Chanso Poetry

The Chanso is a great form for anyone who wants to write poetry but doesn’t want to be tied down to one of the traditional forms. You get to choose the number of stanzas, the rhyme scheme, and the number of syllables per line. The only requirement is that all lines have the same number of syllables, all stanzas have the same number of lines, and the rhyme scheme stays the same throughout the poem. It ends with an envoy that should be half the length of a verse.

Also called the Canso, or the Chanson, this form originated in 12th century France and was popular with the European troubadours. You can use whatever you like as the theme for your poem, but traditionally it was written as a love song. The first stanza should introduce your theme, and the envoy should wrap everything up.

My example isn’t a love song, it was inspired by something a little different.


Geese at Dawn

Noble figures, gliding in a line,
Cutting through the water, clear as glass.
Silent sentinels, by my count nine,
Guarding the access, no one shall pass.

Patrol the breakwater, duty bound,
Keeping the others safe on the shore.
Herald the dawn with focus profound
And when the moment is right, you soar.

Take wing, noble guardians of the bay!
Ascend to the heights, where you belong.
Soar, majestic gatekeepers grey
In a vee your flock is ever strong.

You were here with the very first dawn
And will be here still when man is gone.

Usually poems just sort of come to me, but this one was inspired by something I saw a few days ago. It was early morning, and I was parked (alongside several others) down at the yacht basin beside our local harbor. I was looking out over the water as I enjoyed my take-out breakfast, and I happened to notice a line of Canada geese crossing from one side of the basin to the other. They looked so stately, so precise, as they glided one after another in a straight line. It’s to my regret I didn’t take a picture of them with my phone, but obviously it left an impression on me.

The End and . . . The Other End

There is no real ending. It's just the place where you stop the story.
— Frank Herbert

Ends are not bad things, they just mean that something else is about to begin. And there are many things that don't really end, anyway, they just begin again in a new way. Ends are not bad and many ends aren't really an ending; some things are never-ending.
— C. JoyBell C.

The end of THE END is the best place to begin THE END, because if you read THE END from the beginning of the beginning of THE END to the end of the end of THE END, you will arrive at the end.
― Lemony Snicket, The End

I’m almost halfway through the latest rounds of edits on Magickal Mayhem, which means the end is nigh. One day (sooner rather than later, I hope) I’ll be able to close the file and count it as done.

Meanwhile, I posted the final installment of my on-line serial, The Cave, on Friday. Did you read it? What did you think? Were you satisfied or disappointed? I’ll tell you honestly, it was always going to end that way. I figured out the ending about halfway through, I just wasn’t sure how I was going to get there.

Right now it’s sitting at about 15,000 words, which is a good size for a novelette. If I can write three more about the same length, I can release them as an anthology. But in the meantime, The Cave needs a lot of work. LOL

If the beginning of a story is meant to draw the reader in, then the ending needs to leave the reader satisfied with what happened to the characters. The easiest way to do this (for me at least) is to know how the story is going to end before you start, that way you can leave clues as you go along.

Flash fiction aside, I try not to start a story unless I know how it’s going to end. I don’t need to know all the stuff in between, you have to have some fun with the journey, but I need to have a destination in mind. I have written strong beginnings in the past, but they fizzled out pretty quickly when I had no idea where they were going.

With The Cave, I didn’t even realize it was going to be a lengthy story and I cannot tell you the number of convoluted ideas I had for finishing it. It wasn’t until I settled on the idea that it was a fight between good and evil (an age old theme), that things fell into place. I knew the murals would be key, but I was also constrained by what I’d already written. So it wasn’t until I was working on the ending that I figured out the importance of the spirals.

Knowing your ending ahead of time allows you to build tension throughout the story, letting you throw in a plot twist or two. This is something I can work on during the rewrites. Although I think Eve pushing Sara off of the cliff was a nice plot twist. :-)

You can try different endings to see which one works the best. You can leave room for interpretation. Eve could just as easily beaten Sara and placed the keystone first, although I think if I was going that way I would have made the evil spirit more of a presence like I did the guardians.

You can have a happy ending, a sad ending, an ending with a twist, or one that’s open to interpretation. But whatever else, the ending needs to make sense, and it should resolve the storyline, unless you’re deliberately going for a cliff hanger to entice readers to buy the next book.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

WORDAGE REPORT

It was a busy week last week, and mostly busy with things other than writing. It was a holiday Monday and I spent it getting my gardens in (it being too rainy on the weekend to do so). The rest of the week was filled with group meetings and extended visits and a very messed up Friday.

