What is a Diamante Poem? When a diamante poem is written it takes on the shape of a diamond.
The Structure of a Diamante Poem A diamante poem is made up of 7 lines using a set structure:
Line 1: Beginning subject Line 2: Two describing words about line 1 Line 3: Three doing words about line 1 Line 4: A short phrase about line 1, a short phrase about line 7 Line 5: Three doing words about line 7 Line 6: Two describing words about line 7 Line 7: End subject
My first try at #diamante poem is made up of 7 lines using a set Structure: 1: Beginning subject 2: Two describing words about line 1 3: Three doing words about line 1 4: A short phrase about line 1, a short phrase bout line 7 5: Three doing words about line 7 6: Two describing words about line 7 7: End subject
She boarded the bus but failed to find a seat, and she had to stand in the passageway. She stood with her back facing the driver's cabin, painfully aware of at least a dozen lustful gazes. It was hot and humid and she didn't like to cover her face. Not that it would have made much difference. It didn't matter if women were covered from head to toe or dressed in a western attire. They would be thoroughly scanned. It wouldn't stop.
One of the passengers got up, and she quickly occupied the vacant seat. The man sitting next to her had been staring at her ever since she got in. She had noticed it and she hated it, but it was a long route. She had to sit, otherwise she would get tired and the old backache would resurface. She had no choice. She put her headphones on and tried to enter a world of her own. She closed her eyes and tried to ignore and forget the gazes. "Out of sight, out of mind. " she thought, but those lascivious eyes continued to gaze at her, carnal desires dripping from them as water drips from a leaking faucet.
Would this ever stop? Commuting by bus was her own choice. Was it wrong? What if she had used her personal vehicle? Perhaps it would have made some difference. But there were numerous signals and there were regular traffic jams. So those gazes would never cease. She had to face them even in her office, a place frequented by visitors. Everyday, she would think hard about those gazes and curse herself for not being able to do anything to end the torture.
The conductor screamed out the name of her stop. She sprang to her feet and alighted from the bus. As usual, several pairs of eyes chased her. But in a few minutes, she would reach home and it would be over, at least for the day.
She rang the doorbell. Her mother-in-law opened the door. She got in, closed the door and heaved a sigh of relief.