Day 17: Poem (terzanelle)

There is a train whistle wailing at this darkest hour.
A moment when all living things seem still
and our depths on lonely walks will be devoured.

This empty sounding void, not brash or shrill-
A shoulder turned against the light of day.
A moment when all living things seem still.

Thick and black, no outline of the world portrays
such hollow wailing piercing hearts and souls-
A shoulder turned against the light of day.

Not seeking recompense, nor seeking to cajole
a desire to walk towards the light,
such hollow wailing piercing hearts and souls.

A pace that echos in the distant night –
A breathing, lonesome call-a crawling proclamation
of desires to move towards a light.

This empty hearkening, this desolate sensation
A breathing, lonesome call, a crawling proclamation
There is a train whistle wailing at this darkest hour
and our depths on lonely walks will be devoured.

***********************
Yesterday’s NaPoWriMo.net prompt to write a terzanelle got me thinking. I like the combination of building and repetitive lines in this form.

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Day 17: Poem (terzanelle)

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