Crapsey Cinquains

The Crapsey cinquain is a 5-line, non-rhyming, accentual or accentual-syllabic form created by Adelaide Crapsey (1878–1914), inspired by haiku, and popularised by William Soutar (1898–1943). There are several definitions of different levels of strictness.

The simplest definition is that the lines have 1/2/3/4/1 stressed syllables. The next-simplest is the same, except that each line has as many unstressed syllables as stressed onces, so there are 2/4/6/8/2 syllables total. The most complex definition is that the meter must be strictly iambic or trochaic.

There are several variations, e.g. the reverse cinquain and the butterfly cinquain. The reverse cinquain's pretty obvious. For the butterfly cinquain, merge the patterns of two cinquains, one regular and the other reversed, so the syllable pattern is 2/4/6/8/2/8/6/4/2 or 2/8/6/4/2/4/6/8/2. You can also use the cinquain (and reverse cinquain) as the stanza form in a longer poem.

Notes

I've written using a mix of all the definitions except the simplest one, sometimes using both trochaic and iambic in the same poem (switching at punctuation).

As for speaking, I imagine the lines get faster as they get longer, with the longest line taking, say, only twice as long to speak as the shortest despite being four times the number of syllables. Maybe the syllables are shorter, or maybe the shorter lines have pauses. Either way, the overall effect is a slow start, then a rising pace, and finally a sharp cut or sudden slowness.

The form doesn't inherently involve rhyme, but I sometimes find myself adding rhymes, often internal.

Poems

  1. 2026-04-04
    In an undiscovered tomb

    I'm born
    Sky-deep in catacombs anon
    Where names, like faithful dogs,
    Curled up at last
    To die
    And I, the last—
    “Anonymous” my name—
    I wait for history's embrace
    In vain.
  2. 2026-04-03

    Denied
    The words they need
    To speak the storm inside,
    Young makeshift angels hide their shame—
    Their lust
    Burns through peephole stars and cheek-red
    Slashes of sky and sweat
    Not knowing why,
    But knowing.
  3. 2026-04-02

    Feeling
    Listless hum-hiss,
    The tortoise pathologic
    Winning races left–right–centre
    Olympic.
  4. 2026-01-27

    Famished,
    The rain-drunk earth
    Now sweats and salivates
    And opens up its million mouths
    And eats.
    
    Look there—
    The hilltop!
    The trees
    Disappear.

    A Crapsey cinquain with a little extra.

  5. 2026-01-21

    Storm reigns
    Throughout the land—
    That savage lilac sky
    Transfixes us with wrathful eye
    All night.
  6. 2026-01-17

    Rise up!
    Through mist and mud,
    Mosquitoes out for blood
    Rise up and taste the sun and feed
    The birds.
  7. 2026-01-17

    Red-hot
    Horizon slime
    All seeping through the clouds—
    Amoeba furnace burning bright
    Tonight.
  8. 2025-12-31

    The year's
    Midwinter sky
    Sloughs its rags of cloud,
    And in its last colossal breaths,
    Gives birth.
  9. 2025-12-31

    Precious
    Museum-piece,
    A puddle locked up tight
    In panes of ice, while docent sylphs
    Tell lies.
  10. 2025-12-13
    Dead Languages Their Games

    The ghosts
    That live in names—
    Dead languages their games—
    Spread gossip in the tongue of flames
    And wait
    Calendrical millennia
    Until some other fish
    Crawl from the mud
    And speak.

    A bit of a connection to a blank verse couplet I wrote a while back. I also thought about ending this “Until some other race / Crawls from the mud / To speak”, and it started very differently when I first started writing it: “Twelve beasts / That once had names— / Dead languages and games—”.

  11. 2025-12-08

    Lost
    In the library,
    The claustrophilic cat
    Contorts themself between the spines
    And waits
    Till lantern-head librarians
    With atlas catalogues
    Reorder the world
    In ink.
  12. 2025-11-28

    The hole
    Beneath the Earth
    Knows nothing of the hands
    That work the knife, that vivisect
    Our world,
    But our chewed-up gristle-Gods know
    When people pray to nothing,
    Nothing answers
    —

    I broke off the last bit to create a very short epigram.

  13. 2025-11-25

    Each house
    The last high monument to pain—
    Each son an epitaph,
    Father's chisel
    In hand.
  14. 2025-11-24

    We hang
    Our coats of rain
    And wander through the rooms,
    But storm holds court throughout our house
    Of tombs.

