[David Rosenthal]

Maryann,

Several years ago I became interested in T'ang dynasty poetry. A dominant form for those poets was lushi. Lushi poems have eight lines of either five or seven characters each (uniform throughout), arranged in couplets. The even lines rhyme with each other (and sometimes the first line rhymes with those). There are specific rules about the tonal progression from character to character in each line, and the middle couplets are constructed such that the characters in each line are precise grammatical analogs, that is the lines are grammatically parallel, and often the analogous charachters in those lines have opposing, contrapuntal, or complementary meanings.

The form struck me as something between haiku and sonnet, which interested me, so I made up an English version of the form:

*eight lines, arranged in couplets
*IP or tet (a reasonable English equivalent to the character length and tonal requirements of the original form)
*even lines rhyme, and possibly one of more of the other lines as well (I like to be strict about the even lines rhyming, but leave open some possibilities for the odd lines depending on desired effects, etc.)
*the lines in each of the middle two couplets are grammatically parallel (at least as much so as sensible syntax will allow -- I try to be as strict about this as I can, because I like it and I think the parallelism in the middle couplets is a wonderful innovation of the T'ang poets, and adds a lot of texture and depth to the form)

Here was an example (that I had to delete because I am not supposed to link to my own poem in MoM) of one of mine written in this form. In this one, the rhymes on the odd lines are not a requirement of the form but a lucky accident of opportunity. Also, you can see (well, could have seen, if I didn't delete the link) a range of looseness (in the case of the second couplet) and tightness (in the case of the the third couplet) with the parallels.

I have written three or four keepers this way, and I love what the form gives me -- the concision and imagery of tanka or haiku and the "thougtiness" of a sonnet, or something like that.

Also, I wrote one poem -- which was in Raintown an issue or two ago -- with stanzas rhymed ABCCAB. I don't if anyone else did that before (it seems likely to me), but in any case, I like the sort sling-shot effect the envelope in the middle had. I hope to write others with this scheme.

David R.

[Janice D. Soderling]

I have two candidates that are rather unusual.

The quatern, where the first line descends in four quatrains S1L1 ending as S4L4.

Also the Leona Rima ), I'm indebted to Patti McCarty for informing me about this one.The rhyme scheme is a a b b b c c c b a

When I went looking I found the litany and got sidetracked last night writing one. It is not new, but was new to my pen, and isn't seen so often.

What fun, Maryann, et al. We can rejuvenate in this late winter mental stagnation.

[Janice D. Soderling]

Back again, having read the entire thread. What a gold mine.

I want also to direct attention to John Whitworth's variation on the sonnet form posted at Metrical just now. Where Did It All Go Wrong?
http://www.ablemuse.com/erato/showthread.php?t=19867

This wonderful poem is (IMO) much more interesting than an ordinary sonnet because it takes liberties with the rhyme scheme, thus avoiding the expected.

FWIW my current object for crit at Non-Met (Husband, I Said) was based on/inspired by this fantastic (IMO) pattern, though I've taken some liberties with Paul Goodman's original. I don't know if it has a name or not. Does any reader know?

The Lordly Hudson

"Driver, what stream is it?" I asked, well knowing
it was our lordly Hudson hardly flowing,
"It is our lordly Hudson hardly flowing,"
he said, "under the green-grown cliffs."

Be still, heart! no one needs your passionate
suffrage to select this glory,
this is our lordly Hudson hardly flowing
under the green-grown cliffs.

"Driver! has this a peer in Europe or the East?"
"No no!" he said. Home! home!
be quiet, heart! this is our lordly Hudson
and has no peer in Europe or the East,

this is our lordly Hudson hardly flowing
under the green-grown cliffs
and has no peer in Europe or the East.
Be quiet, heart! home! home!

(Note: capitalization and punctuation as in original.)

I think one error that is commonly made when exercising a new-found form is to stick too closely to the original. I think the content can and should take precedence over form--always. Always. We have all seen good poems ruined because some insist that that the form strait jacket be jerked one, two, three more notches and tied with a double knot.

The other common error is, as Chris rightly pointed out above, not to dovetail the form and the content.

Rimas dissolutas is a syllabic form where the rhymes within stanzas do not rhyme, but the same line rhymes in all stanzas. It is syllabic of any one length (isosyllabic lines). The stanzas can have any number of lines.

A wonderful example of a variation on this form is Jon Aderson's poem below. (you wouldn't notice these two rimas dissolutas are kin, without taking a careful look.

The Blue Animals

When I awoke this morning
they were there, just as blue
as the morning, as calm
as the long green lawn

they grazed upon, turning
their delicate heads. You
would have said: No harm
shall befall us. But you were gone.

So these two opened my morning
gracefully wide and blue
as the morning sky. Their calm
mouths moved over the lawn,

and as I was turning
to call out again for you,
I saw there was no harm
at all, though you were gone.

I have more forms to suggest, both tried and untried by me, but on the waiting list. However, I've talked quite enough for now. Perhaps as the thread grows, I will come back and suggest them.

Here is another that might not be familiar to everyone: Diminishing Verse. I've successfully used it in a humorous verse but not as successfully as George Herbert in this religious verse.

Paradise.

I Bless thee, Lord, because I GROW
Among thy trees, which in a ROW
To thee both fruit and order OW.

What open force, or hidden CHARM
Can blast my fruit, or bring me HARM,
While the inclosure is thine ARM.

