Eintou

It’s the first fiction Friday of the month, which means time for some poetry!

Today I’m sharing one of the forms I explored ten years ago on a different blog. And I’m starting with this one is because it was last month’s “poemwork” for my poetry group, so I wrote three new poems to add to the two I had from before. I won’t always have a new form to share, but I’m hoping to at least have new examples of it.

The Eintou is an African American poetry form consisting seven lines with a total of 32 syllables - 2 words/syllables the first line, 4 the second, 6 the third, 8 the fourth, 6 the fifth, 4 the sixth, and 2 the seventh. The term Eintou is West African for "pearl" as in pearls of wisdom, and often the Eintou imparts these pearls in heightened language.

The Eintou developed as a means for African American poetic forms to take their place in the forefront of American poetry. Many African American poetic scholars and critics often attempt to mimic Euro-American forms as a means of demonstrating poetic expertise, or stand by "free-verse" as an African American form. It was rare to see serious examination of African American poetic forms; in fact most critics regarded African American poetry as "formless" or "mimicking."

The 2-4-6-8-6-4-2 structure of the Eintou is crucial in terms of African and African American philosophy. Life is a cycle. Everything returns to that from which it originates. The concept of a pearl, which is a sphere, and the cyclic nature of the Eintou's structure capture this. The life of the Eintou begins with two syllables or words, expands as though growing and then returns to two syllables or words. In this fashion the Eintou never escapes its beginnings or history. It flows from, through, and ultimately returns to that from which it came.

Structure:

Line 1 - 2 syllables
Line 2 - 4 syllables
Line 3 - 6 syllables
Line 4 - 8 syllables
Line 5 - 6 syllables
Line 6 - 4 syllables
Line 7 - 2 syllables

And now for my examples. The first two were the ones I wrote for the original post, and the last three are the ones I wrote last week.

I wish
upon a star
like the cricket advised
Pinocchio, Geppetto’s son.
But life’s no fairy tale,
my wishes don’t
come true.

The words
escape from me,
spilling onto the page
where they find a life of their own
leaving me far behind,
stumbling to
catch up.

Sunset –
a blaze of gold
on the far horizon,
red sun sinking below the waves,
moon rising as night falls
starting a new
cycle.

Soft light
diffused by leaves,
summer sun dazzles me –
crazy, hazy days upon us
for too short a season.
Enjoy before
it’s gone.

Solstice
is upon us.
Strawberry Moon rises . . .
they appear under its clear light,
faeries, come gather to
drink down the moon
and dance.