I skipped Monday’s post because I just didn’t have anything to say. The rest of the posts were up, and on time, but it was a near thing with the final installment of my serial story. And now I have to come up with an idea for next Friday

NEW WORDS:
Blog Posts –
1,329+208+1,493=3,030
Poetry – 470 (not including post)
Other words – 434 (to finish serial story)

Total words: 3,934

Three-minute words –
112+113+94+121+138+115+117= 810

Goals For Next Week:
Write something other than my three-minute words and blog posts. Decide what I’m going to do for Fiction Fridays now that the serial is done.

EDITING:
49 pages
The further into the edits I get, the more work I realize this book needs. And also, that I’ve been working on flash fiction too long. *sigh* In other words, I’m kind of rushing this round and once I’m done I still have a lot of work to do. But the good news is, every time I go through it, it gets easier.

Goal For Next Week:
Keep up the good work on Magickal Mayhem.

MARKETING MONDAY:
I didn’t forget and I did want to, I even know which pieces I’m going to start with. I just wasn’t able to squeeze out the time for it. Did I mention what a busy week it was?

Goal For Next Week:
Submit two flash stories and one poem.

TECHNO TUESDAY:
Tuesday was one of the two busiest days for me last week. Even had I the urge to do something technical, I just didn’t have the time. I did learn something though, I learned there’s only so many hours in a day you have to sleep sometime.

Goal For Next Week:
Do something else technical or educational (like access one of my tutorials).

POETRY WEDNESDAY:
I had a meeting of the CPW (Cobourg Poetry Workshop), and I thought it would be fun to finally do all of the prompts we’re given on a monthly basis. So that meant I wrote five poems. Plus someone shared a form back on Pi Day (March 14) and it was so much fun I did six of them.

Goal For Next Week:
Share a new poetry form and new poem.

CRAFTING:
I started a new cross stich for a needle book during a meeting of my stitchery guild. Considering the amount of time I’ve spent on it, I didn’t get very far. But that was about the only time I had to spend on crafts during the week. Unless you count hemming another pair of pants for my father-in-law.

Goal For Next Week:
Work on cross stitch. Finish sansevieria.

WHAT I’M READING:
You know I had a busy week when I didn’t even have time to read. I finished The Bookshop of Second Chances, by Jackie Fraser, and I’m on the last of four stories in an anthology called Night Shift.

No reading on the Paperwhite.

Goal For Next Week:
Keep up the good work with the variety of books I’m reading. Stop ignoring the Paperwhite.

GOAL REVIEW:
Missed my Monday post, but the others were up, and all on time. I wrote some extra poetry, which was kind of nice, and I had to add some extra words to finish up the serial story. I suppose I could have just saved them to do one more installment, but I really wanted it wrapped up with Part 20.

I did not get anything sent out for publication, nor did I do anything technical on Tuesday.

I just didn’t have time to spend on crafts last week, and with all the crafts I already have on the go, of course I started something new. And just to add to the fun, I received a felting book I don’t remember ordering. Hopefully, that will be the last of the craft supplies for awhile.

So . . . once again last week was kind of three steps forward, two steps back. But I’m still moving in the right direction and next week should be even better. *knock on wood*

Happy writing.

The Cave – The End

To quickly recap: Friends Eve and Sara were rock climbing and stumbled across a large cave with primitive drawings on its walls. A rock slide traps them inside. Having little choice, they go deeper into the cave, hoping to find another exit. The cave system seems to be a mixture of natural and man-made and the further into it they go, the stranger Eve starts acting. Just as Sara thinks they’re getting close to a way out, Eve shoves her off of a ledge into a chasm. Now they must each find their way. But there's something else going on as well . . . and the battle is on between good and evil.

Sara had only taken a few steps down the passage when she experienced a sensation of vertigo. Touching the wall for support, she waited for it to pass.

“Whoa! What was that?”

There was no answer, but she didn’t really expect there to be one. Feeling steadier, she continued onwards. A few more steps brought her to the end of the tunnel where she stopped again, this time in shock. She was back at the beginning, in the chamber where the cave paintings were.

She stumbled a few steps forward in disbelief, then turned to look back the way she’d come. Somehow, she wasn’t surprised to see a blank wall behind her.

Hurry . . .

Sure, now the spirits talked to her. Sara shook off her resentment, filing her questions away for later. She had a job to do, and with any luck it would result in escape from this nightmare. Approaching the paintings, she studied them carefully, looking for clues.

