Florid
 

Baroque

Lighting the empty chambers of my heart,
the chestnut trees hold out their candelabra.
Spring overloads my synapses to start
lighting the empty chambers of my heart
with bumptious daffodils and scents that smart,
birdsong as fervid and intense as opera.
Lighting the empty chambers of my heart,
the chestnut trees hold out their candelabra.

Hi, Susan—

Lovely triolet. As the titles make clear, the abundance of sensory stimulation in the operatic birdsong, curving “candelabra” branches of chestnut trees, and frilly, fragrant “bumptious” daffodils announces the arrival of spring dramatically. I think I prefer “Baroque” to “Florid.”

Your poem leads the parade of poems celebrating spring that we will see for the next few weeks. As an Alaskan, I say, “Let the parade begin!”

Glenn

The only thing I'd question is "smart," which doesn't strike me as the right word for what you're describing, and thus feels rhyme driven. Maybe I'll reconcile to it after a few more reads? But perhaps you could have the scents "dart" if you can adjust the following line to make it make sense?

In place of "empty", maybe try "gloomy" or "cloudy" (to explain why it needs lighting).

I like this overall, especially the candelabra/opera rhyme.

Hi Susan,

This I think will trigger me to try the form. One nit, the beautiful concept of the the chestnut tree candelabra lighting the chambers of your heart followed by synapses starting to light is a doubtful path.

Jan

Thanks for the responses, everyone.

Glenn, "candelabra" was meant to refer to the flowers of the horse chestnut trees when they bloom:
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Aescul...anum_flori.jpg
Actual chestnut trees were nearly wiped out in the U.S. by a blight, so when I say chestnut, I mean horse chestnut. "Baroque" is the intended title, and "Florid" the cover title.

Roger, when I say "scents that smart" I am referring to the swoony kind of fragrance of lilacs, so gorgeous that it almost knocks you out. But also, I get hay fever in the spring, so the scents hurt in that way. With "empty chambers of my heart" I was trying to suggest the sensory deprivation of winter, followed by the sensory overload of spring. I love it, but it feels over-the-top, like the supersaturated colors of a Rubens painting.

Jan, I am still trying to decide whether "synapses" belong in the poem. They are part of the sensory overload theme of the poem.

Susan

Hello, Susan,

This is a lovely and well-developed triolet—an immersive evocation of spring’s emotional and sensory intensity. The repeated lines are evocative and mostly flow well, though I wonder if the rhyme occasionally feels a bit driven by necessity rather than natural progression.

You might consider a few small tweaks for smoother flow and internal logic. For example:

To light the empty chambers of my heart,
the chestnut trees hold out their candelabra.
Spring overloads the synapses which smart
to light the empty chambers of my heart.
In scents of bumptious daffodils I chart
birdsong as fervid and intense as opera.
To light the empty chambers of my heart,
the chestnut trees hold out their candelabra.

This version preserves your vivid images while softening some of the line breaks and giving the phrasing a more reflective cadence.

Of course, the original has its own rhythmic charm—just offering one possible variation in case it proves useful.

Cheers,
...Alex

Alex, it is useful to hear your take on the rhymes and meter. I need to hear what is not working for some, though I prefer the more varied meter. I don't know how to evoke a paradox ("scents that smart") without risking the possibility that some readers will think the "smart" is there for the rhyme. Since I am trying to suggest an over-the-top reaction, I think I will accept the possibility that not everyone will take it the same way.

Susan

Hi Susan,

I like this a lot. The key image of the chestnut trees holding out candelabra works well.

Like Roger, I was initially thrown by one word. It's in the same line as Roger's word. Mine is "bumptious". It's a good word to describe arriviste daffodils, but is it tonally a good word for this poem? I may have to read it into place in subsequent passes, but maybe think about it. I should add that I felt bumped by the word, rather than the word describing the flowers.

Rick

I like it, Susan, though like Roger I am not sure about "smart." I rather like "bumptious" - I can see the objection, but I think it's fun.

The language of the poem does feel ornately over-the-top, or baroque, which I assume was very much intentional given the subject matter.

I like it too, Susan. I think "bumptious" is fine, and "smart" is intriguing. (I didn't necessarily need your justification of it.)

Cheers

David

There's nothing wrong with the poem, Susan, but I don't think it goes far enough in stretching the language. It's a "safe" spring poem, and it's a good poem because you're a good poet, but it doesn't get beyond pretty-pretty.

This may be my personal shtick, but I feel triolets (and villanelles) work best when the ending has a twist to it, a little wink or nudge that adds - or hints at - another dimension. Ideally, you don't change a thing in the final two lines, but L6 sets up the twist. More often, you cheat - a change in punctuation or, if you're desperate - a word or two. As I stated, this is my personal feeling - I don't know if the World Council of Triolets (the Geneva one - not the one Trump started) would agree.

Rick, I meant to imply that daffodils are an in-your-face kind of flower. They always make me sneeze.

Hilary, yes, the language is more ornate than I usually use, because of the theme of being over-the-top. I will note your reservations about "smart." I mean the word to startle but not baffle the reader. A scent can smart in more ways than one, so I wanted to leave the connotations open.

David, I am glad to hear that you could make sense of "smart."

Michael, I prefer triolets that end with a twist, too. However, sometimes the repetition of the initial lines, even without a twist, can allow an image to sink in further, so I am okay with that kind of triolet.

Susan

.
It could be just me and the mood I'm in, or maybe the nagging sound of form's repetitive nature, or the words "candelabra" and "bumptious" which don't invoke spring to my ear, but this feels stiff and unspring-like (I guess that's where the title comes in?). It doesn't feel like it sprung from inspiration, but rather from the challenge of writing a spring poem in triolet form.

As Michael says, there's no "twist" or "wink".

.

It's growing on me, for what that's worth.

An "empty" heart makes me think of the one my daughter donated to UCLA after her transplant. (Could be just me....)

The candelabra/opera rhyme is great fun.

I wonder if the two "and"s in these lines (one unstressed, one promoted) might be tinkered with:

with bumptious daffodils and scents that smart,
birdsong as fervid and intense as opera.

—> Something like:

with bumptious daffodils, sharp scents that smart,
birdsong fervid, shrill, intense as opera.

That would be an awful lot of adjectives, but hey, it's Baroque and over-ornamented, right?

Cheers,
Julie