Daily Poem Entries

Cinquain

Cinquain

Cinquain poem now returning
From the country of just five -
Even lines are overturning,
Thrust the rules into the burning,
Now at last we are alive.

Poems come and swiftly leaving,
Creatures of so brief a time,
Joyful lays or sadly grieving,
Let us hope they’re not deceiving -
Just as long as they do rhyme.

Though this form be so constraining,
‘Gainst my normal taste of verse,
Yet the thing be still good training
And from laziness refraining -
Surely there are things much worse.

Now I see with shock extensive
The form has made me clear forget
Horror was the goal intensive,
Leaving me extremely pensive -
Perhaps my howl will pardon get.


Line count: 20
Form: Cinquain, rhymed abaab and flirting with trochaic tetrameter.
For The Daily Poem, 02.13.26
Prompt: Horror.