Though crudely rendered, they weren’t the primitive examples of early man that she and Eve had first thought.

“It’s more symbolic,” she murmured. “Yes, here. And here.” She ran her hand over the rough rock. “It’s telling the story the guardians told me.”

Feeling like she was on the verge of something important, she went over the entire wall from start to finish.

Reaching the end of the last painting, Sara frowned. Something was missing. The story wasn’t complete. The answer she was hoping for wasn’t here. With a dispirited sigh, she stepped back from the paintings. Maybe the answer she was looking for was in one of the murals.

“Wait, wait,” Sara said aloud. “I just remembered something.”

She hurried to the back of the cave where the passage to the chamber with the mosaics was, but this time she took the right-hand passage. A few feet along she came to what she was looking for.

“Do you know what this says?” she asked the spirits, running her hand over the writing that had been left on the wall.

The spiral is the . . .

“The spiral is the what?” Sara asked impatiently.

That is all. The message is unfinished.

“Damnit! Okay, can you tell me who wrote it? Was it your leader, Maali?”

Yes . . .

“The spiral is the what?” Sara repeated, frustrated.

We do not know . . .

Unfinished paintings, unfinished messages, this just kept getting better and better. She could only hope that the answer lay with the murals. Filled with trepidation, she retraced her way back to the middle passage, and then on to the cave with the mosaics.

Eve was so focused on what she was doing she didn’t even notice Sara entering the mosaic chamber. Or maybe, Sara thought, Eve was just ignoring her. Well, two could play that game. Ignoring Eve repairing the abstract mural, Sara concentrated on the other one.

Like the paintings, it seemed to portray the story of the battle between good and evil, and the guardians trapping themselves in the cave system with the evil entity. At least she thought that’s what the cluster of black stones represented.

The bottom left corner wasn’t quite finished. Sara peered closer at it. Or was it? It showed work being done on both murals. There was the spiral, only it was different. She glanced upwards and almost gasped as she saw a spiral hidden within the mural. But there was a stone missing.

Keystone . . .

This voice was different from the other guardians.

“Who—Maali? Is that you?” Could the spirit of the guardian leader have survived? Sara almost snorted at herself. It would be no stranger than any of this.

Turn the key in the lock . . .

“I don’t—” Sara frowned, and then looked closer at what the figure in the mural was holding. “Of course,” she murmured.

With a glance at Eve to make sure she was still occupied, Sara began digging through the loose dirt at the base of the mural. She uncovered many stones, but none was the right one. Of course it couldn’t be that easy, she thought.

Slowly, trying not to draw attention to herself, she crossed over to the wall with the abstract mural. Eve’s head whipped around.

“Stay away!”

Sara held up her hands in a placating gesture. “I only want to look. Maybe you’d like some help with what you’re doing?”

“I will kill you if you touch my mural.”

“I swear,” Sara said. “No touching.”

Eve went back to what she was doing. It looked like she was almost finished. Sara moved as close as she dared and scanned the dirt at the base of this mural. She almost gave up, but then Eve shifted her position. Her foot scuffed the dirt and uncovered something that glinted in the light.

Sara held her breath, but Eve didn’t seem to notice what was right under her feet.

“Keystone, keystone, now I need a keystone,” Eve chanted in a sing-song voice. She turned to the pack a few feet away.

The second Eve moved away, Sara darted towards the keystone. Scooping it up, she ran back to her mural.

“No!” Eve shrieked. She tackled Sara from behind and they hit the ground hard. The stone flew from Sara’s hand.

Crawling over Sara, Eve reached for the stone. Sara rolled, taking her with her. Eve was like a wild thing – punching and clawing and biting. She managed a lucky punch to the side of Sara’s head and as Sara lay there, half-stunned, Eve grabbed up the keystone and scrambled towards the abstract mural.

Sara gained her feet, glancing around for a weapon of some kind. Grabbing up the pack still half filled with stones, she swung it with all her might, hitting Eve in the head just as she was about to fit the keystone into the center of her spiral.

Eve dropped, still clutching the stone. Sara pried it out of her hand and raced back to the spiral in the other mural.

“Here goes nothing,” she said, and fit the stone into the space in the center of the spiral. Nothing happened. Eve stirred behind her.

Turn the key . . .

