Poetry Month American Cinquains (A five-line poetic form in which lines 1 through 4 have 2, 4, 6, and 8 syllables, respectively, and line 5 has 2 syllables).
April 1 (inspired by a drive through the Flint Hills after prairie spring burns):
woven among black ash
remnants, fiery tweed of renewed
April 2 (inspired by a Kim Stafford reading at Watermark Books, a William Stafford Centennial event):
Might it be genetics?
Talent passed from father to son?
April 3 (inspired by this also being Jazz Appreciation Month):
swing notes, two-four,
sevenths, ninths, elevenths, thirteenths.
April 4 (inspired by the first thunderstorm of the spring):
Out at the edge
Of hearing. The clearing
Of a storm’s throat, a stage whisper:
Pen. Letters. Elegance.
poem is always
fun but then there must be
some scheme or logic, rationale,
all that blood, corpuscles –
white and red – and plasma. The stuff
our feet breathing softly
what more could we need in old age
perch in clusters
on pear trees like close friends
bees flit, flirt, hum as petals start
is a comin’
another check I’ll write
not enough deductions for a
heck are April’s
showers? Here comes young May,
looking to plant flowers. Too dry?
A – P –
R – I – L – T –
H – I – R – T – E – E –
N – T – H – April Thirteenth –
catch snow, don’t scowl,
stand sturdy and strong, tall,
but think of Amsterdam in spring,
of blood red moon
old earth’s shadow once more
makes the moon’s visage dimly blush,
with an iPhone
takes patience, eyesight, small
fingers, I have learned – then again,
day in the past
Thornton Wilder was born.
Gairrison Keillor told us this
Crucifixion and death.
God’s Friday, Pious Friday, Good
cardiology. I prefer
Mornings the sun
rises, brimming over
with forgiveness, atonement for
Color with abandon
Every day of every spring.