On The Verge, Sonnet in Tersa Rima Options

[Guest_Kathy_*]

On the Verge. (Tersa Rima)

Alone. It's hot. Familiar odours steam
in tones of brown. The trees are breathing earth;
dark humus wets their feet and mine. I lean
against an ancient Puriri, its girth
a measurement of time. It gathers me,
absorbs my consciousness, and gives me birth

into another world ... of energy
that flows between the trees; that fiercely sweeps
in elemental chaos from the sea
and buffets, sneers at innocence that sleeps
upon the threshold. Help! A sly green man
is giggling in the leaves, enchantment creeps

in tangled vines. I run while yet I can,
my feet inspired by panic, lent by Pan.



NB: The Puriri is a New Zealand native tree.

[Eisa]

Beautifully written Kathy. I love your easy, conversational style, where rhymes just blend in so naturally.

On the Verge. (Tersa Rima)

Alone. It's hot. Familiar odours steam
in tones of brown. The trees are breathing earth;
dark humus wets their feet and mine. I lean
against an ancient Puriri, its girth
a measurement of time. It gathers me,
absorbs my consciousness, and gives me birth

into another world ... of energy
that flows between the trees; that fiercely sweeps
in elemental chaos from the sea
and buffets, sneers at innocence that sleeps
upon the threshold. Help! A sly green man
is giggling in the leaves, enchantment creeps

in tangled vines. I run while yet I can,
my feet inspired by panic, lent by Pan.

At the moment I can see nothing I'd change except perhaps the last but one line where 'yet' sounds a bit of a filler.

Perhaps ~

in tangled vines. I run while I still can,

in tangled vines, I hurry while I can

in tangled vines, I race off while I can


NB: The Puriri is a New Zealand native tree.

Hugs Snow