“Of course!” Sara turned the stone. There was a peal, like a bell, and a brilliant flash of light.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

Eve was the first to stir. She yawned and rubbed at her eyes, then checked her watch. “Holy crap! Hey, Sara. Wake up.”

“Ow! Did you just kick me?”

“We were only supposed to take a break, looks like we fell asleep.”

Sara struggled awake. She’d been slumped down beside a boulder. “We fell asleep?” she asked.

Eve laughed. “We sure did. It’s almost suppertime, we’d better start back before they send the forest rangers after us.”

Sara stretched, then froze as the memory of what they’d been through came flooding back. She glanced at Eve, who was standing now, stretching, perfectly normal. She glanced towards where the fissure had been in the rock, but there was no sign of it. It had felt so real, she couldn’t believe it had all been a dream.

As she started to get to her feet she realized she was holding something in her hand. She unclenched her fingers – it was the keystone.

Thank you . . .

The words were lost in the whisper of the wind.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

Missed an installment? Catch up here: Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven, Part Eight,  Part Nine, Part Ten, Part Eleven, Part Twelve, Part Thirteen, Part Fourteen, Part Fifteen, Part Sixteen, Part Seventeen, Part Eighteen, Part Nineteen

Flamenca Poetry Form

The flamenca is another Spanish form, although not as complicated as the Ovillejo. This form is written in quatrains (five-line stanzas) with a staccato rhythm reminiscent of the flamenco dance. It can be any number of verses, constructed with a 6–6–5–6–6 syllable count. It does not rhyme, but lines 2 and 5 should share assonance.

Assonance isn’t precisely a rhyme, it is the repetition of the same or similar vowel sounds within words, phrases, or sentences.

Schematic:

x x x x x x
x x x x x x (assonance)
x x x x x
x x x x x x
x x x x x x (assonance)

I’m not sure I mastered the art of assonance, but I think my example works anyway.


Dancer

arms raised above the head
wrists loose, hands at rest
the music begins
staccato rhythm starts
feet move as though possessed

head held high showing pride
you move with fluid grace
dance the flamenco
desire comes alive
as feet keep up the pace

Show and Tell

Maybe there’s room for both, telling as well as showing. It’s something to think about.
― A.D. Aliwat, In Limbo

Most people say, "Show, don't tell," but I stand by Show and Tell, because when writers put their work out into the world, they're like kids bringing their broken unicorns and chewed-up teddy bears into class in the sad hope that someone else will love them as much as they do.
— Colson Whitehead

My job is to show and tell. If I get better at showing and telling then presumably I get hired more.
— Tom Hardy

Do you remember “show and tell” from your primary school days? Most schools don’t do that anymore, which I think is a shame. We had a lot of fun with it, and sometimes you could actually learn something from what the other kids brought in. Often, when you brought something in to “show” you also ended up having to “tell” the class something about it.

When it comes to writing, a lot of people have trouble showing instead of telling the story. Fiction is all about forging an emotional link between the author and the reader. You want to make your writing vivid enough to grab a reader’s attention and draw them into the story.

Good writing should evoke sensation in the reader and one of the best ways to do this is by creating vivid images that immerse readers in the world of the fiction. Do this by showing the readers what’s happening, not just telling them.

Don’t just say “it’s raining”, help the reader experience the storm. Involve the emotions. Take fear, for instance. Fear is a strong emotion with a great many ways to describe it - the stomach gets tied in knots, breaking out in a sweat, shivering, uncertainty in the eyes, huddling in a ball, a strong urge to run away. . .

Another way of doing this is by using the five senses. Have your character see what’s around them, taste the smooth silky flavor of the latte they’re drinking, feel the softness of the kitten’s fur beneath their hand, hear the wind shushing through the trees, and smell the ozone in the air from a storm.

You want your reader invested in the character. You want the reader inside the action. That's the sign of good writing . . . to pull the reader out of his ordinary life and put him in the middle of someplace else.

Many writers resort to telling because they believe the reader won't get the point if they don't. Often writers tell, then show, to make sure they get their point across, in effect treating their readers like morons. But the truth is that when you take out the telling, the showing remains.

But telling also has its place. Telling will slow things down. A story that’s non-stop action can be exhausting for the reader. After an extended, action-filled scene, narrative (telling) can give the reader a break. It also varies the story’s rhythm.

Telling can also be used to transition between scenes. A brief event can smooth the way between bits of action or character interaction, without leaving an illogical gap or a sudden, unintentional jump in time.

