The huitain was Paul Brookes’ chosen form last week. It requires a lot of rhymes in a short space, ababbcbc and no repeats. As a standalone stanza, it has to be all there in the eight lines. Though it hasn’t been my favourite, I’ve enjoyed this square 8×8 form (eight lines of eight syllables), and getting it to make sense. I think of this aspect as a form of maths too.


This morning so blue, limpid air
crow-calling, ah-ah to the light,
a golden flood with wealth to spare,
fills up dull ditches, running bright
as galaxies that mesh the night,
while constellations, stately slow,
step toe to fiery toe, ignite
dawn-strewn dew-gems in afterglow.

Hawk hill

High upon this green hill, hawk-hung,
as mists dissolve and change their state,
fall in dew then rise feather-strung,
to hover in mid-air, I wait,
breathless, as searching eyes locate
some small furred thing, warm heart beating,
watch eternal death in the bate
of unfurled wings, life bleed, fleeting.

Published by

Jane Dougherty

I used to do lots of things I didn't much enjoy. Now I am officially a writer. It's what I always wanted to be.

19 thoughts on “Huitain”

  1. I like how this one moves and sounds in my head. I also enjoyed the rhyming pattern too and how it was written (as in the vocabulary and structure). I wish I could explain better, but I’m not a poet.😓

    1. I’m glad you like the sound of it. I enjoy poetry that is close to singing. You explain perfectly what it is that appeals. Nobody needs more than that. Thank you 🙂

      1. That’s true. With these strict forms though, I’m so concentrated on getting it to work out, I don’t notice that, as a poem, it’s no great shakes.

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