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 Entries to The Daily Poem Contest. |
It makes sense to keep them all in one place. 
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| 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. |
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