Beyond the Haiku
Five, seven, five;
equalling twenty-one syllables, three lines – not necessarily a Haiku.
Then again, adding two further lines,
doesn’t automatically make it a Tanka.
What is it with these poetry forms?
The sonorous strictures of structure?
The winnowing, whistling whisper of onomatopoeia?
The chimes of rhymes internalised in line,
coupled as a couplet particularly fine?
What is this wine without sobriety?
Or the notoriety of infamy’s variety?
And so on…