It was a moment that went unnoticed, I thought that I was just living; inside, thoughts were being processed, imagining that I could be forgiving;
Time became a great pretender, to forget was an impossible aim; teaching me that this offender tried their best to hide their shame;
I tumbled on in a desperate air, into the future, I was falling; ideas left me in a difficult care, insistent on a decisive calling;
So it was that I became stuck along with my liberation; someone new, yet still the same, struggling towards my transformation.
A Trolaan shared with dVerse on the theme of crisis. Trolaan, created by Valerie Peterson Brown, is a poem consisting of 4 quatrains. Each quatrain begins with the same letter. The rhyme scheme is abab for each quatrain. Starting with the second stanza, you use the second letter of the first line of the first stanza to write, each line beginning with that letter. In the third stanza, you will use the second letter on the first line of the second stanza and write, each line beginning with that letter. In the fourth stanza, you will use the second letter on the first line of the third stanza and write, each line beginning with that letter.
Well, personally it has been the most blessed thing to have found friendships in living books- that are these elderly souls walking, waiting to be asked, to be poked- to only turn into child like once again. But it is also true as much that the one will find you, the one you might be searching for. These friends don’t only carry stories, but discipline in varied ways. Experience of the land that can be found nowhere else. I bow to one such teacher who blessed me with a magic life saving skill.
I keep a room in my mind for you, my secret is there, though you don’t know; Like a box of memories, the things you do and say as I watch you learn and grow.
I keep a room in my mind for things that once seemed so important to me; The joy and sorrow that it brings are all accessible subconsciously.
I keep rooms in my mind for many, some, I decided, needed their doors closing; And further in, there’s still space for any that the future reveals to me proposing.
Somewhat inspired by the thought in James Clavell’s Shogun that Japanese people keep everything in their mind in separate spaces in their minds.
An erasure poem using text from the condescending and unreadable “The Chinese Have A Word For It” which I duly decided was only worth cutting up and using for this purpose.
I don’t know how to get WordPress to format text the way I would like, so have added a picture at the top of the post, followed by the original text and below, text that can be cut and paste.
each new track identifying;
each system distinguished: require rain
immediate mobility stores people usable;
raise issue there, not anywhere
further decree want permission denied key request and petition test
family houses – only register change, report ration;
millions, a new look; still control, still for order, new and all available space
Men forever falling In an upward trajectory Coddled and enabled By patriarchal society
Spoiled little baby boys Never educated beyond Their own expectations And how their fathers would respond
Unable to face facts Unused to quality thinking Cultural acceptance Sees the population shrinking
Half the children useless The other half without success Societies in chains One hundred per cent in distress
Monkey see, monkey do It’s a man-child evolution XY chromosome death Maybe the only solution
The patriarchal privilege in Thai society disgusts me and both women and men are suffering because of it. The solution proffered here is extreme because I don’t know how it can be fixed. I am a useless man-child myself.
Airs punctured by gasoline, a perfume of our cancers; shout out, the suffering scream louder than any answers.
Once unseen, I will surprise; smash me, I will not succumb; bitter salts anaesthetise, remaining forever numb.
Stagnant water starts to clear passing through old time’s filter; endlessly, year after year, re-righting the Earth’s kilter.
I meditate in silence, breathing calmly, taking stock; to counteract the violence, I am an island, a rock.
Submitted for a final AllPoetry assignment. I tried to incorporate the senses into this poem more than I would normally do. This whole poem is also inspired by an Alan Watts quote:
“As muddy water is best cleared by leaving it alone, it could be argued that those who sit quietly and do nothing are making one of the best possible contributions to a world in turmoil.”
For the last line – apologies to Simon and Garfunkel.
Syllable count per line – quatrain : 7 Rhyme scheme: Quatrain – alternating rhyme and Cinquain Rhyme types: mostly perfect rhyme Personification: I am a rock! Senses: smell (gasoline/perfume), sound (shout/scream), sight (unseen) touch (smash me/numb), taste (bitter salts) Alliteration: shout/suffering/scream, any/answers, unseen/surprise/smash/succumb Assonance: shout out/louder, unseen/surprise/succumb, stagnant/starts, I/silence, meditate/in, counteract/the, am/an/a Consonance: salts anaesthetise, re-righting Metaphor/simile: The first stanza is a metaphor for the chaos of the world. ‘Once unseen’ – rocks are not something noticed but always there. ‘Bitter salts’ – lick a rock, it tastes salty. ‘Numb’ – rocks have no feelings. “passing through old time’s filter” – mineral water cleaned as it passes through rocks. “re-righting the Earth’s kilter” – no matter what mankind does, the Earth will sort itself out.
Written for W3 Prompt #160: Pick a single abstract noun that carries weight, mystery, or tension for you—something like liberty, danger, truth, love, exile, justice, forgiveness, joy, grief, silence… Don’t use it until your poem’s final line. Start each line with a description or action that leads us toward the noun, not from it. This is called left-branching syntax—it means delaying the main subject or verb. You’re working with delay, accumulation, and unfolding. The noun you’ve chosen arrives only at the end. Until then, build around it, toward it, beneath it. Let readers feel its shape before they hear its name. From Deepseek: The word “opia” is a fascinating and relatively obscure abstract noun that captures a very specific, almost paradoxical feeling. It refers to the ambiguous intensity of eye contact—that unsettling, electric sensation when you lock eyes with someone, and the moment feels both intimate and invasive, vulnerable and powerful.
Constant communiqués of despair The end of times always kept in mind The hollow rings of Happy New Year Distracting us from our daily grind We become living embodiments Of the catastrophes we’ve foretold Trapped within these dark environments Hopes are fading for the dreams we’re sold
Embolden the heart! Be courageous! Inspire action to defend the world Sell, not be sold to, is contagious Flags of faith, hope and courage unfurled Hope becomes the energy of change A radical audacious duty With optimism, we can arrange Our thoughts towards a life of beauty
1994ever 