Decastich
According to Turco's "Book of Forms", the Decastich is any whole poem of ten lines. There is no
reference to meter or rhyme pattern and it is thought that because of its flexibility it has been
the subject of so much experimentation with poetic ideas.
As was discussed in the main site it has been decided to label any ten line poem that does not match
any of the Sonnetina or Tritina poetry requirements a Decastitch, and this could also include pattern
poetry.
Here is a wonderfull example of the Decastich:
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The Latest in Ooh La La
Oh, golden lady you sit so lovely
draped in a loose robe, swathed in the copper
like light of the western sun, and I can
almost smell the fragrance of the perfume
this glossy magazine is purporting
as being a sure fire way to attract
the handsome fellow on the opposite
page as he is drinking his ever so
smooth brandy, looking into the distance
as if it holds an image of angels.
Carly Svamvour
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Kathy Anderson
Higher Dimension
Of the eros that we feel
Of the love found at the falls
Feel released into an inner dimension
Fallen from the clouds rains of despair
For want of higher being
For need of soft satin on skin
Of just another long moment of touch
Feelings to add to those already had
For the sake of beauty in higher regard
A higher dimension to the stolen silk of passions.
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Lori Martin
Adrift
opposing shores promise
cornucopian futures
adrift with half an oar to steer
cast between two choices
still waters, vacant skies
offer no navigational hints
parched dreams thirst
for resolution, a beginning
blinded by possibility’s vastness
star guide closes her eyes.
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Gaia's Fury
Forests felled for progress
Oceans and skies choked with its effluence
Can no one hear Gaia’s enraged screams
in the winds of the Cat 4 hurricane?
Or see her anger scratched into drought-cracked soil?
We sleep while her tears flood the valleys,
her oceans heave, the earth quakes
and her fury erupts in blistering flames.
Ecologically illiterate, we ignore her signs
as we serenely stroll towards our reckoning.
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Six AM
Burrowed beneath rumpled bedclothes,
alarm chirps merry six;
Eyes squeezed shut against daily tears of dread,
hand reaches out and thumps intruder of dreams:
fresh snow sparkles blue
Technicolor sun pulses joy
lovers frolic - alive happy free.
Silently begging for ten minutes more (PLEASE);
Failure to recapture springs tears free.
As I stumble to the toilet, I wonder why I am.
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Ryter Roethicle
Fruitless
Words fly by me like night and day
Fleeting thoughts that are ungraspable
Circling like irritating buzzing bugs
That are sent to annoy not stimulate.
I change to a more conducive music
And pour a drink of rich red wine.
My mind still whirrs with thought
But my body is much more relaxed
My fingers still stay still at the keys
But after another wine, who cares.
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Irresistible You
I am pulled towards you and your fire,
Not like a moth attracted by your light
That dances dangerously near the flame,
But as a weary traveller seeing a campfire
On a dark and bitter cold autumn eve.
The glow of your soul guides me to you
Because there is no other light to follow.
The glow of your eyes and warmth of your love
Protects me from the cruellest of winds
And ever love will be a shelter to build on.
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My Butterfly
One time today I captured your smile
For a short time I held it close to my heart
Felt its warmth spread slowly through me.
I now know the source of the light in your eyes
And saw the hint of a smile light up your face.
On the breath of that look, I saw a promise
I must carefully tend its fragile beauty
And nurture the future that’s possible there
But I realised the way things had to be
I then un-cupped my hands and set you free.
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Spirit
I close my eyes...
Dreaming, wishing, desiring...
Till your scent reaches out
Grabbing, holding me
Oh sweet loving spirit
Come to me, twirl about me
Show me your amazing colours
You burn and tantalize me
Come, dance in my mind
And there I will join you.
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Unguarded
See how the moon outlines your body
I envy the dark searching shadows
For being a part of you more than me
The shades emphasising what is you
The darkness in more secret places.
Unguarded from the moon till now
There is still your fragrance, your scent
Which darkness or light cannot hide
Another sense make me more aware
With eyes that are closed I desire you.
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Unguarded moments
Unguarded moments take me back
To other days perhaps only as happy
As today or even perhaps tomorrow.
In unguarded moments I lose control
Desiring what I can only hope to be
With heady days and loving nights.
In unguarded moments I smile again
And see you stood before me smiling
Arms outstretched and welcoming me
To what can only be a time of bliss.
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Lorainne Stark
Beauty in Silence
If I were stranded on an island’s shore
Without one sign of civilization
I wouldn’t be happy but I’d survive
Intact like me paper, pens strewned in sand
Must be a reason they and I made it
I’m surrounded by beauty and silence
Obviously no one’s here to listen
I purge what’s within and let it escape
Write everything I’ve kept filed in my heart
Wrap it in palm leaves to you with the tide
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Desire
The table was full of dirty dishes
Suddenly this irresistible urge
To make love right now this very minute
Took over all my senses my being
Aggressively I undressed this stranger
Our bodies filled with incredible lust
After wards I felt very satisfied
Until I noticed the spaghetti pot
Reality like a permanent stain
For a moment I'd escaped in pleasure.
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Luminaries
Last night they arrived right on time
Without publicity without one cue
Tiny lights seemed to dance between trees
It made me smile, it made me remember
When I was young and filled mason jars full
Trying to run faster than ever
To be the first to capture summer's gift
No choreography set to music
Could equal this unwritten script
Free to those who care to watch fireflies.
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Need
If I ever wandered away
Would you count the minutes, hours
Pray for my return with each tear
Promise me everything will change
No more secrets,no more riddles
Pure love is all that I request
I need to know this before I return
For I did not know how to come home
Till the hurt was buried in the past
Then I listened to my heart lead the way.
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Quietmisanthrope
Pieces
If the pieces stopped fitting into place,
I would have never come home to find you.
But, without rust or even a slight sound,
Again moving as one against what proved
To be a sidestep in the darkened streets
That we had once run through on floating feet.
We have come to owe each other nothing,
Even though we're as useful separate
As we are powerless to stop what brings
This: our painful, beautiful, perfect fit.
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