Yesterday, it was as if every creep in Bangalore was on the street. I wrote them all a cinquain, my third CaPoWriMo poem. I like the 22-syllable format. It allows for really crisp and cutting verse: my favourite kind. (For more about CaPoWriMo, go here.
Matter Over Mind Cinquain
Her mind
was filled with spite,
Her heart as black as night;
She was, he thought, a vicious blight.
Nice tits.
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4 comments:
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