Poem with an explanation: Maybe it’s broken?

Checking the email
for the fourteenth time

nothing’s bold.

Maybe it’s broken?

 

This poem is about a person waiting for a message.  They are checking their email repeatedly (so far, fourteen times in one day), but have not received a message they are waiting for.  More than this, the person hasn’t received any messages (nothing’s bold – new messages are bold in their email).

The person is anxious to get this message and the fact that they haven’t received it causes them to wonder if something’s wrong.  They question if their email is broken.

The person is worried and anxious and tries to find an explanation for the situation, which actually causes them more worry.

Experimental Poetry Form: 4353

This experimental poetry form is called 4353.  It uses the number of letters in words as its basis.  The form contains one stanza.  The stanza is four lines long.  Each line of the stanza has four words.  In each line, the first word contains four letters, the second three, the third five and the fourth three.  Using the letter counts to represent the words, the form looks like this:

4 3 5 3
4 3 5 3
4 3 5 3
4 3 5 3

Here is an example poem written in the form:

Time and every bit,
does sit heavy now,
when all sighs hit,
upon the tense day.

The idea of the form is to have a short poem that looks to be based upon word count.  The letter count aspect of it, is meant to be subtle.

Experimental Poetry Form: 7-6-5

This experimental poetry form is called 7-6-5.  It has:

7 lines

6 iambic feet per line

5 spaces of indention on the even lines

The form looks as follows:

** ** ** ** ** **
     ** ** ** ** ** **
** ** ** ** ** **
     ** ** ** ** ** **
** ** ** ** ** **
     ** ** ** ** ** **
** ** ** ** ** **

The form is somewhat long, both in terms of line length (with twelve syllables per line) and in total length, and the idea is to see how this effects the expression and also how it interacts with the longer indentions.  Here is an example poem:

Medical result

Between the pain and what awaits the day moves slow,
     as eyes and heart do race and jump about the soul,
and will and thought do seek a cave where thoughts move by,
     and flame and wind and all the hail can’t fall or be.
The time will strike and clouds will flash as eyes are blind,
     and in a word the house will fall or stay as is,
and all the world that lives inside will shake and fall.