Casablanca Revisited

So, of all the lousy gin joints

everything points

to that damn song!

It’s just so wrong

that she should leave. Play that song Sam,

and I will jam

your damn fingers!

The pain lingers

long. Paris has no appeal

and the real

sin would be this:

Kiss? Still a kiss!


**

Directed by "Quickly's Winter Doldrums" - Jan. 26, 2016

Three-Day Midweek

Have we done any forms lately? No matter. We’ll do one now.

Minute Poem

We’ve done this one before, but since then I’ve met up with a variation, so you get two for the price of one.
Here’s the version offered by Robert Lee Brewer:

Some forms have a long, exotic history. Some forms are relatively new, but have a well-known founder. Others just seem to spring out of nowhere. Such appears to be the case with our most recent poetic form: the minute poem.

The rules are rather simple:
3 quatrains (or 4-line stanzas)
8 syllables in the first line of each stanza
4 syllables in the remaining lines of each stanza
rhyme scheme: aabb/ccdd/eeff
written in strict iambic meter

So each stanza contains 20 syllables times 3 stanzas equals 60 syllables total. Since there are 60 seconds in a minute, I’m going to go out on a limb and proclaim that’s the origin of the name minute poem.

:::::

And the one from Jeff Hardin:

The form is three stanzas with each stanza using the following syllable count:

8
4
4
4

(That is, essentially the same, but NO need for rhyme, and no specific meter.)

I like the unrhymed Minute, myself, but the choice is yours.
OR
Hey, you’ve got three days. Go wild and do both.