Thread: cinquain

Sleeping
Slow and heavy breaths
Watching her at my side
God, she's beautiful
She's the one.

nick, you're doing a fabulous job, so i hope you're not put off by me mentioning, cinquain is written to a strict syllable count of ...

1st line = 2 syllables
2nd line = 4 syllables
3rd line = 6 syllables
4th line = 8 syllables
5th line = 2 syllables

Originally Posted by SoNickSays...

Sleeping (2)
Slow and heavy breaths (5)
Watching her at my side (6)
God, she's beautiful (5)
She's the one. (3)

maybe you could try again

Ah... I'm afraid I read the syllable count on the OP incorrect.

line 1 - 2 syllables
line 2 - 4 syllables
line 3 - 6 syllables
line 4 - 8 syllables
line 5 - 2 syllables

I read this like Line 1 has to have 2-4 syllables, and line 2 has to have 3-6 syllables etc.

I apologize. I must remember to read the description carefully. This habit had cost me quite a few points in numerous tests when at school.

I'll try again:

Sleeping
Slow, steady breaths
Watching her a my side
A smile frozen on her lips
Beauty

Beauty
perfectly formed.
Sighs mist the window as
a lonely watcher imagines
secrets

secrets
left unspoken
between us both, a look
a glance, a nod, a whisper of
knowing

Knowing
What your thinking
A feat I cannot do
I try so hard to be the one
you want.

you want
me to see you
so i promise to give
my undivided attention
watching

Watching
From far up high
Bustling people below
One destination on their minds
City

city
hustle bustle
folks rushing hitherto
honking horns, flashing neon lights
siren

Siren.
God, they've caught me!
They're gaining too much speed!
The strong bumper hitting my back...
Caught...

(Very bad, sorry )

weeeeell, it's not too bad, i spose... *blink*

although i've had to improvise the last line


i'm caught
betwixt - between
ensnared by werds spoken
formulating bold conjunctions
to trap

to trap -
the hunter waits,
suspended on gleaming
translucent threads, a delicate
danger

danger
danger, danger
batten down the hatches
southwesterlys are ripping off
the roof

the roof
held by grey slabs
try worshiping the clock
imagination, bring me home
away

away
beyond the ken
of mortal men, flying
skyward, ever upward, flights of
fancy