adventures in dysthymia

Wednesday, August 11, 2004


Tonight holds the promise of storm; electric incense burns the breeze.

What voices murmur, basso, beyond the distant footlights of my horizon?

It is an old song, this tune that flickers in overture to the tempest.

Stephen Brooke ©2004

I do not consider this a 'true' sijo though it is in somewhat the form of one. The tone is not right, the 'twist' is not really there at the beginning of the third line. The lines do not flow properly either and could be divided as easily (or more easily) into three parts as into two. I worked on this idea most of the past week and finally decided it might be best in this format -- without at least some of the concept of a sijo as my pattern, I could find no direction for the poem.

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