Wednesday, February 8, 2023
Trenta-Sei Verse Form
This rather interesting form was created by John Anthony Ciardi (1916-1986), an American poet, translator, and etymologist.
This thirty-six line poem (trenta-sei is Italian for the number 36) is divided into six, six-line verses, or sestets. The rhyme scheme is a-b-a-b-c-c and there does not appear to be a specific syllable count, but I would think you should keep it consistent between verses.
Now, here comes the interesting part. Each line in the first verse becomes the first line in its corresponding verse. So line one in verse one stays the same, but line two in verse one becomes line one in verse two. Line three in verse one becomes line one in verse three. And so on, and so on. It’s kind of like a cross between a sestina and a cascade poem.
Because of the lack of a set syllable count, there’s not really a schematic to show, but I can show you how the repetition works:
Verse 1
Line 1 rhyme a
Line 2 rhyme b
Line 3 rhyme a
Line 4 rhyme b
Line 5 rhyme c
Line 6 rhyme c
Verse 2
starts with line 2 from first verse
Verse 3
starts with line 3 from first verse
Verse 4
starts with line 4 from first verse
Verse 5
starts with line 5 from first verse
Verse 6
starts with line 6 from first verse
The challenge with this form is to have a strong enough first verse to carry through the remaining poem. My lines are octosyllabic, meaning they have eight syllables each. This wasn’t a conscious decision, that’s just the way they worked out.
Time
Time after time, and time again . . .
often, I’ve found time is twisting,
it makes time tricky to maintain
time will be always persisting –
time is bending, time will scurry
time is slowing, time will hurry.
Often, I’ve found time is twisting,
past and present perform a dance –
sometimes you’ll find time resisting
it slows right down, and then advance.
Time turns, it spirals, then flows straight
but time does not accumulate.
It makes time tricky to maintain –
you cannot grasp it in your hand
it’s nothing that you can sustain
and yet we bow to time’s demand.
We worship time and yet we still
cannot contort time to our will.
Time will always be persisting –
it cannot be halted in its tracks,
there really is no sense resisting
for time will always wan and wax.
Sometimes it flows, much like a tide
and sometimes it races, magnified.
Time is bending, time will scurry,
time will follow its very own path –
passing time will make things blurry,
regret will fill time’s aftermath.
Time will not ever wait for you
But wasted time will oft accrue.
Time is slowing, time will hurry
whenever we don’t want it to.
Look at time with passing fury,
it doesn’t care; we’ve paid its due.
Time’s something we cannot outrun –
and suddenly our time is done.
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