Let me just say first that I have a fascination with form poetry. Not just metered, rhymed poetry, but the very rigid, strict forms. In writing fiction, I sometimes get overwhelmed with all the freedom I have regarding word choice, rhythm, sentence length, and structure. I've found that in those circumstances, it can be helpful to confine myself to a particular form, force myself to think inside the box for a change. So here are two of my experiments with form poetry. First, Mockingbird, a haiku, and Queen Anne's Lace, a cinquain.

A crystal clear glass,
my reflection is vast
to gaze at the world in reverse.
Collecting everyone's stares
and the blue of the air,
weaving earthy tones throughout every verse.

If vast I could be
like the encompassing sea
how fast I could swallow you whole.
Turning left and then right,
gazing up at the night,
like the black-blue depths of your soul.

With speed as the bow shoots the arrow,
striking cold in the depths of my marrow,
glass shatters like leaves on the ground.

**Okay, just a quick note! If you happen to click on this (and thank ya kindly if ya did) you'll need to scroll down on my page first and find The Three and read THAT first if you want this to make sense. Then, if you happen to read the incredibly long thing, then comment, then read this, then comment, I will be eternally grateful.

Emily

“I had it first, mommy!” 

“No, Sam, I did!” 

“You’re being bad, Bart!” 

Kiral Vyalia yawned and stretched.
Induction ceremonies are so boring, she thought. Even when your favorite brother is becoming an adult of the Vendhorian community.
She jumped as one of her little sisters, Raye, poked her in the side.
"Pay 'tention, Kiral!" she bossed. "It's important."
"It's boring, that's what it is," Kiral said, yawning.
Raye's twin, Jacy, chimed in, "You'll be going through this in a couple years, Kiral. Pay attention...there's probably something important that you'll miss."

 Jack blew out his breath slowly as he stepped out of the Black Room.

 "That could have been bad," he murmured to himself. "I've got to be more careful next time."

 Jackie was passing as he was talking to himself. "What?"

 "The prisoner escaped from the prison," Jack replied. "The Aoran was blaming me for it when I had nothing to do with it."

 "Don't say that!" Jackie hissed. "She has ears everywhere. You have to watch what you say."

 "Look, i'm one of her important assets," Jack shot back. "She can't just kill me!"

*A/N* VERY rough draft. Criticism is appreciated.

Bilfafious Dougery Mukle of Mr. Gandalf's garden is my name and I am a gnome.  Please forgive the smudges of dirt on this paper I forgot to wash my hands after battling the Snapdragons this morning.

Aw. Thanks for picking A Mysterious Jar, friends. :) ~Anna

No one ever caught Liam reading, not really. He would take a book under his arm, sit in the rocking chair in the living room, and fall asleep with it. When he woke up, he seemed to know everything about it.

This poem is dedicated to Kassady and HomeschoolGirl. I was not going to publish this on the web until I got it copyrighted as a part of my poetry collection, but I decided to make an exception with this poem. This is a thank you for always commenting on my work! This poem I wrote a while ago and it is based off of the movie Prince of Persia. It is about Dastan's and Tamina's love and destiny.