The Mighty Cinquain

The Poet, Adelaide Crapsey, is best remembered for creating the cinquain. Crapsey (perhaps unfortunately named) was heavily inspired by the Japanese forms of poetry: haiku and tanka.

Much like the haiku, cinquains usually contain vivid imagery and are used to convey a certain emotion to the reader.

In 1915, Crapsey published a collection of poems called Verse. The book contained twenty-eight Cinquains, some of which are considered some of Adelaide Crapsey’s best work. If you want to see those, here’s a link for ya!

The cinquain has a relatively simple structure which, much like a haiku, relies on a number of syllables and lines.

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Poetry 101 Rehab – Smile


Keep smiling.

Don’t stop.

Lest the facade crack and split
Like the Papier-mâché creases in your cheeks
That you chew on the inside.


Lest your face burst like a piñata,
Split down the centre as all that
Not-so-sweet emotion comes tumbling out.

For God’s sake smile,

‘It’s not like anyone’s died.’
At least, not on the outside.
And that is all that matters.

Smile. Continue reading “Poetry 101 Rehab – Smile”

Poetry 101 Rehab – Road

I’ve been told not to follow the beaten track,
To make your own path in life.

Unfortunately, I’m no 4X4
And when the tarmac is cold and unforgiving
You can forgive a man who makes an easy living.

A simple job, A simple life
With time for children and time for my wife.
Yeah, that sounds nice.

I wasn’t built to go adventuring
And a concrete jungle would blunt a machete.
I think I’ll follow the road.

This week Andy Townend chose the prompt RoadGo check it out and enjoy some of his fantastic writing while you’re at it!

An Ode to Walkabout

Ah Walkabout,

What sweet sounds swell from inside
Your sapphire depths. Mismatched with care;
The Harmony from the latest party hits
And The Fresh Prince of Bel Air.
Your oddity attracts posterity.
Swarm seekers of primal movers
And Grinders, queueing for hours into
The night. No one is more of an approver
Than I of your untold corners
In which no-one is found forlorn.

Inside, crowds swell with graceful
Terpsichorean choreography.
Bodies locked in symmetrical
Mating ritual cartography,
Making maps of their partner’s bodies.
Every inch of you is a musical force,
Even in your rest room patrons
Are regaled with coarse songs:
‘No Armani, no punani’ as
They are sprayed with perfumes of class.

Though the night wanes, and the
Pulse-beat heart of music slows,
You stand strong and unchanged and
I know you’ll still be there tomorrow.
Some nights, when I’m wandering
Aimlessly through the streets I think
Of you, your technicolour kisses
On the lips of amber vodka drinks,
And I find myself drawn there
My heart beating in sync with your music.