For the In-form Poet, December 11th, we’re going to do a rhyming form again (oh quit yer whining!) with some metrics, for…uh…good measure (and yes, I said no whining!)

Per Terry Clitheroe’s wonderful The Poets Garret (

The Terza Rima is a wonderfully challenging poetry form of Italian origin. In the original form, there was no set meter although it is normal to keep a constant syllable count and line length. In the modern version the syllables are accentuated and usually iambic tetrameter or pentameter.

Lines 1 and 3 rhyme with each other, and line 2 sets the rhyme for the next stanza. There can be any number of tercets or three line stanzas and it is a matter of preference whether you link back to the first stanza or not. If there is no link back, it’s normal to terminate with a couplet that rhymes with the previous stanza.
The rhyme patterns are ….a. b. a…b. c. b… c. d. c. etc., finishing x. a. x.; or x. x. etc.

On Writing Terza Rima

I sit and stare at my half-penned schema
and ponder words which might ring like a song.
It’s rather hard to write Terza Rima

since every try seems to turn out wrong.
I wonder why my muse plays games with me
but gives no flash insight for which I long.

Am I taking this too seriously?
I sincerely hope that is not the case.
I think I’ve become delirious. Me.

Once again, I’ve spent too much time and space
since this form has proven to be my bane.
Nevertheless, I’ll try to show some grace.

As you can see, this is not a cinquain
but apropos of nothing, why complain?


White Horse Farms

On the drive home from Atlantic City,
(my grandparents moved there when I was small)
we stopped at a farm stand that looked pretty

inviting, with fresh fruit, as I recall.
My parents bought baskets of sugar plums,
peaches and summer berries from the stall.

“When the peaches are ripe, when the time comes,”
said my mom, “I’ll make a cobbler or pie
or a peach cake with cinnamony crumbs.”

Pleased, we got in the car and waved goodbye.
And suddenly, plums magically vanished…
devoured by my young sisters and I.

Matutolypea *

Does the AM put you in a mòód?
Do you wake up feeling fractious?
Should the early hours be eschewed?

Is awakening detractious:
one side more than the other side,
or is that just being factious?

There are those who say, “Woe, betide
folks who roll to the other side.”
Cranky might be the term applied.

On getting up, you must decide:
Will you be Jekyll…or be Hyde?

* The word, Matutolypea, per Worthless Word for the Day, means ‘waking up on the wrong side of the bed.’


And finally, if you really want a challenge, why not try combining forms, such as the example below (5-7-/5 Haiku/Terza Rima.)

This is the Season

This is the season
of bright scarves and rosy cheeks
and scents so pleasin’

‘cause we’ve waited weeks
for this time to (at long last)
come.  Small children’s shrieks

of joy waft right past
us, like the ribbons we use
to wrap up gifts.  Cast

your gaze, and your muse
will grant your wish, appeasin’
any sort of blues.

And that’s the reason
for all the hustle and fun.
This is the season…


So…are you up for the challenge?  I think you are.  Ready, set…start poeming!


Politically Unbecoming

We tend to see things differently,
But I would never stoop so low
As to treat you viciously.

I’d never thought of you as “foe,”
But that’s how you have treated me
Since partisan rifts began to grow.

I’d love to let ideas flow,
But you would just get mean so, no.

© copyright 2013,  Marie Elena Good



By mid-October, she gets this tingle
through to her fingers and her toes.
The little folk begin to mingle

in their merry workshop clothes.
And in the stables things get going,
that’s the way it always goes.

Just outside, the wind is blowing,
frigid hands, but warming hearts
and even though it’s really snowing

it belies the way this season starts.
So, in the kitchen – pots and pans
and dry goods stacked on sturdy carts.

Mrs. “C” makes no demands
as Christmas baking she begins
with her tender loving hands.

He’ll be busy filling his bins
with toys for all the girls and boys,
while her baked goods fill her tins,

her one of many Christmas joys.
They called her Crystal, Mrs. “C”,
an angelic voice amongst the noise,

the sound of much activity.
But, she is clear on why she’s here:
to celebrate Nativity.

Her given name, it surely fits her,
transparent as the day is long,
for Santa Claus can see through her,

her eyes – wide open, vision strong.
This “Peace on Earth” was her grand scheme
and when she’s right, things can’t go wrong.

While children close their eyes to dream
with blankets tucked beneath their jaws,
that is when Mrs. “C” will beam.

This “Lady in Waiting” for the cause,
listening for his sleigh bells jingle.
She is his Mrs. Santa Claus!

© copyright 2013,  Walter J Wojtanik