Tulips
Tulips,
neath parasols
in May fields, chime in Dutch
whose petaled voices wreck the skies
like breaking music from a diva's breast
in chords of praise that cleave the dawn
and notes of prayers that lull
the night--my prized
tulips.
neath parasols
in May fields, chime in Dutch
whose petaled voices wreck the skies
like breaking music from a diva's breast
in chords of praise that cleave the dawn
and notes of prayers that lull
the night--my prized
tulips.
FORM: Rictameter http://www.shadowpoetry.com/resources/wip/rictameter.html
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