I appreciate the nod poetinhat made to a comment I made via PM, but I am always hesitant to jump in on a game such as the cinquain train. The reason? I offer this cinquain to explain.
Shall We Cinquain?
Any
poet can make
each line break fall per specs,
but that just makes a reader say,
"So what?"
A train such as this typically results in a large number of inferior poems as to craft, as poets don't think about what the form is telling them, how the form and the words should work together. Here is something I wrote about cinquains a year ago, when some controversy arose about cinquains and whether the form had any value.
The cinquain form is somewhat unique, in that it can be traced back to one poet: Adelaide Crapsey. She wrote these in the late 1800s and early 1900s, before she met an untimely death at 36 years of age. Therefore, her cinquains were in a different era. She capitalized each line--would she do that now? She used diction appropriate to her times--would she modernize now? Hers were iambic--might she have experimented more with other meters if she had lived longer? I wish she had lived longer to better define her form, and see how she might have let it evolve, and to write a full instruction manual.
Of course, this is 2005 [now 2006], and we don't have to limit ourselves to what AC did, or speculate on what she might have done. The form somewhat speaks for itself. We know that the form is syllable based, although the editors at Amaze - The Cinquain Journal also say it can be stressed based: 22 syllables arranged in five lines of 2-4-6-8-2 respectively, or eleven stressed syllables arranged in five lines of 1-2-3-4-1 respectively. Also, AC insisted that cinquains should be in iambic meter (though AC herself did not rigorously stick to iambics). I suppose consideration can be given to relief feet, but in a short poem such as the cinquain they shouldn't be needed for the usual purposes. I have experimented with a trochaic cinquain sequence.
When working with any type of form, I try to see how the words and form ought to be combined to best advantage. It seems like the features of the form ought to be able to instruct us on how the form is best used. The obvious features of the cinquain are the gradually increasing line lengths, followed by a sudden decrease. But, the increasing syllable/stress count should clue us in that each line should increase in weight and importance--that is until the last line. I see these alternatives for what to do with the last line:
- a conclusion, after a peak in importance in L4
- a letdown, after a peak in tension in L4
- a throwback/inference to L1
- a volta (similar as to a sonnet), or change in direction/surprise ending in L5. This might also include word play, irony, or other similar devices.
As has been stated by others [in the forum this was originally posted on], the form itself is perhaps neither inherently good nor bad. It is suitable for some subjects, and unsuitable for others. It has challenges that other forms don’t. No, it can’t achieve the melodic rhythm of a nicely crafted sonnet. Nor can it have the repeating beauty of a villanelle. But it can maximize tension between lines. It can provide a sharp twist or turn or highlight the use of irony. It can demonstrate how brevity is sometimes superior to…the alternative. It can help the poet maximize wordsmithing talents by realy thinking about how the words are used and how they fit and are enhanced by the form. It seems like it is one more form to add to the poet’s toolbox. If you don’t like it, don’t use it. I don’t like free verse, and I don’t use it. Perhaps someday I’ll grow up and add free verse to my toolbox. I do like the challenge that cinquains give, writing metrical verse that maximizes the use of line breaks and seeks to select subject, phrases, and words that fit the form—or that the form fits.
Best Regards,
NDG
Shall We Cinquain?
Any
poet can make
each line break fall per specs,
but that just makes a reader say,
"So what?"
A train such as this typically results in a large number of inferior poems as to craft, as poets don't think about what the form is telling them, how the form and the words should work together. Here is something I wrote about cinquains a year ago, when some controversy arose about cinquains and whether the form had any value.
The cinquain form is somewhat unique, in that it can be traced back to one poet: Adelaide Crapsey. She wrote these in the late 1800s and early 1900s, before she met an untimely death at 36 years of age. Therefore, her cinquains were in a different era. She capitalized each line--would she do that now? She used diction appropriate to her times--would she modernize now? Hers were iambic--might she have experimented more with other meters if she had lived longer? I wish she had lived longer to better define her form, and see how she might have let it evolve, and to write a full instruction manual.
Of course, this is 2005 [now 2006], and we don't have to limit ourselves to what AC did, or speculate on what she might have done. The form somewhat speaks for itself. We know that the form is syllable based, although the editors at Amaze - The Cinquain Journal also say it can be stressed based: 22 syllables arranged in five lines of 2-4-6-8-2 respectively, or eleven stressed syllables arranged in five lines of 1-2-3-4-1 respectively. Also, AC insisted that cinquains should be in iambic meter (though AC herself did not rigorously stick to iambics). I suppose consideration can be given to relief feet, but in a short poem such as the cinquain they shouldn't be needed for the usual purposes. I have experimented with a trochaic cinquain sequence.
When working with any type of form, I try to see how the words and form ought to be combined to best advantage. It seems like the features of the form ought to be able to instruct us on how the form is best used. The obvious features of the cinquain are the gradually increasing line lengths, followed by a sudden decrease. But, the increasing syllable/stress count should clue us in that each line should increase in weight and importance--that is until the last line. I see these alternatives for what to do with the last line:
- a conclusion, after a peak in importance in L4
- a letdown, after a peak in tension in L4
- a throwback/inference to L1
- a volta (similar as to a sonnet), or change in direction/surprise ending in L5. This might also include word play, irony, or other similar devices.
As has been stated by others [in the forum this was originally posted on], the form itself is perhaps neither inherently good nor bad. It is suitable for some subjects, and unsuitable for others. It has challenges that other forms don’t. No, it can’t achieve the melodic rhythm of a nicely crafted sonnet. Nor can it have the repeating beauty of a villanelle. But it can maximize tension between lines. It can provide a sharp twist or turn or highlight the use of irony. It can demonstrate how brevity is sometimes superior to…the alternative. It can help the poet maximize wordsmithing talents by realy thinking about how the words are used and how they fit and are enhanced by the form. It seems like it is one more form to add to the poet’s toolbox. If you don’t like it, don’t use it. I don’t like free verse, and I don’t use it. Perhaps someday I’ll grow up and add free verse to my toolbox. I do like the challenge that cinquains give, writing metrical verse that maximizes the use of line breaks and seeks to select subject, phrases, and words that fit the form—or that the form fits.
Best Regards,
NDG
