Three Cinquains

photo Sylvia Duckworth

Spiders
Work in the night
Wrapping the garden in
Silk ribbons, turning peas into
Presents.

 

The girls
Unearth the beets.
They pull their hair and scrub
Their cheeks and fill the sink with hands
Dyed pink.

 

Cinquains
Grow slowly, each
Line slightly longer than
The one before, building up to
The end.

 

I was reminded of the cinquain by a fellow poet this week, so I went back and read again about Adelaide Crapsey and the form she invented. Crapsey appreciated haiku and invented her own, similar form, the cinquain, which has five lines of two, four, six, eight, then two syllables. After writing many haiku over the summer, I was curious to revisit the cinquain to see how it might feel different to write in a form that was intended for English. I even took one of my haiku from last week and rewrote it as a cinquain. For me the haiku feels like two photographs brushing against one another as they fall, while the cinquain feels like climbing a little hill before jumping off the other side.
For more Poetry Friday go to A Year of Reading

(c) 2012 Elizabeth Ehrenfest Steinglass, all rights reserved

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August Haiku

tomatoes
tug the vine
waiting

a summer sunshower
harvesting rainbow chard

scrubbed beets
a sink full
of pink hands

a dog
     a splash
          swaying cattails

one more carrot
yanked from the garden
a car starting

August leaves
sag in the afternoon
I count days

(c) 2012 Elizabeth Ehrenfest Steinglass, all rights reserved

We were lucky enough to spend a few days in Vermont with dear friends. The highlight of our trip was harvesting vegetables from the garden–tomatoes, carrots, beets, broccoli, and rainbow chard. The kids especially loved pulling the carrots and beets from the dirt and scrubbing them in the sink. I wrote these haiku when we got home, savoring my memories of those days far from the city. They make quite a contrast to the haiku from June. The end of the summer is in the air. For more Poetry Friday go to Violet Nesdoly/poems.

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Four Animal Couplets


Burrowing Owl by Squeezyboy at flickr

 

Never disturb a sleeping owl.
Their waking thoughts are always fowl.
Want to pet a porcupine?
You can be the first in line!
If you try to question a horse,
She will answer neigh, of course.
Think you can be a strong as an ant?
Think again. You can’t.

© 2012 Elizabeth Ehrenfest Steinglass, all rights reserved

My poet-friend Sharon Barry shared a brilliant couplet in our poetry critique group this week. It reminded me of Ogden Nash’s wonderful couplets about cows and mules. I wanted to try, too. I wrote them all week. These are my favorites.

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Good-Bye Old Shoes

I know I can’t wear them one more day.
They pinch my toes. It hurts when I play.
My mom says it’s time to give them away,
But I’m not ready. I want them to stay.
I remember the day I got these shoes.
I remember the way they looked brand new.
The white was so white; the blue, so blue.
They were meant to be mine. I swear it’s true.
When I first put them on, I wanted to roar.
I felt so springy, I leapt to the floor.
I felt so fast, I ran through the store. 
I needed more room, so I dashed out the door.
I’ve worn these shoes for weeks and weeks.
I’ve worn them to hide. I’ve worn them to seek.
I’ve worn them to sneak and peek and streak.
On rainy days I can make them squeak.
If I give them away, where will they go?
Will their feelings be hurt? How will I know?
Could anyone else love them so?
Someone should invent shoes that grow.

© 2012 Elizabeth Ehrenfest Steinglass, all rights reserved

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Sleeping Likes

I have a cat. Her name is Kate.
She likes to sleep in an old pie plate.
Kate’s best friend is our dog Clair.
She likes to sleep with her feet in the air.
When I sleep, I like to lie in bed
With a nice, soft pillow beneath my head.

© 2012 Elizabeth Ehrenfest Steinglass, all rights reserved

We’re back from our vacation in London where I kept mumbling the old song about London Bridge. Maybe that’s what got me wanting to write something for a younger audience. Back at home I spent the morning reading old Baby Bug magazines. Poems for preschoolers are so simple and fun and so much about sound, which is what makes them so hard to write.

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How to Greet a Cat

If the cat’s a stranger

Begin by bowing low.
Extend a single paw,
Respectfully and slow.
Allow the cat a sniff
And a turn in the sun,
So she can be the judge
Of all that you have done.
If she lies before you,
You may stroke her fur.
But do not be confused.
She is still superior.
If she slips away,
Like a silent wisp of fog,
Do not try to follow.  
Go and find a dog.

© 2012 Elizabeth Ehrenfest Steinglass, all rights reserved

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Things to Do If You’re a Crocus

Be brave
Be first
Burst out of the ground
Before anyone expects you
Catch the light
Stop people
Make them notice
Purple
Pretend its warm
Pretend you’re tall
Pretend spring is the only season
Bow out
Give the others a turn
Dissolve into tissue paper
Sleep

Come back

© 2012 Elizabeth Ehrenfest Steinglass, all rights reserved

At Wild Rose Reader (http://wildrosereader.blogspot.com/) Elaine Magliaro has a wonderful poem, “Things to Do If You Are a Grandfather Clock: An Original List Poem.” Before reading her poem, I had always thought of list poems as lists of items, like a list of groceries or a list of things in a pocket. Elaine’s poem expanded my horizons and inspired today’s poem.

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Blue Ribbon Nest

Darling, for you!

I’ve built this nest.

For you, my starling,

Deserve the best.

I started with mud

To mortar the sticks

To make it strong

Like a house of bricks.

I’ve shaped it round

To comfort your end

As you sit and sit and

Our chicks you tend.

To soften your seat,

I’ve lined it with fur

From our neighbor the cat

With the deafening purr.

But that’s not all.

For you, there’s more.

I’ve added front steps

And a solid oak door.

I’ve found blue ribbons.

And woven them in

To match the feathers

Beneath your chin.

Darling, for you,

I’ve built this nest.

I hope you’ll agree

It’s by far the best.

© 2012 Elizabeth Ehrenfest Steinglass, all rights reserved

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Cinquain and Fibonnaci

Running
Running
Feet go thumping
To the heart’s strong drumming.
I make my own beat when I go
Running.

 

Growing

I
am
bigger
all the time.
I am growing like
a vine. I am climbing to the
space above the house, the ground, the clouds, and even you.

© 2012 Elizabeth Ehrenfest Steinglass, all rights reserved

Today I have two additional forms that follow specific syllable patterns. Both were invented in the US. I wonder if that makes them more suitable to English somehow. The first is a cinquain which was invented by Adelaide Crapsey in the early 20th century. The syllable pattern is two, four, six, eight, two. Sometimes the first and last lines are the same; sometimes they are not. The second is a Fibonnaci poem which means that the number of syllables in the lines of the poem follow the sequence of Fibonnaci numbers: 1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 8, 13, etc. Do you see the pattern? You add two numbers in sequence to get the next one. Fibonnaci numbers describe the spirals in many things from the natural world, like pine cones, flowers, and nautilus shells. I wrote this in response to the Tuesday Poetry Stretch at the blog The Miss Rumphius Effect. There’s also a great video about the Fibonnaci sequence on the blog.

 

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Early Morning

In the dark they sing
For the folded crocus
In the dark they sing
For the dim daffodil
In the dark they sing
For the somnolent tulip
In the dark they sing
For the imminent crowd
In the dark they sing
For they cannot wait
In the dark they sing

For the lingering sun

© 2012 Elizabeth Ehrenfest Steinglass, all rights reserved

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