Winter fire

While I continue to receive comments about the Oh-so-Weird-Poets from the 3-D world, I’m hanging around with my Oh-so-Weird Poets in the cyber-world. (For a refresher see Poets are Weird.)
What I have here is a loose Vietnamese luc bat poem. To learn the form, head over to Robert Brewer’s description. If you like to count, this one’s for you. You’re going to be counting up to six, up to eight, rhyming these, repeating. Loads of not fun.

I wrote it for Poetic Bloomings #60. Fire poem.

(Can you tell I’ve been reading ancient English lit?)

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“Winter fire”

This was home of my bones.

These venerated tomes of ash—
parched kindlings, mocked and lashed
by hands that knew one slash would shoal
my literary soul.

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My prized abode of scrolls lies seared
to the marrow, revered
poetic volumes speared by fire.

Should pardon be required
when reckoning inspires me more?

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