Hallelujah…it’s my 100th post!  Excuse me while I pour a celebratory glass of wine.

Now, continuing on with my self-imposed poetry challenge…

The cinquain, also known as a quintain or quintet, is a poem or stanza composed of five lines. Examples of cinquains can be found in many European languages, and the origin of the form dates back to medieval French poetry.  The most common cinquains in English follow a rhyme scheme of ababb, abaab or abccb.


It is cradled within the curve of your cheek,
nestled between your lips,
a rising vibration unable to keep
quiet, as tiny tendrils of electricity spread upward toward your hips;
so unendurable, the little death rips

open the rose, already too full —
on the verge of bursting,
a mess of pink petals strewn, ungraceful,
hungry and thirsting,
heaving and cursing.

That one syllable, whispered low
collecting volume with each thrust,
simple, primal, like a domino
it knocks over all the other words with a gust
of heat and sweat and lust.

It’s the check mate in a game of sexual chess,
the easiest thing to say
when language and thought are suppressed
in reverence to the body.
At that very moment, all you can utter is, yes.


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