(The poetic form selected for this week is the French triolet).
I heard them drive a nail in my coffin.
He’ll die, they said, once he loses air.
Next there was a thud and they were laughin’.
I heard them drive a nail in my coffin.
I used to give them cheek, in fact quite often.
Apparently it’s more than they could bear.
I heard them drive a nail in my coffin.
He’ll die, they said, once he loses air.
To hear the poem read aloud click HERE.
Weave a Web 
This is wonderful, Bruce: The Premature Burial with humour. Love it!
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Thanks Chris. I enjoyed creating it!
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One of the spookiest things I’ve ever read–well done!
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Thank you, Nanette! A compliment indeed!
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This is like a dark old folk song Bruce, I love it.
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Thanks, Andrea. I hope you sing it at Halloween!
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I thought you might like this ‘dusty and shadowy’ poem, Bruce Almighty.
The Poem of the Future
By J.R. Solonche
The poem of the future will be smaller.
It will fit in the palm of your hand,
on your wrist, in your ear.
The poem of the future will not need
bulky batteries or cumbersome wires.
It will be powered by moonlight and weed.
The poem of the future will be automatic.
It will go for months without routine maintenance.
It will be faster, smoother, with a digital tick.
The poem of the future will be lighter.
It will be made of plastics and exotic metals.
It will be available in hundreds of shapes and colors.
The poem of the future will make our lives true.
It will perform in a second what it takes
the poem of the present a day to do.
The poem of the future will talk to us.
It will say things like “Buy IBM,” and “Be my friend,”
and “Pulvis et umbra sumus.”
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“We are dust and shadows” – a quote from Horace for those who must look it up! Thank you, Yvonne, for the poem. And it is amazing how things turn in a circle with Horace being the poem of the future!
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I don’t know what has made this poem so powerful, so unsettling —the format with those refrains or the mischievous tale you have squeezed into the poem?
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I find that refrains either enhance or kill a poem. Many a ghazal have I dumped in the bin! I’m not sure I know why things work in these traditional forms – rhyme, rhythm, number of syllables, refrains…
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What a rhythmic commentary! Nature is full of rhymes, iterations and music. And when they’re not natural, they sound phoney.
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It’s always a satisfying moment when the word you want to use actually fits into the scheme of things!
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And sometimes the words flow like a mountain stream. Sometimes they shimmer like a mirage that is just not there.
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That’s true. But there’s nothing wrong with a mirage…. Is there?
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I guess not.
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I like the repetition – and the story, of course
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It’s very cruel to like my being stuck in a coffin!
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