From experience, we might say that the more structured a poetic form is—the longer it is, the more time you allot for it—the easier it is to express what you feel. That’s a theory. Then the simpler the poetic form, the more complicated it feels—the more you have to think: Does this read right? Does it seem incomplete? Is it lacking something? Will my readers understand it?
Doing shorter poetic forms puts you in this tight space, where you’re only allowed a number of words and lines, the same way metered and rhyming forms strangle your choice of words to fit the structure.
That’s exactly how I felt doing a tyburn.
Now, it isn’t as short a poetic form as a haiku, but it still was difficult for me to do. Perhaps it is because I’m unfamiliar with it. Maybe it’s the unappealing structure. I don’t know. Anyway, a tyburn is a sestet that follows a strict 2/2/2/2/9/9 meter, such that the first 4 lines are adjectives that rhyme and reappear in the last 2 lines that also rhyme.
Wandering to Reach an Accord
The things I do—wand’ring, climbing toward;
Limping, crawling—to reach an accord.