Poetry game - cinquain

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Dingfelder

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Here is a poetry game maybe easier than the haiku game, but also ... harder in many ways.  You choose what fits your mind this day the best. It doesn't have any of the classical poetry strictures, like use of seasonal words.  There's less a sense of elegy or longing or impermanence.

The game is each person taking the last line, or at least a really good part of the last few words, to launch the first line of her own poetry.  Part of the fun is envisioning something the next person can use to soar in their own way, with you to thank!

And the structure by syllables is 2-4-6-8-2. It doesn't have to rhyme.

Example:

My Messy Room

My room
is such a mess.
Toys all over the place.
Mom says, “Clean up!” But I like it
like this.


From: https://www.poetry4kids.com/lessons/how-to-write-a-cinquain-poem/

From there too:

"Though they are just five lines long, the best cinquains tell a small story. Instead of just having descriptive words, they may also have an action (something happening), a feeling caused by the action, and a conclusion or ending."

It's really weird to start trying to do, but once you get into it, it's a bit of a mind-stretch, which is always fun and healthy.

I'll start:

Like this
I scramble eggs,
Twist, whisk, never enough,
or too much, until the plate, Mom,
proves it.

Okay, that's much harder than "prove it." Small changes are fine to use.  Being creative is fun, and you can change the tone from serious to elegaic to sarcastic, whatever. The point is the fun and creativity of the thing, within the bounds of the form forcing us to be creative and not just flabby.

Good luck and lets go!
 
Late night
commercials oh:
the hokey and the sweet,
American hawkers are on
display.

-crofter
 
Toast toes
before the fire:
a winter time pleasure,
and our nightly meditation
at camp.

But my rhymes do not start with proves it.
-crofter
 
At camp
the pageant plays
before me all day long:
hawk and bunny, lizard and ant,
all gone.

-crofter
 
All gone,
dark before dawn.
Easy quiet transforms
into your silence, rigor, shifts,
absence.
 
Absence
is an echo
of your light and calls you
into the small warmth of what I
know now.
 
Be well
in the tumble
of our fortuity;
who knows where a human soul might
settle.
 
Settle
for abundance
in limitless pastures
just beyond the far horizon:
our land.
 
Our land
spreads before us;
can illimitable soul
draw itself down to say no I
am not?
 
Okay that was way too hard of a last line. Let's make something more user-friendly. Use whichever last line you like though. Oops also just realized line 3 was 7 instead of six, my bad. :(

Our land
spreads before us;
can soul's eternity
surrender to our narrow shades,
static?
 
Static—
Movement stilled, killed?
Hissing, poor reception?
Or the jolt of joining that sparks
New life?
 
New life?
Peanut butter
on hot crisp toast murders
the sense that all is as it was
just now.
 
Just now
a squirrel boomed
like thunder on my roof
and I have to wonder, Just who's
in charge?
 
In charge?
I have to move
my trailer; freezing rain;
Reel favors in? Who's a friend when
you need?
 
For you,
My heart is close
knowing you cannot be
poisoned by what I know and still
survive
 
These days
it's easy to
rattle off what we think
without thinking what it might mean
to you
 
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