I just this second finished the first draft of a garland cinquain (Garland cinquain, a series of six cinquains in which the last is formed of lines from the preceding five, typically line one from stanza one, line two from stanza two, and so on.).

Here's more about it. I also read this article.

Perhaps soon I'll post my cinquain garland in a workshop. Oh, and as for that Post review of Crapsey, it's typical of attitudes toward women writers.

The "Confessions of a Convert" essay has errors in Crapsey's poems. So I tracked down the poems I was most interested in - here they are -

The Witch

When I was girl by Nilus stream
I watched the deserts stars arise;
My lover, he who dreamed the Sphinx,
Learned all his dreaming from my eyes.

I bore in Greece a burning name,
And I have been in Italy
Madonna to a painter-lad,
And mistress to a Medici.

And have you heard (and I have heard)
Of puzzled men with decorous mien,
Who judged—the wench knew far too much—
And burnt her on the Salem green?

- Adelaide Crapsey

~~~

Song

I make my shroud but no one knows,
So shimmering fine it is and fair,
With stitches set in even rows.
I make my shroud but no one knows.
In door-way where the lilac blows,
Humming a little wandering air,
I make my shroud and no one knows,
So shimmering fine it is and fair.

- Adelaide Crapsey


[This message has been edited by Mary Meriam (edited June 22, 2008).]

Thanks Mary for more information on this. I have printed these out and am heading for the couch to study them.

Looking forward to seeing your garland in non-met where it might attract more interest, i.e. responses.

And John, shallow is not the right word. I am quite taken by the idea of Johnquains.

And Barbara, Frank, Shaun and Anne, keep 'em coming. It's a challenge!

Janice, dear Janice, I cannot do as you say. My cinquains are metrical.

not a garland, not funny: sticking to compressed image (or, trying to)

Frieda

Livid
at fate’s raw gash
she spewed white tracts with hue
until they breathed, vivid with her
living.

Thanks for posting Crapsey's "The Witch" and "Song", Mary. I might have to read more of her.

Here's another Johnquain, or, at least it rhymes. The wit may have fallen by the wayside since I tried to have a serious topic.


One Time, Forever

She ate
The fruit, and he
Took some as well. Now we
Must face a jealous God who loves
No more.

She had
A weekend fling
That claimed her wedding ring.
Her former husband says she was
A whore.

Some joys
Are far too great
Both Gods and we can't wait
To punish for all time for once
Before.

Yeah, my crown cinquain above wasn't overly imagistic, I must confess. These are fun though...


Outlook

The waves
That crash below
These melancholy cliffs
Remind me that in violence still
Is peace


Release

No bird
That ranged the skies
Could know the cool release
That greets me as I plummet to
My death

You know, Frank, I like what you did here -

Dead poets
Now are gone,
But some still linger on,
Since profs insist that some of them
Be read.

And some
No doubt are good,
Write better than I could,
Write better even when they're cold
And dead.


E. Shaun - I'd make those two (outlook, release) into one poem, and find one better title. Maybe a few too many "that"s.

Hiya Seree! I keep hearing "blue" instead of "hue."

E. Shaun,

These are awesome. Very spiritual. I love them.

Anne

Frank,

I very much like this tri-cinquain. Makes me think of the trinity and the whole is very deep, but particularly your third stanza says so much with so few words.

Anne

Thanks, Mary and Anne.

I like those cliff and water poems, Shaun. (Don't jump.)

Seree, is Frieda the Mexican artist, Frida Kahlo ? It sounds like it might fit.