Poetry

Spoken
freely, giving
voice in the silenced place
where into darkness roots what is
needful,
a term undefined by all but
the living of what may
resound truly
within.

(I’m starting to try to learn about different poetry forms. This is a mirror cinquain. A regular cinquain is 5 unrhymed lines with a syllable pattern of 2, 4, 6, 8, 2 so a mirrored cinquain is 9 unrhymed lines of 2, 4, 6, 8, 2, 8, 6, 4, 2 syllables. It feels very weird to not just sort of write things as they come, but I’m hoping it’ll help me write something that speaks both truly and beautifully someday. That might also be the topic, both this hope to improve my writing and what poetry is to me, I suppose.)

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