I don’t do Cinquains, no not me!
Much ado about nothing much.
Dedicated to Margo Roby. You know who you are!
Those of you who know me some, know I don’t do formal poem forms. No villanelles, no triolets, no sonnets, and god help me, what’s a sestina they boast about, nor a single Burmese climbing rhyme (only by fortuitous accident do I approach any rhyme), no tankas, not even the pleasant haiku, not even for you. Alright, alright, maybe a cento or two, some gentle thievery tastes too good for letting pass untouched. I’m mostly all dusty jeans in your backyard dirt.
And now Margo says, “cinquains”, and what the heck are those!
You can read Margo’s whole posting here. Otherwise, at its most basic it is 22 syllables. (But please, don’t ask me to count, more than fingers, more than toes!) And of the few variants, she says this…
The personal cinquain is the easiest as it allows you to work around the syllable count, if you wish, and focus on the number of words: 11. You may, of course, stay traditional and work with the syllable count instead: 2, 4, 6, 8, 2 in which case, don’t worry about the number of words.
I. ONE word for the person—a name or another descriptor.
II. TWO words that define or describe the person.
III. THREE words that describe an event related to the person.
IV. FOUR words that express the person’s attitude toward the event.
V. ONE word that sums up or otherwise concludes the previous lines.
So alright, it must be moon-stroke, but here’s my one brief stray into cinquain:
-
fishn’
poet
wonders why
tripped by how
dusted off, swims away.
caught.
So there, so brief, and you just kinda gotta look sidewise to catch the drift (of being a fish, never so much caught as when you think you’re not). And ain’t it odd, so little for so much commentary! (But fun is fun!) (or, I’m easily amused)
Margo further suggested,
Because a cinquain is short it is important to keep in mind the following mantras:
POETRY MOVES.
POETRY FORMALIZES.
POETRY COMPRESSES.AND SO, EVERY WORD IN POETRY
MUST BE THE RIGHT WORD.A GOOD POET NEVER COMPROMISES
LANGUAGE.
Alright, alright, do I hear a gauntlet being dropped? (Just me I know.) But just too delicious not to respond! And so,
-
poem being bad (mantras revisited)
poems sit. (politely said, meditate.)
poems relax. (dusty jeans seem just right.)
poems wander. (cover the desk with random notes.)
each word has travelled far, has history
and maybe will provide a hint (reluctantly).
a good poet is optimistic,
hopes he doesn’t land on his face.
but might.
neil reid @ june 2011
poem “stuff” for Margo Roby’s Tuesday Tryouts, The Cinquain Form, wordgathering prompt (my entrance, only a polite one month late!)
Dear Margo (so the commentary begins… ),
Alright, if you haven’t guessed, I adore what you contribute to this gathering around the internet fire. Me, I’m seat-of-the-pants, intuitive (if you’re polite), lucky (if I’m good), a copy-cat when I want (mimicry is praise indeed, my rational, my classroom too, osmosis-like). I’m a rock beside your well tended knowledge, garden-like. Admired. Appreciated. Yet here’s the rub, tell me some words “not to use”, as you’ve itemized, and with a smile, I’m all eager to employ every one! Delicious fun! Such is the humor of rocks and bears. But thanks, sincere.
bearly audible 
Neil, love this post from the first word to the last. That cinquain is awesome. A fine acknowledgement of Margo’s hard work.
Sláinte to both of you!
Pamela
Yet one more gold star for kindly comments Pamela! You bear the burden of kindness well, first in line, as often you are… and through and past all jest… sincerely appreciated. And yea, ain’t Margo great kindling with what she shares!
~neil
Oh, Neil. Pam beat me to it. I, too, love the whole post from first to last. I love the cinquain [which turned out particularly well], I adore the poem being bad, I got a little teary over the commentary, And you, my friend, will never use those no no words, especially if picking up the gauntlet, without considering that you are using them, and that, I believe, is all I asked. Draw?
I am so glad you are in my life with your humour and your wonderful blog that makes me think on my feet [something I don’t do too readily]. To the internet fire we all find ourselves around. And to rocks and bears. Delicious fun, indeed.
An apple for your desk my friend. You directly do what I hope sometimes I coincidently do. Rub two sticks, make some sparks. However it’s done, no matter to me! Says one fish to the other, “You seen that big hook with the yummy worm?… Hey! Where’d he go?”
And no conflict ever, except for dramatic effect. 🙂 Just a poetic hook!
My pleasure to respond.
You’re such a unique poet, Mr dusty jeans. Your commentary is delicious. “Poems being bad” is delightful. You got Margy teary and you made me laugh.
I am generally such a serious boy – serious poems, serious life, and besides my poems of late have become rather epic by my measure, so a dose, a splash, a pinch of something light was about time I’d say.
So the notion goes, if ya can’t wow ’em with craft, then, if you’re lucky, make ’em laugh! Thanks my friend.
Yea, you should lighten up. 🙂 You know when your poems do that you’re doing something transformative then. Neil, you do have the gift you know. Maybe form doesn’t interest you that much, because it’s just a convention, but then, art works with arbitrary conventions and I feel, in your own way, you’re making up your own form. Use of parenthesis, is one. You use that effectively. Envious.
Caught
Fish
Opened mouth
Hooked by cinquain
Played out laughing lines
Satisfaction.
I don’t eagerly do forms either, Neil, but you were having way too much fun,
Elizabeth
And aren’t you the clever one too!
Not bad from scraps that I almost lost in the dust. Sort of campfire poems perhaps, nothing serious, but something that goes with burnt marshmallows – you think? Besides, they say (the folks I listen to) that you can never have too much sugar!
Thank you Elizabeth!