Inclose me still for fear I START.
Be to me rather sharp and TART,
Then let me want thy hand and ART

When thou dost greater judgments SPARE,
And with thy knife but prune and PARE,
Ev’n fruitfull trees more fruitful ARE.

Such sharpnes shows the sweetest FREND:
Such cuttings rather heal then REND:
And such beginnings touch their END.

[Maryann Corbett]

Thank you, thank you, for these contributions. May they not cease!

I'm trying to concoct something thoughtful and substantial to say about encountering form through rules versus recognizing it on the page, and about what it takes for a great form to leap out at the reader--and I haven't thought it through yet. I hope people have more forms while I keep thinking.

[Janice D. Soderling]

I don't want to be hoggish but I promised to deliver info on the pantun.

In its most basic form the pantun consists of a quatrain which employs an abab rhyme scheme. A pantun is traditionally recited according to a fixed rhythm and as a rule of thumb, in order not to deviate from the rhythm, every line should contain between eight and 12 syllables. "The pantun is a four-lined verse consisting of alternating, roughly rhyming lines. The first and second lines sometimes appear completely disconnected in meaning from the third and fourth, but there is almost invariably a link of some sort. Whether it be a mere association of ideas, or of feeling, expressed through assonance or through the faintest nuance of a thought, it is nearly always traceable" (Sim, page 12). The pantun is highly allusive and in order to understand it readers generally need to know the traditional meaning of the symbols the poem employs. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pantun

Definition below taken from John Hollander's book "Selected Poetry".

The disjunct form of these quatrains is borrowed from the Malaly pantun (not from its fussy, refrain-plagued nineteenth-century French derivative, the pantoum) : the first and second lines frame one sentence, and the next two another, apparently unrelated, one. The two are superficially connected by cross-rhyming, and by some common construction, scheme, pun, assonance, or the like and, below the surface, by some puzzlingly deeper parable. Thus a self-descriptive example.

Catamaran

Pantun in the original Malay
XXXAre quatrains of two thoughts, but of one mind.
Athwart these two pontoons I sail away,
XXXyet touching neither; land lies far behind.

John Hollander opens this collection with a number of pantuns under the title Kinneret. The poem is several pages long and built entirely of pantuns. Here is the first one:

As the dry, red sun set we sat and watched
XXXThem bring the fish in from the harp-shaped lake.
At night my life, whose every task is botched,
XXXDreams of far distant places, by mistake.

[Gregory Dowling]

This is an enjoyable thread and I guess it could go on forever. One could just start listing Thomas Hardy's poems, one after another, since he seems to have invented a new form for practically every poem (well, I exaggerate a little...)

As for the terza rima sonnet, I think that Frost almost certainly borrowed if from Shelley's "Ode to the West Wind", which basically consists of five such sonnets.

[W.F. Lantry]

Originally Posted by Janice D. Soderling

The Lordly Hudson

Janice,

I absolutely love this one. Kate makes me recite it every time we go over the George Washington Bridge. But I never thought of it as having a particular form, until now...

Thanks,

Bill

*****************


Editing back in to say: There may be a more accepted technical description, but I'd be tempted to just call it a round. There were lots of them floating about in those days. One of my favorites is Kees' Round:

"Wondrous life!" cried Marvell at Appleton House.
Renan admired Jesus Christ "wholeheartedly."
But here dried ferns keep falling to the floor,
And something inside my head
Flaps like a worn-out blind. Royal Cortssoz is dead.
A blow to the Herald-Tribune. A closet mouse
Rattles the wrapper on the breakfast food. Renan
Admired Jesus Christ "wholeheartedly."

Flaps like a worn-out blind. Cezanne
Would break out in the quiet streets of Aix
And shout, "Le monde, c'est terrible!" Royal
Cortissoz is dead. And something inside my head
Flaps like a worn-out blind. The soil
In which the ferns are dying needs more Vigoro.
There is no twilight on the moon, no mist or rain,
No hail or snow, no life. Here in this house

Dried ferns keep falling to the floor, a mouse
Rattles the wrapper on the breakfast food. Cezanne
Would break out in the quiet streets and scream. Renan
Admired Jesus Christ "wholeheartedly." And something inside my head
Flaps like a worn-out blind. Royal Cortissoz is dead.
There is no twilight on the moon, no hail or snow.
One notes fresh desecrations on the portico.
"Wondrous life!" cried Marvell at Appleton House.

[Janice D. Soderling]

Bill, it is strange how haunting that poem is and I'd be hard-pressed to say why.

I don't know if it is a fixed form or a nonce. I borrowed it for the poem in my current posting, adapted to my needs. I wrote it a few years ago and then lost sight of it. I agree with you that it is one of those poems that just won't let go. I love reading it aloud. Maybe someone smarter than I am can tell me why it is so haunting.

[Marcia Karp]

Originally Posted by Janice D. Soderling

... though I've taken some liberties with John Goodman's original.

Are you thinking of Paul Goodman's poem?

Best,
Marcia

[Janice D. Soderling]

Marcia, can you believe it.

I had the book right under my nose and typed the poem from the cover where it appears with Paul Goodman's name. And I KNOW, truly I do, that it is Paul Goodman who wrote it (as I wrote in another thread--I hope) but I wrote "John", What shall we blame it on? Failing synapses, general stupidity? Whatever, you are always there to lend a helping hand. I'll make those changes now.

I know. Let's blame it on my automatic spelling corrector.

Are you going to re-post your comments on Song by Paul Donne, oh, scusi, I mean John Donne? They were quite interesting, I thought.