Dear George,
In trying to compose poetry I’m often drawn to traditional forms with a specific structure. That’s because I’m a high-structure guy and I need some directives in order to get started. One of my favorites is the triolet. I’ve labelled it “persnickety” here because it’s a pain in the neck to write. Short and simple but surprising difficult to figure out. Triolets originated in France in the 13th century, originally as devotional poems written by monks but later as poems which typically focused on love or nature (or sometimes humor). They’re eight lines long and rely heavily on rhyme and repetition. There are only two rhyme-endings in the poem. The first line is repeated in lines 4 and 7, and the second line is repeated in line 8. Thus the rhyme scheme is ABaAabAB, where the capital letters refer to repeated lines and the small letters a and b rhyme with A and B respectively. What makes triolets challenging is writing a poem in which the refrains are natural (vs. artificial) and where the meaning of the first line changes slightly throughout the course of the poem. I’d say I’ve accomplished the latter aim in just a couple of the poems below. Here is what I’ve come up with so far.
Love,
Dave
OLLI
I’ve gone back to school at OLLI
My thing, mostly poetry classes
To hang out with classmates jolly
I’ve gone back to school at OLLI
I pray that my efforts aren’t folly
I enjoy being part of the masses
I’ve gone back to school at OLLI
My thing, mostly poetry classes
Big Boy
We brunch at Big Boy on Sunday morn.
My favorite, the Classic, the Number One.
When we wish our lives to be less forlorn
we brunch at Big Boy on Sunday morn.
All my neighbors view Big Boy with scorn
but it brings back happy times with our son.
We brunch at Big Boy on Sunday morn.
My favorite, the Classic, the Number One.
Lost Glasses
I’ve lost my glasses once again
I’ve scoured the household everywhere
Not in the kitchen, not in the den
I’ve lost my glasses once again
The tragic fate of older men
whose brains have shrunk from wear and tear
I’ve lost my glasses once again
I’ve scoured the household everywhere
New York Times Angst
I read the New York Times each day.
Its news, so grim and dismal.
To check out Trump and moral decay,
I read the New York Times each day.
Sometimes I’ll scan the arts, ballet
But mostly I seek the abysmal.
I read the New York Times each day
Its news, so grim and dismal.
Zumba
Zumba, my tactic for battling old age
Even though I’m a raggedy dancer
I struggle all class to stay on the page
Zumba, my tactic for battling old age
It calms the soul, it softens the rage
Even Oprah said it helps prevent cancer
Zumba, my tactic for battling old age
Even though I’m a raggedy dancer
Self-Improvement
A far better husband I could be
If I brought daisies once a week
Attended the opera with uncurbed glee
A far better husband I could be
I might propose on bended knee
Then book a trip to an isle Greek
A far better husband I could be
If I brought daisies once a week
“You Need A Gun”
The cop said we should get a gun
A gun to help protect our house
To keep the burglars on the run
The cop said we should get a gun
But guns are one thing that I shun
My fear, being shot at by my spouse
The cop said we should get a gun
A gun to help protect our house
Fitbit Blues
My Fitbit is home in the drawer
This entire walk is a waste
All these steps and I’ve failed to keep score
My Fitbit is home in the drawer
My shins and my kneecaps are sore
I’m left with a bad aftertaste
My Fitbit is home in the drawer
This entire walk is a waste
Life’s Secret
The secret of life is dancing
It’s when your true self becomes free
The turning, the dipping, the prancing
The secret of life is dancing
Swing music, so alive, so entrancing
The rhythms fill one with glee
The secret of life is dancing
It’s when your true self becomes free