    More on the same theme as a haiku from the same day.

  15. 2025-11-21

    In fear,
    The sun retreats
    Withdrawing all its gifts—
    Our golden clouds transmute to leaden
    Rain.
  16. 2025-11-15

    Our sky,
    So tired of life,
    Now gathers dusty stars
    And turns a darker shade of black
    And falls.
  17. 2025-11-05

    Standing
    Eye to eyeless,
    Only anxious angstroms
    Separate the desperado
    From Death
    Whose angel fingers coax a croak
    Of cold, serene contempt
    Before the crook
    Drops dead.

    Some wording shared with a crooked quad from the same day.

  18. 2025-11-04

    But God
    Delays the end,
    And stays its teasing hand
    Before the holiest of holy
    Orgies—
    Maybe fear of disappointment?
    The waxy stars won't burn,
    Our hands won't grasp
    Its flesh.
  19. 2025-11-01

    Haloes
    Dull and lifeless,
    Angels shrieking paeans
    Block the light on European
    Pogroms.

    Similar subject to a crooked quad I wrote the same day.

  20. 2025-10-28
    Delinquent Rain

    Tonight
    Delinquent rain
    Falls up into the sky
    Defiant, drop by drop, until
    We die.
  21. 2025-10-27

    A cry—
    Prepare the noose
    To hang the prince of grief
    By order of the yellow king,
    A thief
    Whose upturned words are absolute
    And court delights all seem,
    Beneath the masks,
    All spite.
  22. 2025-10-25
    Gambling on the Bandwagon to Nowhere

    With whip
    And cap in hand,
    The barker–banker leers:
    “Your doubled nothing gleams like gold,
    You'll see!”
    
    Listen:
    The screams inside the big-top vault
    Aren't born from childish glee—
    Their clowns wear angel
    Skins.
  23. 2025-10-24

    Tonight,
    The wick that drinks the wine ignites—
    Your tender citadels
    Of strange delights
    Explode.

    I also thought about “harsh delights” instead of “strange delights”, since it contrasts better with “tender citadels”. Still not sure on this one.

  24. 2025-10-23

    Don't delve
    The typewriters' ossuary
    Without an offering
    Or else they'll take
    Your teeth.
  25. 2025-10-23

    Against
    The bloody sun,
    A bannered plague of saints
    Advances on the ziggurats
    And preys.
  26. 2025-10-22

    Muses
    Clasp corpse-fast
    The pen Promethean
    Whose inks write over rot in living
    Blues.
  27. 2025-10-19

    Let's trace
    The scrimshawed bones
    Of better memories—
    We'll try to build a better world,
    Won't we?
  28. 2025-10-17
    Devo(ra)tion as a moral right

    Too deep
    Inside the game,
    The anglerfish's lure
    Alights with rage and blames its prey
    For its fame
    And all the darkness, fat with eyes,
    That light can't drive away—
    But was this not
    Your aim?
  29. 2025-10-16
    Megastructure Fucks (B)

    In a haze
    Of cosmic dust
    And macroscopic lust
    The megastructure fucks itself
    Through us.

    Similar subject to another Crapsey cinquain I wrote the same day, but with the opposite sentiment.

  30. 2025-10-16
    Megastructure Fucks (A)

    In a haze
    Of concrete dust
    And mechanistic lust
    The megastructure fucks itself
    To death.

    Similar subject to another Crapsey cinquain I wrote the same day, but with the opposite sentiment.

  31. 2025-10-15

    I crew
    The listening post
    For the local lightning farm,
    So let me tell you something strange:
    God's wife
    Has lately done the work of Man
    And killed Him in His sleep—
    The Devil weeps
    Forked tears.

    Thematically kinda related to a previous Crapsey cinquain, I guess?

  32. 2025-10-10

    They drink
    Effluvium from butchers' shops
    And belch the facts of life
    In column inches—
    Old tripe.
  33. 2025-10-05

    Time rusts,
    And skeletons shall walk the earth
    In great unnumbered mass
    And cry for death
    To die.
  34. 2025-09-29
    Windswept Glory

    From far
    The wind carouses night by night
    Through border fortresses
    And distant wars
    Echo,
    And private wars
    In hollow officers
    Are lost in silent cannonades
    Of time.

    After The Tartar Steppe/The Stronghold by Dino Buzzati.

