It's Still Life

A Tale Without Title

I’m held by the call of doves.
Do they know the risks of love?
Oh the stories doves could tell,
the loss, the sorrow that befell
a tender heart, a stoney fit,
but that’s the nature of it.

Cool-hearted, crystal kiss, love
fell into dusk from skies above,
his arms entwined like ivy braids,
passion spilled right where they laid.
Coiled deep in folds they slip,
because that’s the nature of it.

Hear the flowers, bent near broken,
hear the pines, their scent soft spoken,
forest dim holds whispers cruel,
ripples fill that drowning pool
where her life did slowly slip,
because that’s the nature of it.

written for Poetic Bloomings: In-Form “Collins Stanza” which uses three poetic processes; (1) three sets of rhyming couplets, that create a (2) sestet, but with the last line of each stanza repeating (a line, phrase or word) to link it with the next stanza; making it also a (3) repeating form.