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.

[AMETHYST]

Hi Kathy,

I too adored the conversational tone, the way the voice of the narrator invites the reader to 'see' with the inner mind what he/she sees, to feel the accumulative detail set a mood - I love Terza Rima's, and this is a perfect example of their beauty.

Hugs, Liz ..

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

I love the smooth rhythm of L1. I also LOVE '...trees are breathing earth;
The images and context within are excellent. The line ' its girth a measurement of time.' is awesome!



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

Excellent. The introduction of the green man, adds a twist of adventure.

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

Excellent