  35. 2025-09-28

    Ignored
    Beneath the courts,
    New moralist grotesques
    And cops recast as bureaucrats
    Rejoice!
    Through amniotic sewerworks
    Their headless king of cons,
    Leviathan,
    Gives birth.
  36. 2025-09-27

    Young tree,
    Your “ageless” trunk
    Was never yours, you know—
    Old Moss and Fungus now reclaim
    The weight
    Of all our black and humid gifts
    That let you stretch your crown,
    Your Heaven wide
    And white.
  37. 2025-09-24
    The Rapture Demon

    Behold!
    The Rapture Demon climbed from Hell,
    And all of Christendom
    That slurs and whines
    Looks swell.
  38. 2025-09-24

    The cat
    Plays hide-and-seek
    But vanishes in sleep;
    A little grief still waits for you
    Upstairs.
  39. 2025-09-22

    The Law:
    A million roads
    Encircle and enshrine
    The Wandering Jew, whose path divines
    God's Truth.

    A kinda Borgesian premise.

  40. 2025-09-22

    Our Earth,
    All planetary golf-course greens—
    The players richly hate
    Our sandtrap towns
    Between.
  41. 2025-09-21

    Babble
    Fills the airwaves,
    Reaching up and bouncing
    Round the ancient tower's space
    Debris.
  42. 2025-09-20
    Last Corpse Alive Turns Out the Lights

    I watch
    Leviathan crawl on fungal legs,
    Lapping up the decay
    Of the soil sea
    Beneath me,
    Then haul up its dreadful weight
    And release its myriad young
    To the space between
    The stars.

    A kind of asymmetric butterfly cinquain. Adding to the roughness, it's accentual rather than accentual–syllabic. Anyway, I'm not sure whether this is about the total annihilation of humankind or a newly-immortal transhuman or posthuman exodus.

  43. 2025-09-13

    Havoc!
    Our turpentine
    Cloudprows breach the skywall
    And bombard Kinkade's fortresses
    With Dark.

    Started from the same place as an oddquain I wrote the same day.

  44. 2025-09-05

    Dull husks
    Of summer suns,
    Drained by old nostalgia,
    Hang tangled in the autumn haze,
    Dead dusks.
  45. 2025-08-28

    Pawprints
    Twinkle coyly
    In the dawn-damp garden,
    Laugh at all the constellations,
    And die.
  46. 2025-08-25
    Hear this!

    Hear this!
    The master, War,
    Draws near the City Free
    Where no-one can agree our right
    To fight!

    Based off the 1937 radio play The Fall of the City.

  47. 2025-08-25
    Crooked Light-Years

    He walks
    A crooked mile,
    But look beyond the twist—
    His crooked light-years plot an arc
    Sublime.
  48. 2025-08-13

    Avert
    your eyes, Sweat fire—
    All groped by hands of heat
    Beneath the cataracted sun
    of Man.
  49. 2025-07-17

    Omens
    Crowd the newborn,
    Fistfight for the right to
    crown her doom her or consume her:
    Last birth.
  50. 2025-06-30

    Feeling
    Coarse and caustic,
    Making myths and systems
    Out of broken glass and boiling
    Acid.
  51. 2025-06-08

    Soon tired
    Of rainbow neon Soho clubs,
    The in-crowd paints the town
    In bootshine black
    Attacks.
  52. 2025-06-06

    Feeling
    Warp-and-weftish,
    Weaving steel-wire cages
    For a future where I'm free from
    Freedom.
  53. 2025-06-02
    The 51st State of Mind

    Five feet
    Of spotless steel—
    This hood will wear the head
    Of any passerby who dares defy
    The truck
    (Whose windows never face the wind,
    Whose mudflaps don't know mud,
    Whose suburbs dress
    In white).
  54. 2025-06-01
    Sound-Booth Romance

    Amp up
    Sound-booth romance,
    A foley fantasy
    Where lovers' murmurs sleep in
    Drawers.
  55. 2025-05-28

    Feeling
    Free and loose-leaf,
    Risographic layers
    Slowly making sense together—
    In you.
  56. 2025-05-22
    London Over the Horizon

    Tonight,
    The dismal blaze
    Of cottoned sodium—
    Our cheapskate Götterdämmerung—
    Repeats.
  57. 2025-05-16

    Feeling
    Stricken benthic,
    Peering up at lightships
    Latching on to angels' anchors
    In hope.
  58. 2025-05-15
    Etaoin Shrdlu

    The shade
    Etaoin sighs,
    His tongue of lead too soft
    To move cold Pluto's iron soul
    To tears.
    
