New Poetry Game-Cinquain Chain- Come on, it's easy and fun!

Confess
They do until
They’re through and I as well
Confess and tell my lies to all
Through rhyme.

Through rhyme
An act concludes,
A bawdy bum is rude,
A sonnet soars to love untold
Through prose.

Through prose
I used to speak
my mind till finding that
with rhyme I leak less sense to those
I meet.

I meet
Her in the dark
Our faces marked with care
Our hearts held to ourselves against
Despair

Despair,
Delusions of
The opposites of care
When we stay dulled and unaware
By fright.

By fright
A child's delight
At autumn's chill is piqued
As winter comes, though, every fear
Grows bleak.

Grows bleak--
The winter wilts
my will. I’ll speak, then I
will keep my opened eyes awake
and peek.

And peek
At a fairy
If you dare take a dare:
Glamor denuded reverts to
Nightmare.

Nightmare,
delightware, and
low-down uptightware have
made me start wondering what do
I care?

I care!
Damn it, I care!
About your sad affair,
About your dirty underwear.
Please share!

Please share?
The night was dark.
Without good light I was
So unaware because nothing
Was there.

Was there?
Then was there not?
The buttercup is dead,
Yet lingers on the song of sounds
Unsaid.

Unsaid
but not unthought.
What’s said in silence is
still led through words that play more than
they ought.

They ought,
These thoughts, to know
That silence is the cost,
And when love's lost, though gold, it turns
To dross.

To dross,
but still a win?
Perhaps a lovely sin?
I’m tempted now to pick the cards
again.