Death – A Dizain
tasted death like a sweet buttery milk
fought for dear life like a honey dew drip
caressed smoothly like a thin fabric silk
touched carefully in a slow motion dip
oh, Mr. death why have been knocking
my front door all in smiles without notice
i beg you to run without much longing
‘cos i’m not ready, no kidding, no dice.
For David’s Weekly Prompt (beating the deadline)
Val’s prompt guidelines
• Write a Dizain poemfrom the perspective of somebody who has synesthesia.
• Two accepted forms:
• Eight lines: Rhyming a/b/a/b/c/d/c/d, or:
• Ten Lines: Rhyming a/b/a/b/b/c/c/d/c/d
• Syllabic: 8 or 10 syllables in each line (each line being of the same length).
Synesthesia is when the stimulation of one sense leads to involuntary experiences in a second sense. This is often manifested as letters or words having color, colors having flavors, smells having a sound or sounds having a taste, etc.