[stylist] Anoterh tumbling tercet but with an envoi

[KajunCutie926 at aol.com]

Jackie, yes of course.  Be my guest!  it's a  great little form or, as I 
call it, an extension of the already established  tercet.  Your words humble 
me and please do try one.  I will warn you  though that they can become 
addicting little demons.  
Thank you so much for your kind words.  You have  humbled me today and 
truly honored me.
Myrna
 
 
In a message dated 5/29/2012 4:38:56 P.M. Central Daylight Time,  
jackieleepoet at cox.net writes:

Myrna,
This is fantastic! I like your envoi as your title. It  tells me where I am
going, where I have been, the readiness, and to the  real beginning again.
It builds in intensity through your words and the  structure, and the need 
to
write becomes a passion.
This is something I  will try. Would you mind if I take your previous
explanation and this  example of it to my class which will begin again in 
the
fall? Of course,  you will be credited with the form as well as your 
writing.
Because many of  our poets go for publication, it might possibly add to the
number of  published poems using that form. 
I get the "Poem a Day series. Quite  honestly, your poetry far surpasses 
much
of what I read on a daily  basis.
I am thrilled with the fact that you share it all with us and thus  that
wonderfully passionate part of yourself for writing.
Jackie  
-----Original Message-----
From: stylist-bounces at nfbnet.org  [mailto:stylist-bounces at nfbnet.org] On
Behalf Of  KajunCutie926 at aol.com
Sent: Thursday, May 24, 2012 1:13 PM
To:  stylist at nfbnet.org
Subject: [stylist] Anoterh tumbling tercet but with an  envoi

Here is the example I said I'd send.  It is in  email  but I have also 
attached it. If you have trouble opening it  do let  me know. This tumbling
tercet 
includes the envoi although it is  a  very short envoi.  I do hope everyone 
enjoys the   read.

Myrna

After The Ink Spills

In the stillness of an  ordinary moment
Is heard a  whisper, an almost breathless
Miracle  of words tumbling into 

An opened jar of ink, and I listen
With a  heart in  need of their wisdom,
Their joy, their journeys, and   their

Love, and my hand, trembling with
Creativity's   anticipation, reaches for
The pen being held in the  arms

Of an  empty palette, safely comforted
Until the  time is right, until  the
Passion, the sweet voice of words, of painted 

Metaphor, is  perfect.  I wait, barely  
Breathing, unsure of where I will be  taken,
But willing to acquiesce, to  trust,

To believe in  creativity's path, to 
Believe in the  art of writing, always  
Knowing that all will be revealed to  me

After the ink  spills.




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