Plowing and sowing the world of sleep
It was hard work, but he was a farmer to his soul
Little furrows stretched to the horizon containing the roots of fertile dreams and scream-inducing nightmares
Lying there, waiting to be harvested
Once he was ready and picked them, Morbius would pay him handsomely for this crop
Wait till the slumbering humans were served these delectables!
Never sang in front of more than a couple dozen people before
Evert could feel his legs try to quiver with just the mere thought of the packed concert hall
Ready and waiting for him to come on stage and open his mouth to let those songs free
Vivian smiled warmly as she straitened his collar. “You’ve got this.”
Oh, he got something all right. Got to go to the bathroom that is.
Under the harsh bathroom light, he looked himself in the eye and thought..
So what was it going to be? That’s when he threw up.
Making that walk down the hallway, her feet heavier with each step
If she had more time to think, more time to make sure, more time to know if this was right
She was now having doubts, yet here she was wearing white and wondering if she had an “I do” in her.
Everyone was waiting, but looking down that aisle felt like she was walking her last…
Maybe the rolling stone wasn’t that great after all
Only by finding a quiet, still place can you put down some roots
Soul-nourishing peace grounding away the pent-up anxious energy
Soaking in patience waiting for the right stone to come
So much angst when he stepped onto the platform
Cold sweat dripped down his back as the numbers cycled
All of his hard work undone by pizza and wings on his birthday
Leaving him waiting for the bad news
Except when he compared the number to that of an NFL lineman, well then he was okay
Everyone is waiting for the election results
Xantax has become the concession of choice as we watch
Purple states become more red or more blue
Leading to highs and lows for both sides
Only at the end of it all
Do we accept the results and figure out what is next or
Everything going to go big boom?
A cinquain is a five line poem that has the following form:
2 syllables, 4 syllables, 6 syllables, 8 syllables, 2 syllables
The author is allowed to add or subtract 1 syllable from the count for each line. I decided for my first one I would follow the purest form of a cinquain.
It’s just a start
Waiting for creation
So when you get to the ending
Dinner was coming soon, he was sure of it
It just meant waiting a bit more
Not that is stopped him from eating a candy bar
Everything would be fine as long as she didn’t find out
Can’t you take the anxiety away
And leave me feeling serene
Looking at the bottle of bourbon, waiting for its response
Meanwhile, since it didn’t answer, I decide to go double or nothing.
It all began with the damn balloon animals
Now it was a crazy full-scale balloon house
For goodness sake, at least he didn’t have a balloon wife
Looking back it should have been obvious
As Peter was always obsessive-compulsive
Though this was taking that compulsion to an extreme
Everyone kept waiting for it all to pop