A/N: My take on the Terza Rima poetic form… or at least my attempt at one! 😛
Upon perishable rooted wandering shores
The wind’s recitation, a hectic dream
Through the picturesque of yellow moors:
Slick, blackened, chaste, o’er oozy silver streams.
The slice of bone, inheriting shimmering
Stardust, torn from rocks and ribs in unseen dreams
The red quail sings to mankind, shivering—
A dimension of mutiny in its breast,
Chopped in single, black coffee hairs simmering
As harrowed as cruelty in raucous compressed
Dreamscapes when leaving is quiet by a mouth
Of wintry darkness—swimming from the split rest
From rib of man in the dark planet about
A hovering apex of dissembled flat words
In the wood-ward azure no one vows
To own, to live—whispered, imitated in herds
And filled with fertile scrubbed seeds, each word planted
Secular, renowned, unknown, this cut of rib merged
Onto old rocks; paths in the rattling desert
Brushed on the hillside; beauty is disbanded.
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