Udit Bhatia invented cascade poetry in 2007. This relatively new style of poetry got its name because it should flow down the page in a waterfall effect. The poem’s structure is simple and relies on the refrain to create the cascading rhythm. The magic of these poems centers around the refrain. The unmetered poems vary in theme depending on the poet’s desire. The only rule used when writing a cascade is that all the lines in the first paragraph are repeated at the ends of every stanza that follows. I will call this cascade poem Born Without Rhythm.
Structure of a cascade poem and Born Without Rhythm
The lines are represented as ABC.
- The first line ends with line A.
- The second line ends with Line B.
- The third line ends with line C.
I had written this form of poetry before and had fun with it. I plan to start the month of March using this style. The length of the stanza can vary. There is no rule about sticking to three lines. The thing to remember is that the longer the stanza, the more complicated the poem.
Born Without Rhythm I would give anything for a little musical ability To play cool jazz like Coltrane A blues guitar like B.B. King Sing notes like Etta James Finger the piano like Mozart Sadly, I was born without any rhythm. To my soul, it is a major disability I watch people shutter in pain. Every time I try to pluck a string. I don’t even attempt to sing Because they might attempt an assassination I would give anything for a little musical ability I’ve tried many times in vain All of that practicing gets to me I could never achieve a melodious sound And people didn’t want me around Blowing on an old clarinet, I found In a trash can in a dark alleyway, trying To play cool jazz like Coltrane Next, I attempted to pluck a string My small hands tried to tune The guitar I was given with the busted front It was hard to hold for a little runt I knew I wouldn’t ever hold A blues guitar like B.B. King I scrolled through so many famous names Of women who could sing with voices like angels My biggest problem was I was never able For my stupid voice to remain on key It refused to behave itself and Sing notes like Etta James I fear I lost favor with the muse of musical art Every time my fingers touched a piano I couldn’t control the direction they decided to go They had a mind of their own And now that I’ve grown, I can never Finger the piano like Mozart I think it is more or less a given Musical ability escaped me Even though I want to break free And create a sound so unique Nobody would guess I was a musical freak. Sadly, I was born without any rhythm
Who is Molly Shea?
Molly Shea is an accomplished fictional short story writer from Indiana who writes short stories and novels about a fictional town called Tecumseh. To read more of her short stories and adventures, click here.
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