The Wall I Wasn’t Seeking (a rondel poem)

boulders

You may be the boulder, below
and the wall I wasn’t seeking.
I perhaps am the poem speaking
these rhymes which you do not yet know.
 
You may be the wind, howling low,
and I, the tree branches creaking.
You may be the boulder below
and the wall I wasn’t seeking.
 
I hear distant calls from the crow
as the moon through clouds is peeking, 
I do have a growing feeling.
Though I honestly don’t yet know,
you may be the boulder below.
 
POETIC FORM: Rondel

A French form, similar to the rondeau and the triolet, consisting of 13 eight-syllable lines in three stanzas.
Rhyme scheme = ABba/abAB/abbaA
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First Touch (a rondel poem)

image

The way your hand makes love to mine —
as though we’ve both been here before,
(perhaps a different life we wore?)
our palms just like the stars align!

Your touch is warm and your eyes shine!
Two dancers swaying on the floor:
the way your hand makes love to mine —
as though we’ve both been here before.

Our fingers and our souls entwine,
the way the sea kisses the shore.
Your gaze becomes an open door,
intoxicating as the wine —
the way your hand makes love to mine.

—–

POETIC FORM:  RONDEL

13 lines in 3 stanzas; rhyme scheme: ABba/abAB/abbaA (uppercase letters are refrains) Usually 8 syllables per line.