The mark of a good writer is the ability to use both showing and telling to their best advantage. A successful story is one that has a balance between the two, and only you, as the writer, can decide how much should be shown, and how much should be told.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

WORDAGE REPORT

Kind of a so-so week last week. I got my posts up, and on time, but didn’t do much beyond that (writing wise). My serial story is winding down so I’ve started thinking about what I’ll be doing next for Fiction Fridays.

NEW WORDS:
Blog Posts –
1,374+471+322+992=3,159
Poetry
322 (included in blog posts)

Total words: 3,159

Three-minute words –
130+88+129+91+114+118+104=774

Goals For Next Week:
Write something other than my three-minute words and blog posts. Decide what I’m going to do for Fiction Fridays once the serial is done.

EDITING:
The mediocrity of the week extended to my editing. I managed 50 more pages of Magickal Misfire, but it should have been a lot more. Unfortunately, one of the time slots I’d designated for editing got used for something else.

Goal For Next Week:
Keep up the good work on Magickal Mayhem.

MARKETING MONDAY:
This time I didn’t forget, I just didn’t wanna. My car was in the shop for an oil change and they decided the front brakes needed replacing, and it was a rainy, miserable day which tends to make me rainy and miserable.

Goal For Next Week:
Submit two flash stories and one poem.

TECHNO TUESDAY:
C’mon, I set up my Paperwhite, what more do you want from me? *sigh* I can only blame the weather for so much. It was a crappy week, weather-wise, which put me in a crappy mood, and I just wasn’t up to learning anything new.

Goal For Next Week:
Do something else technical or educational (like access one of my tutorials).

POETRY WEDNESDAY:
Two weeks in a row with a new form and a new poem! I think I’ve been away from doing the forms long enough that I’ve found a new interest in them.

Goal For Next Week:
Share a new poetry form and new poem.

CRAFTING:
Kind of a mediocre week for crafts too. I got one side of my canvas tote bag stamped, but just one side. I didn’t want the other side rubbing off while I was working on the first one. I also got the granddaughter’s dragon transferred onto some blue material for her pillow. Then I put the ironing board away so I could set up my sewing machine to work on some other stuff. LOL

Goal For Next Week:
Work on pillow. Finish sansevieria. Start embroidery on tote bag.

WHAT I’M READING:
Last week I read The Next Always, The Last Boyfriend, and The Perfect Hope, by (you guessed it!) Nora Roberts. I barely started Sea Swept, also by Nora Roberts, and just for variety started The Bookshop of Second Chances, by Jackie Fraser.

On the Paperwhite I read The Bear’s Chosen Mate, by Vivian Arend, which was perfectly yummy. ;-)

Goal For Next Week:
Finish the latest Nora Roberts if I must, and then put her away for awhile. I have many other books waiting to be read.

GOAL REVIEW:
My blog posts were up, and all on time. It’s so much easier when I stay on top of things. And I managed a new poetry form. However, that was the only writing I did, which is a little disappointing. I did get some editing done though.

I did not get anything sent out for publication, nor did I do anything technical on Tuesday.

I just couldn’t seem to settle on a craft, and ended up getting little done there. I got caught up looking at cross stitch patterns, and when I went online to order my father-in-law a pair of shoes, Amazon tempted me with these little metal charms that would be perfect for my appliqué work. No, I did not resist temptation. I ordered three different bags of them.

So . . . last week was kind of three steps forward, two steps back. But I’m sill moving in the right direction so let’s hope I can keep it up.

Happy writing.

The Cave – Part Nineteen

To quickly recap: Friends Eve and Sara were rock climbing and stumbled across a large cave with primitive drawings on its walls. A rock slide traps them inside. Having little choice, they go deeper into the cave, hoping to find another exit. The cave system seems to be a mixture of natural and man-made and the further into it they go, the stranger Eve starts acting. Just as Sara thinks they’re getting close to a way out, Eve shoves her off of a ledge into a chasm. Now they must each find their way. But there's something else going on as well . . . Sara knows part of what’s happening, but Eve is caught in a dangerous web.

The fungus was every bit as unpleasant as Eve remembered. She ate slowly, not to savor it but to keep from getting sick as she did before. Once the cramping in her stomach eased she stopped and broke off several large pieces for later. This time she had her empty pack with her and she stuffed it full of the fungus, then made her way back to the mosaic.

The pile of stones she’d gathered had diminished from the repairs she’d made. She needed more if she was to finish repairing the mosaic and complete the spiral. Sinking slowly to the ground she felt like weeping at the thought of returning to where she’d found the loose stones. It was so far, and she was so tired. Her eyes closed.

