NaPoWriMo / NaPoREADMo — Day 17 — Winter Madness, a cinquain sonnet

(A bit late...more on the cinquain sonnet here)




Winter Madness

Under 
the streetlights, the 
blocks go on forever 
beneath the leaden sky.  In this
city,

streets seem 
somehow longer,
straighter in the winter 
night, lonelier than the steam from 
sewers.

Madness 
belongs to the 
night, to the filling of 
empty lanes with the walls of words.












Tympanum, a cinquain sonnet

Sharp sounds 
impact only 
the thin skin of this drum, 
this timpanum, and then bounce like 
mallets,

making 
music of this 
cave, plucking the threads of 
this skein.  They will have no other 
impact. 

In this chamber, their soft timbres,
their reverberations 
and distortions  
are breath.

Winter Madness, a cinquain sonnet






Under 
the streetlights, the 
blocks go on forever 
beneath the leaden sky.  In this
city,

streets seem 
somehow longer,
straighter in the winter 
night, lonelier than the steam from 
sewers.

Madness 
belongs to the 
night, to the filling of 
empty lanes with the walls of words.








...I've done a few haiku sonnets, so I figured...why not...

...puttin' the Po in NaPoWriMo...