INTERVAL THREE: Triolet Park

D.A. Prince: A poet considers becoming Prime Minister

I used to think PMs were catatonic,
Prosaic, plodding. I've got rhyme and flair.
Give me a chance, then. I'll not be laconic.
I used to think PMs were catatonic
But I'll reveal how poetry's bionic,
That rhyming, scanning, witty stuff we share.
I used to think PMs were catatonic.
Prosaic, plodding. I've got rhyme and flair.

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Martin Parker: Triolet for a mis-spent weekend

My weekend was spent on wine, women and song.
I knew it was wrong; but it felt oh so right!
I tried to resist but their call was too strong.
My weekend was spent on wine, women and song.
My only regret was it didn't take long
to render me knackered, sore-throated and tight.
My weekend was spent on wine, women and song.
I knew it was wrong; but it felt oh so right!

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Jean Syed: The Bunny Jump

I didn’t like P.E. at all,
Is it still there, the Bunny Jump?
Along the floor my hands would crawl
I didn’t like P.E. at all
But now P.E. I must extol
To kids who think they are not plump.
I didn’t like P.E. at all,
Is it still there, the Bunny Jump?

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Joanna Bird: At a Loss

You loved me once, but then it all went wrong
For reasons quite beyond my comprehension.
With passion I believed was firm and strong
You loved me once. But then it all went wrong
When I said I thought we’d always rub along
And could you add me to your old age pension?
You loved me once, but then it all went wrong
For reasons quite beyond my comprehension.

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Emma Power: Double Triolet

Then . . .

The words fall from my lips,
You’re all that I've admired.
My heart does double flips.
The words fall from my lips,
Your touch, your fingertips,
The feeling I’ve desired.
The words fall from my lips,
You’re all that I’ve admired

Now . . .

The words fall from my lips,
Sorry, but I’m too tired
My heart can’t cope, nor hips.
The words fall from my lips,
Remove your fingertips,
Your touch is not required.
The words fall from my lips,
Sorry, but I’m too tired.