Above her, a ripple of light passed over the mosaic. It followed the pattern but when it got to the spiral it pulsed once and then disappeared. Eve woke with a start.

This wasn’t gathering new stones. She needed to go, she needed to hurry. Time was growing short. Scrambling to her feet, she dumped the fungus from her pack into a pile and stuffed her empty water bottles inside. She would be passing right by where she’d found the water, she might as well fill them up.

First things first though. She must get the stones. As an afterthought she stuffed a couple of pieces of the fungus in her pack as well, just in case she got hungry. Eve followed the shortcut passage, never stopping, never hesitating until she returned to the section of the cave system where she’d found the stones used in the mosaic.

This time she chose the stones more carefully, rejecting three for every one she put in the pack. She ate the fungus she’d brought with her absently; the empty bottles went back into the mesh. Her movements slowed. She was so thirsty. Why hadn’t she stopped for water? She could have brought it with her and got more on her return. The stones she’d been gathering began to glow.

Shaking her head, she continued with her task until her pack was full once more. It was all she could do to shoulder her pack. Stumbling, she almost fell. The stones began to pulse as she staggered back the way she’d come. She had to keep going, no matter the cost.

Eve had only a vague recollection of the cul-de-sac with the trickle of water. Her thinking was so muddled that she might have imagined it. She hoped not. Thirst was growing with every step she took back towards the split.

If she’d had the tears to spare, she would have wept when she found it. Her pack slid to the ground. Unable to wait, she plunged her face into the shallow bowl of water and drank deeply.

The water was cool and refreshing and she felt immeasurably better when she raised her head, gulping air instead. She filled the first two bottles but had to wait until the bowl filled again before filling the third.

She took a few moments to rest. The fog in her mind started to clear away. Suddenly, she realized she’d left her lantern in the cave with the mosaic, but she could see without it. How was this possible?

A shiver went up her spine. This wasn’t natural. There was something very strange going on. Grabbing up her water bottles she stuffed them into the mesh on her pack, then eyed the load of stones. There was no reason she had to lug all these stones so far. She could leave half of them here and come back for them later.

She reached out her hand to do just that but stopped just short of touching the flap. Trying again she felt a stir of panic when she wasn’t able touch the clasp that held her pack closed. Looked like she could either leave them behind or take all of them with her. The stones began to glow once more as she shouldered the pack.

By the time she made her way back to the cave with the mosaics, her thoughts were no longer her own again. She went directly over to the abstract mural and just stood there in front of it. Everything became clear to her again. She was here to finish the mural. It was her sole purpose.

Eve began placing the stones with care, slower this time, taking a break as needed for a bite of fungus or a sip of water. She must not fail. She would not fail. She would finish the mural and all would be right with the world. Freedom beckoned.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

Missed an installment? Catch up here: Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven, Part Eight,  Part Nine, Part Ten, Part Eleven, Part Twelve, Part Thirteen, Part Fourteen, Part Fifteen, Part Sixteen, Part Seventeen, Part Eighteen 

Ovillejo

The Ovillejo is a somewhat complicated Spanish form, dating back to the 1600s. It consists of ten lines – three rhyming couplets and a quatrain written as a redondilla. There is also a strict syllable count.

The first line of each couplet is eight syllables long, and presents a question. The second line is three or four syllables, and presents an answer or an echo.

The first three lines of the quatrain have eight syllables, summarizing the couplets, while the final line consists of the repetition of lines two, four, and six. But wait! That’s not all. The first line of the quatrain rhymes with the last couplet, and the next two lines of the quatrain rhyme with each other.

Got it? Maybe this will make it a little easier:

x x x x x x x a
x x x a

x x x x x x x b
x x x b

x x x x x x x c
x x x c

x x x x x x x c
x x x x x x x d
x x x x x x x d
line 2, line 4, line 6

This was actually an interesting form to work in. The question and answer. Once I got my head wrapped around the question/answer thing, I found the long/short lines had an interesting rhythm. And I really liked the way the last line wrapped it all up.


Searching For Answers

Where have all of the answers gone;
conclusions drawn.

How many questions left unasked;
intrigue unmasked.

Who is keeping the answers true;
they have no clue.

I have questions with answers due,
I seek the truth, it eludes me.
The truth is meant to set us free.
Conclusions drawn. Intrigue unmasked. They have no clue.