    “To tears!”
    This psychopomp of ignorance
    And poisoner of wells
    Was one more pawn
    For toil.
  59. 2025-05-13
    Jerusalem Revisited

    “Halal”
    And “ninja swords”
    And “voodoo medicine”—
    Let's keep such violence out of
    England,
    Where we wash bloodstains out with blood,
    We waitlist you from life,
    We masturbate
    To death.
  60. 2025-05-09

    Feeling
    Thrum and vesper,
    Chafe against my tether
    To a world of midday paper
    Lifetimes.
  61. 2025-05-05

    Surfing
    In the backwash
    Of Devourer Europe;
    Please ignore the bodies, they are
    							normal.
  62. 2025-04-30
    We turn a profit on every house built Wrong

    It wails
    Beneath the roof—
    Suburban demonhosts
    Have caught the spirit of the air
    For cheap.
  63. 2025-04-30

    The nerves
    An orchestra,
    Its players out of tune,
    Yet in their millions, harmonies
    Of you.
  64. 2025-04-30

    I work
    The starlight shift
    At Cadaveryard Five—
    They brought in the body of God
    And prayed.
  65. 2025-04-25

    A chair
    Alone amid
    The trees its roots once knew,
    To boast of all the rich behinds
    It seats.
  66. 2025-04-24
    The Stage, a World

    Enter.
    
    Spit on a fate
    Of playing chorus roles
    In someone else's one-man show,
    Or worse,
    In Act Three of a one-act play,
    The audience all gone.
    
    Exit, pursued
    by fear.
  67. 2025-04-24

    Feeling
    Far and yardang,
    Waiting for the winnow;
    Blow my dust away to cosmic
    Beaches.
  68. 2025-04-22

    Nettle
    Seeking dock leaf
    For a dirty threesome
    Of ankle sadomasochism
    —Call me
  69. 2025-04-22

    Listen:
    The cold and dark
    Prepare their rusty knives
    For when the universe again
    Makes sense.
  70. 2025-04-22

    I saw
    Their body was
    A sacred palimpsest
    Of bad ideas, faith in every
    Saviour.
  71. 2025-04-22

    Fingers
    With angels' grace
    Attach to torturers'
    Throats and sweetly coax a porcelain
    Stillness.
  72. 2025-04-22

    A gift
    From you to me you
    But through my weary hands—
    To drudge for your contentment is
    No gift.
  73. 2025-04-20

    Hush dear,
    A tree just fell,
    Collapsing every clade
    Into the singularity
    Where we,
    Mother Moss and Father Fungus,
    Weave a fleshy cosmos
    Yet no lesser
    Than yours.

    At first I wrote “Gently / Moss and lichen / Nurse the fallen timber / Once so regal, never more to / See stars”, but that just felt weak.

  74. 2025-04-19

    Click–flash!
    The crowd agape,
    Who stomach any pain;
    The boxers' kiss will break this egg
    And fly.
  75. 2025-04-18

    Unmet
    At crossroads foul,
    The waiting devil sweats—
    And later he donates the Blues
    To toads.
  76. 2025-04-18

    Emit:
    The furnace breathes
    One living smoke and flame—
    A dryad born, the soot and slag
    Her name.
  77. 2025-04-12

    Old man,
    Does this thin road,
    This crooked path of stones,
    This feeble furrow in the grass,
    Lead home?

    Inspired by various short stories by Dino Buzzati.

  78. 2025-04-10

    They shot
    The preacher's son
    For treason to his race—
    At least, that's what the papers said
    In choir.
  79. 2025-04-10

    Feeling
    Vast and seaglass,
    Never knowing whether
    This is it, the chip, the shatter—
    Green stars.
  80. 2025-04-08

    Pebble
    Beaches freckled
    With a world's detritus—
    Can you see the world within a
    Pebble?
  81. 2025-04-07
    Noctilucent

    Look up:
    The fishbone clouds
    Still catch the light of day
    From half the sleeping world away
    And swim.
  82. 2025-03-14
    You won't learn anything new

    Good Lord,
    Please save me from
    These lurid fever-dreams
    Of broken empire bubbled up
    From Hell.
    
    And yet,
    Who doesn't like to see James Bond
    Outwit a burly goon
    In paradise
    Tropic?