Our return to the Decuain (pronounced deck•won), features a short poem made up of 10 lines.  There are 10 syllables per line, and the poem is written in iambic pentameter.  It may be written on any subject.

You may choose among 3 rhyme schemes:


ababbcbcbb, or


For a longer Decuain poem, add more stanzas (to double, triple, quadruple, etc.).




The joys we share will fill our hearts with love.
there’s nothing like the feelings they will bring.
And in our long embrace our hearts will move,
to join together tightly as we cling.
We seize this day; to bow, give thanks and sing.
The evening fast approaches come what may,
and love becomes the most important thing.
So offer in the words you have to say,
compassion that will heal life’s undoing.
Take hold of life and feel your love growing.

16 thoughts on “INFORM POET – DECUAIN

  1. Walt, your superb poem sings, especially that last line, which begins, “Take hold of life.” It occurs to me that there could be almost infinite ways to set up rhyme schemes, as long as there are no more than three rhymes, but the ten-line, ten-syllable part must be adhered to.


    The water stands in puddles where the snow
    was formerly heaped high in hoary mounds;
    how strange it seems to see the winter go
    and leave a scene where mucking mud confounds
    the land with sliding slopes and sucking sounds.
    But peepers peep again within the wood
    and deer once more proceed with leaps and bounds;
    despite the sloppiness, it’s understood
    that warmth will come again, and all is good.
    I ought to cuss this mess, but never could.


    The crack of bat and ball once more is heard
    on diamonds and in sandlots everywhere;
    once more the runners scoot from first to third
    and Texas Leaguers giggle through the air
    as they fall just beyond the shortstop’s snare.
    It’s baseball time again, and everything
    seems right: the winds are calm; the day is fair.
    Once more, as purple martins take to wing
    over the green outfield, and robins sing
    behind the bleacher boards, it’s really spring.

  3. Sitting In Your Kitchen

    We sat in kitchen of your empty house
    now silent without your laughter, your smile,
    to sort out your belongings as if brow-
    sing through a shop, having chills all the while.
    I wished to clink glasses to toast your style,
    discuss memories that we both enjoyed.
    You live in each painting, and in book piles.
    You used humor when sad times could destroy.
    In looking at possessions, I see how
    they were part of you. I’ll take care, I vow.

  4. I sometimes yearn for diff’rent, greener grass
    But know that much is out of my control
    My only choice which way my mind is cast
    For envy often leaves a gaping hole
    In no way does it satisfy my soul
    Instead I’ll choose to tend my patch with care
    Although the details change as I grow old
    In that way I’ll find joy and not despair
    O’er years a beauteous garden I’ve amassed
    Perhaps my lawn is someone greener grass

  5. This form was quite difficult. And after a couple days trying to put the thoughts into this form, I’ve managed to come up with something that I’m not completely happy with, but the brain is fried, so here it is:

    The Charade

    We should never believe the flesh outside
    No matter the glitter or adornments
    Jewelry and makeup are used to hide
    The reality of inside torments
    The truth behind the false embellishment
    So many strive to show what they should be
    As long as no one peeks inside the tent
    We’ll keep up the charade as best can be
    God forbid anyone would really see
    The true and sinful souls of you and me

  6. A Wakening

    We rake the ground beneath young elm and oak,
    a patch that hasn’t seen the light of day…
    scritch-scratching at the layers, stroke by stroke
    we push and drag brown piles of leaves away
    uncovering white grubs, wet mold, decay,
    the stuff of earthy winter rest–a sleep
    so full of silent dreams, which hidden, lay
    unrealized, because they were so deep.
    But now the magic raking words we spoke
    have woken earth, and sleep goes up in smoke!

    © Damon Dean, 2019

  7. Not to be preachy. I reached the 10 commandments in my Bible reading and I decided to try to put them into a poem. This is a decuan done in trochaic meter.
    It’s a little bumpy, but here it is:

    You shall have no other gods before Me.
    Do not make an idol out of tooled stone
    Don’t pervert Me by misusing My name.
    Sabbath Day is holy; treat it that way
    Honor father, mother, before they’re gone
    Do not murder, neither in word or deed
    Don’t commit adultery, it’s foul play
    Don’t steal, but leave their belongings alone
    Do not lie or give false testimony
    Do not covet what you do not yet own

  8. One more, tho late…

    Lyin’ Weed

    That dandelion is lyin’, don’t ya know.
    He’s really not a flower, but a weed
    despite the fact he’s beautifully yellow;
    and just beware, his head is full of seed,
    which isn’t what your perfect lawn will need.
    So if you want to have a perfect lawn,
    then take my warning to your heart and heed–
    when that bright charming yellow face is gone,
    don’t pick its fuzzy head up high and blow,
    or more of these imposters will soon grow.

    © Damon Dean, 2019

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