
Of heavy tired feet
That pound against the unyielding track

And the fog-shrouded brain insists on drifting back
To the blithesome coffee, abandoned, growing cold,

The mug listless fingers yearned to hold
That now must wait its while:
One more mile




Poetry by Lady Courtaire
Read 71 times
star mini Editors' choice
Written on 2021-05-21 at 20:37

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Michael R. Burch The PoetBay support member heart!
I agree with the accolades. In fact, I would like to discuss the possibility of publishing this poem, and others of similar quality, via my literary journal, The HyperTexts. You would be in very good company with some of the best poets writing today. Please let me know if you're interested.

Mike
2021-06-15


Editorial Team The PoetBay support member heart!
Your poem has been chosen to be featured on the home page of PoetBay. Thank you for posting on our poetry website!
2021-06-07


Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Nicely done.
2021-05-21


Ducks
I love the rhythm of this. Somehow it feels like running. There's some undulating pulse that reminds me of the early morning run.

An excellent trois-par-huit. I think the form lends itself so nicely to this contemplation.
2021-05-21