All right, since I joined in a conversation here, I might as well post something

I've been writing poetry and prose for as long as I can remember. English is not my first language, although I mostly write in English. I've written under two different names over the years. One of my first published writes was Edges, a Terza Rima that I wrote back in 2005
When it comes to poetry, I greatly prefer writing in form and meter.


Soft echoes tremble, touching walls of night,
the single prints will tell she's come alone;
her gown- a kiss of green on season's white.

In moonbeam- tinctured snow she lifts a stone
to smell the comfort forest soil supplies,
she's silent- life drew edges words can't hone.

While molding stars to fit the tapered skies
she buries dying scents of past and yearns
for laughter's fragrance, rich as edelweiss.

When solitude enshrouds the trees, she learns
that even clustered paths are bound to split
and sudden folds in fate delay returns.

The pearls of malachite once strung in crowns
still match a smile each time the princess frowns.

by Chris W. Copyright 2005-2015