I wrote a cinquain - reluctantly Resist the Cinquain Ship A song seems so contrived when asked to sit in line, with certain tone and certain beat, retreats. The words will hit the page, like regimented men, to march through thought and back again, to build A cage to hold the word, to tame the urgent beast, with the art of rigid word-smith, release The muse to break the bind I place upon my mind Less fear that its not good enough to speak The truth may never fit the limited constraint of time and rhyme and beat and when I let the word splash on a textile of perception with magnificent certain deception and expression of shape Rebel Resist the cinquain ship of 2, 4, 6 ,8, 2 One stressed, one unstressed syllable to count. To learn to try once more and fit the fated form I take myself to the water and drown. Splutter capture accent emotion on the wind I am grasping for a cliché rescind. Awen inspiration takes pleasure in my pain as the stress of stresses takes me again. Reader, can I ask you to stop and take a count of the syllables and accent of stress? or drop into the wide ocean of word and cliché let me be your mirror wandering through the clouds of dreams on streams of contentiousness pouring forth out of the human mind, mankind faking then shaking and awakening all kinds of forms and shapes shifting, smoke lifting in sublime rhyme chaotic form where nobody knows the prose where no-one was taught how to dance a stanza with grace truth comes from another place dancing unfettered magic and a dreamers magical action picks up pen and paper and lends his hands free and simple and under no bounds to the sound of his truth forsooth, for no grammar can bind, no punctuation blind the simplicity and essence of a star shining in truthful word and I
Posted on: Sun, 20 Apr 2014 20:47:38 +0000
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