Sunday, May 15, 2011

Hidden treasure

(based on suggestions from @realnixwilliams, @mlledelicieuse, @lucyrogue)

Kept them almost all the sweetened year

White and dark and milk, the flavours three

Silver linings, eggy clouds held dear

Brothers scoffed the lot down before tea

Whined for months about her hidden stash

Knew the useless cadence of their plea

Another Easter shone round in a flash

Foil peeled, her prize devoured slow

Toothy crack of shell and gentle smash

Away from siblings, secret pleasures grow

Melted lips and chocolate eyes aglow.


Today’s poem, the third-last, is based on suggestions from three peeps (how appropriate):

  • @realnixwilliams: “flavours that come in threes”
  • @lucyrogue: “The last Easter eggs”
  • @mlledeliciuse: “Write 3 stanzas, trilogy style”

I always kept my Easter chocolate for ages, even as a kid. Even now Paul has dispatched his by lunchtime on Easter Sunday, and mine hangs around in the cupboard almost until the next Easter. It nearly kills him not to eat it. Probably just as well I’m an only child, as this habit would have driven my siblings mad. Or more likely they would have just found my eggs and eaten them.

Today’s poem is a terza rima, a form where the stanzas have three lines with the interlocking rhyme scheme ABA, BCB, CDC etc (you can have any number of stanzas, but @mlledelicieuse requested three). A terza rima usually ends with a couplet that repeats the rhyme of the final stanza’s second line (hence ‘grow’ and ‘aglow’ to rhyme with ‘slow’ in my poem). Terza rima was first used by Dante, and usually is written in iambic pentameter (five feet to a line: da-DUM da-DUM da-DUM da-DUM da-DUM). Here endeth today’s lesson in poetic form.

Two poems to go…


mademoiselle délicieuse said...

I have a chocolate bunny sitting in my pantry from Easter 2010. Didn't purposely save it, just never got around to eating it. Can't bear to throw it out either so thinking of melting him into some dessert...

Anna said...

I knew somehow that you'd be a chocolate-saver too, Rita.

mademoiselle délicieuse said...

Perhaps it's the only-child thing? Or maybe the Virgo thing...