I balk at cinquains; they’re one of my least favorite forms, certainly on the bottom five with the hated, hated kyrielle and rondelet. I think of them as tanka a fraction too short, with line breaks in the wrong places; I prefer the “American sentence” to the cinquain. But, we must all stretch in some kind of new direction, so I decided to give it a whirl when the prompt went up at NaPoWriMo. Both of these were inspired by a quick jaunt over to the High Line at lunch. The first, I think, has a better Interesting Moment; the second was an attempt to get across both the positive and negative reinforcements to not leaving a place. Eh.
I also wanted to do the overheard-snippet-of-conversation prompt at Poets + Writers, but you know what? Walking around a city, it is nigh-impossible to hear any useful phrases. And if you get past the wind, the trucks, the horns, the sirens, chances are it’s in another language. And if not, people are usually pretty boring. So I’ll probably skip that prompt and do Barbara’s instead.
and lemon peels
make drapes of different smoke
around our picnic where the house
banged in a bin,
or a lone crocus stripe:
which wall is greatest when it’s time