Cooking Up a Storm, er, Form

There was something about the dizain,

It suited me down to the ground. 

It is not the case with the trimeric.

(I keep wanting to call it turmeric.)

It suited me down to the ground,

the dizain. But the trimeric puts me in mind

of ground-up spices – or, I suppose, ground down.

It is not the case with the trimeric

that my mind rises lightly to the challenge 

like a perfect syllabub. (Syllables are not to be thought of.)

I keep wanting to call it turmeric,

and to take ship for the spice realms

to acquire more flavour, or even a whole new recipe.


Written in response to a form challenge at Poetic Asides.
Sharing (July 2017) with Poets United's Poetry Pantry #364