Next, I scribble an old-fashioned octavilla
of two redondillas, using the familiar
rhyme pattern
a b b a a c c a.
Poetry keeps flooding my mind. |
a |
Soon I try long octavillas |
b |
of two attached redondillas |
b |
with rhymes that can be hard to find. |
a |
Once all the words have been entwined |
a |
I see the pleasure of knowing |
c |
that a poem can change, growing |
c |
beyond old forms with counted lines. |
a |