Whittled Words – Terzanelle Poem
Welcome to the weekly series, Whittled Words. A series highlighting the innumerable types and styles of poetry to challenge any creative wordsmith. This week’s selection:
TERZANELLE POEM
What do you get when you mix two super popular Italian poetic forms, specifically the terza rima and villanelle? The terzanelle, of course!
It combines the lyricism of the terza rima with the repetition of the villanelle to make a powerful one-two punch in only 19 lines. The traditional stance on the terzanelle is that the lines should be written in a consistent iambic meter (as shown in my example), but there are plenty of contemporary terzanelles that just aspire to keep the lines a consistent length throughout.
Here’s the rhyme and refrain order for the Terzanelle:
A1
B
A2
b
C
B
c
D
C
d
E
D
e
F
E
f
A1
F
A2
Examples of Terzanelle Poems:
GOING HOME
by Cynthia Page
Going home is hard for me and it seems
while away I found new dreams. I grew strong.
I’ve traveled new roads, waded other streams
that pulled me further away. Carried along
through the tides of change, I learned new things
while I found new dreams. I grew strong.
Facing my past, I discover old strings
pulling me back, Tied together by the past
through the tides of change. I’ve learned new things
about them now. Yesterday does not last.
Memories are deceptive. Changes daunt me,
pulling me back. Tied together by the past,
these strangers with well-known faces haunt me.
The years have changed me more than I knew.
Memories are deceptive. Changes daunt me,
but this is family, my first home, so I rue
going home is hard for me and it seems
the years have changed me more than I knew.
I’ve traveled new roads, waded other streams.
MAGIC ENERGY
By Taylor Graham
At daybreak, just see how her eyes burn bright.
This earth-dark, sable puppy, puckish-gay
by cell-phone photo taken at first light –
“magic energy” in dog-form, you’d say.
I say she’s wild as water, hard to hold.
This earth-dark, sable puppy puckish-gay,
quicksilver. She whirls through a dawning cold;
next she’s scouting wind for coyote scent.
I say she’s wild as water, hard to hold
by leash or theory. What was it I meant
to teach her? The far ridges call her now,
next she’s scouting wind for coyote scent,
she startles birds from a low hanging bough;
a rise of wings, wanderlust song of birds
to teach her the far ridges. Call her now,
try to catch her with a rope of flung words
or cell-phone photo taken at first light.
A rise of wings, wanderlust song of birds
at daybreak. Just see how her eyes burn bright.
THE EMBRACE OF PAIN
By Brad Osborne
The flesh is torn from weary bone
And there is beauty in that pain
A beauty rarely shared or known
And when our lives be put to strain
We hold to that which we abhor
And there is beauty in that pain
For what the future has in store
We cannot know or ready see
We hold to that which we abhor
And in that ache and pain steady
There lies some hope of what may come
We cannot know or ready see
And if good grace would offer some
A light to guide our wandering way
There lies some hope of what may come
Before the pain leads to decay
The flesh is torn from weary bone
A light to guide our wandering way
A beauty rarely shared or known
I hope you have enjoyed this entry to the series, Whittled Words. I look forward to your comments, and if you dare, maybe share your own Terzanelle poem. Thanks for reading!
beautiful form and your poem is so sad
Thanks Beth!
Thoroughly enjoyed it Brad, a very nice and musical form!
Thank you brother!
You’re very welcome!
beautiful poem, Brad. I like the rhyming, repetitive nature of this style of poem.
Thank you, Jim!