.
Mother’s TV
It numbs regret
But, better yet,
Helps her forget,
Lest devils spawn.
It quells each thought
Of folly’s rot
Lost, sold, or bought,
From dawn till dawn.
Time Confounder,
Siren Sounder,
Demon Drowner …
Is always on.
.
.
Amber of the Evening
Amber of the evening meekly
Creeping up the stairs,
Slinks into the room discreetly.
Amber of the evening meekly
Settles on the chamber’s seemly
Tenant unaware.
Amber of the evening meekly
Creeping up the stairs.
.
.
James Kirkpatrick is a writer and poet living in Texas.
That 2nd poem really calls to mind T.S. Eliot’s bit about the fog in “Prufrock.” Very evocative!
Thank you, Jeremiah!
Both poems were adept examples of short forms. “Amber…” I take as a triolet with uneven lines in terms of feet, but I cannot recall ever having read one in trochaic (with some lines catalectic) meter. Delectable, each one!
Thank you, C.B. (And now I’ll pretend like none of those things happened by accident.)
I think you were in complete control all the while, James, and were merely unaware of the terms that applied to what you did, as it were, instinctively.
I really like “Mother’s T.V.” — it says so much in its thoughtful few lines, and the interesting rhyme scheme holds it together well.
Thank you, Cynthia. I was actually introduced to rhupunts here; and I like them. I enjoy having to be brief and conform to the fixed rhyme scheme you mention.
James, “Mother’s TV” is so fitting for those who keep their tv on all night. I call it my nightlight!
I don’t know how you do it. Although I have to say, almost every time without fail, five minutes into Forensic Files and I’m comatose. It must be the narrator’s soothing voice! Surely it’s not the lurid subject matter.
These are both great, James. The rhupunt form works well for the subject matter of “Mother’s TV” – the rolling, repeated rhymes help convey something of the mind-numbing quality of endless programming in an enjoyable and playful manner.
Thank you, Shaun. I’m glad you see playfulness, too; without it, analytical and critical, not to mention presumptious, is a bad look!
James, both of these are splendid uses of special forms. As a longtime reader and student of the triolet, I have to say “Amber” is a superb and unique example. Even in the earliest French triolets, there is creative variation in line length, but you have 8 syllables for the /a/ lines and 5 syllables for the /b/ lines, which is extreme. In English analysis that works out to tetrameter versus trimeter, a pattern not hard to find, but I don’t have an 8/5 in my collection, so I plan to file your piece. It is not only an exciting form, but a beautiful atmospheric story in so few words, with so many required repetitions. You make good use of imperfect rhymes to craft a tale.
Trochaic triolets are not rare, but they usually come in poems with /a/ and /b/ lines of equal length. Seven-syllable lines are common in French triolets, and trochees are a good means of translating these into English. Here’s my translation of one by Eustache Deschamps (1346-1406):
Come salute my jubilee!
I have passed my fiftieth.
Good times now are quick to flee,
Come salute my jubilee.
You may not remember me,
Worse for wear and out of breath;
Come salute my jubilee–
I have passed my fiftieth!
And here’s an original one in English by Rosamund Marriott Watson (1860-1911), who published as Graham R. Tomson:
Love hath wept till he is blind:
Lovers, guide him on his way;
Though he be of fickle mind,
Love hath wept till he is blind.
Once ye knew him fair and kind;
Now, alas and well-a-day!
Love hath wept till he is blind:
Lovers, guide him on his way.
I’m glad you like the challenge of limited space and repetitions. I prefer more words (as this extended comment shows), but I love seeing masterpieces in careful form, like the two here.
Thank you, Margaret, for your thorough analysis of my triolet, and for those two great examples of trochaic triolets that you provided (what beauties!). Also, I’m honored to be included in your collection.
Sometimes, I wish I had your stated propensity for more words; it might make longer forms come more naturally. Years ago I developed an inclination toward leaner lines, mainly because of two things: 1.) the modern attention span, ever shortening, and 2.) people’s tendency to interrupt.
My solution: get in as much content as you can, with the fewest words, before you get steamrolled or tuned out.
The problem, of course, as you know, is that as soon as you start exercising one group of muscles, the neglected ones start to atrophy. (Kind of an indictment of my own attention span, come to think of it.)
James, both poems are bold and beautiful in their brevity. The triolet is one of my favorite forms and I love the atmosphere ‘Amber of the Evening’ conjures… it has an eerie beauty about it. Wonderful!
Thank you very much, Susan. I’m glad you see that in these poems, since that’s what I was going for.
Happy New Year to you and yours.