On Being Pure Poetry

Short, terse, unfriendly,
Yet sometimes quite emotive;
I am the Haiku.

What Poetry Form Are You?

And if I weren’t Haiku, I would be the Triolet.

If they told you I’m mad, then they lied.
I’m odd, but it isn’t compulsive.
I’m the triolet, bursting with pride;
If they told you I’m mad, then they lied.
No, it isn’t obsessive. Now hide
All the spoons or I might get convulsive.
If they told you I’m mad then they lied.
I’m odd, but it isn’t compulsive.

What Poetry Form Are You?

I’m not familiar with the triolet. I’m not a poet. Poetry isn’t me.

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