A terzanelle is a poetic form combining aspects of the villanelle and the terza rima. It is nineteen lines total, with five triplets and a concluding quatrain. The middle line of each triplet stanza is repeated as the third line of the following stanza, and the first and third lines of the initial stanza are the second and final lines of the concluding quatrain; thus, seven of the lines are repeated in the poem. The rhyme scheme and stanzaic structure are as follows (a capitalized letter indicates a line repeated verbatim):
- ABA’
- bCB
- cDC
- dED
- eFE
- fAFA’
WALT’S TERZANELLE:
JOHN LAYS DYING
The women folk are distraught; they’re crying
for a man knocking on the door.
Their tears fall as John lays dying.
It seems that we’ve been here before,
another Christmas time in grief
for a man knocking on the door.
Death comes stealing like a thief,
taking what he wants from life,
another Christmas time in grief.
A hard man to figure; a husband, father to my wife,
a grandfather held in the embrace of love
taking what he wants from life.
A fervent prayer to Him above
wanting to ease his suffering, end his pain.
A grandfather held in the embrace of love
and I stand vigil at this time again!
The women folk are distraught; they’re crying,
wanting to ease his suffering, end his pain.
Our tears fall as John lays dying.
© Walter J. Wojtanik, 2014
***I apologize for the lateness of the form. I currently sit at Brothers of Mercy Nursing Facility in Buffalo, in the Hospice ward. We are in constant vigil for my father-in-law, John Burkowski, to draw his last breath in this life. Suffering from cancer, a brain injury, Parkinson’s, dementia and in the throes of renal failure, John continues to hold onto life with a remarkable courage. We can only wait so long until emotion gets the best of us and we seek relief. My release comes in poetic forms. This poem depicts my state.
POETIC BLOOMINGS 
Responses
Thoughts and hugs for you and your family, Walt.
Thank you Susan. I appreciate it.
Prayers for you and your wife and her family. Such a hard time watching a loved one suffering. May the angels quickly take him from his pain. Blessings
Thank you Iris. I have two specific angels in mind to accomplish that!
So sorry to hear that, Walt, I will be praying for you all.
It means a lot, Connie. I feel blessed to have such friends!
Walt, I’m so sorry. That you could find the motivation to post a prompt at such a time says a great deal for your spirit of serving this community.
This community is what keeps me full of vigor. Motivation is just doing something with the words as they spill out of me! I thank you so much, Viv!
HOLIDAY MASKS
It’s harder at this time of year.
As passersby will waive or nod,
we feign the joy of Christmas cheer.
With heavy heart, we find we plod
through aimless days and endless nights
as passersby will waive or nod.
We battle with internal fights,
engaged in what we cannot win.
Through aimless days and endless nights,
we pray for things that might have been
if only time would change the course.
Engaged in what we cannot win,
we know we must embrace the source
when grief becomes our sad refrain.
If only time would change the course.
Although we try to hide our pain,
it’s harder at this time of year
when grief becomes our sad refrain
as passersby will waive or nod.
© Susan Schoeffield
Perfect title for this emotive and moving poem, Susan.
I find comfort in your words, Susan. Knowing this “routine” doesn’t make it any easier, but understanding it makes my less “angry”. Thank you again.
My thought exactly. I also like the use of “waive” here; it carries two layers of meaning, or so it seems to me.
A poignant poem. The festive mask is so hard to wear sometimes.
How poignant, and well written, Susan.
[…] for the 12/10/14 prompt at Creative Bloomings “Inform Poets” to write a […]
My sympathy for your family.
I appreciate your thoughtfulness, Barbara. We will carry on knowing our friends have our backs.
Hugs and prayers to you and your family, Walt!!
Henrietta, you know I’ll take all the hugs and prayers you send and pass them along to the family. Thanks for your kindness.
Love and prayers for you and yours, Walt and for John…the strength to let go. ♥ Peace.
❤ John continues his stubborn ways. He still hangs on. He does grow weaker, but maintains his grip on this life! He's a good man.
It’s amazing – the will to carry on – warm blessings as he and you all traverse this fine line. ♥
ONE STEP FORWARD,
TOO MANY STEPS BACK
Wars have been fought since time began.
The victors who gain the spoils?
Eventually those countries lose it all.
Nations live in constant tension
Neighboring countries will attack
The victors who gain the spoils.
Why can’t all nations opt for peace:
Provide for the people, and not fear
Neighboring countries will attack?
Perhaps it’s just an ego trip.
Nations want to look good. They could
Provide for the people, and not fear.
War expenditures are so high.
Charity should begin at home.
Nations want to look good. They could.
Charity should begin at home.
Wars have been fought since time began.
Charity should begin at home.
Eventually those countries lose it all.
#
So many truths here, Sal. Expressed so well.
A wonderful piece, Salvatore. As Hannah said, truth lives here! W.
Oh how I wish we could live without borders, without conflict. Your poem gets to the root of the problem,
Amen.
Looks like we were on the same page, Sal. Good writing.
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Two Winged Things
What untruth has come to perch
in pavilion of an unknowing ear –
what unspoken reality lies in the lurch?
What fact is hidden by growing fear?
Dread is fierce – a fire-breathing dragon
in pavilion of an unknowing ear.
Stretch of story becomes a siren
there’s no such thing as a simple secret…
dread is a fierce fire-breathing dragon.
Is it merely human foible – just a weakness?
Maybe this false-telling is an encoded trait…
there’s no such thing as a simple secret.
Untampered tale will find you, it’s fate –
freedom’s found in dove’s wingbeat of peace.
Maybe this false-telling is an encoded trait
but dragon and dove are within reach.
What untruth has come to perch?
Freedom’s found in dove’s wingbeat of peace.
What unspoken reality lies in the lurch?
Copyright © Hannah Gosselin 2014
Exceptional writing, my dear! And the message is much needed in this tumultuous world in which we live. Thank you!
Thank you so much! :)’s
Truth is often overlaid with lies, we can only pray for peace.
True story, Viv.
Wow. This is profound, and gently fierce, in my opinion. Wonderful.
“Gently fierce,” I love the juxtaposition of this! Thank you for such a generous comment, William and a “wow,” as well – my heart is truly warmed!
Sadly true, and beautiful, Hannah.
Walt, Thank you for sharing this private information and emotion with us. I doubt poets feel more pain than others, but we do manage to relive it in our words. Your pain and concern for the others around you was easily read in your poem. Prayers.
Patricia, I am thankful for all these comments by such incredible poet-friends. We understand and feel each others pain in the words we convey. To say what is in the heart is where we all start to express the poetic beauty we all embrace. You know I tend to let it all “hang out”, why stop now!
Terzanelle in B flat minor
Impromptu intermezzo,
evening music fills the air
from Italianate terrazzo
for the lonesome millionaire,
a bittersweet reflection…
Sorrowful music fills the air
as smarting from rejection,
he asks will music mend his solitude,
in pitiful reflection.
Deserted man in pensive mood,
trying to forget, asks
will music mend his solitude,
bring back la bella Rosetta?
Still fretting for his vanished love,
attempting to forget
that he’s bereft of
impromptu intermezzo,
still regretting his lost love
in his millionaire palazzo.
I love the sounds in this. It has an operetta feel to it, in my view.
You’ve worked magic of this form, Viv…it flows so gracefully and the mood of the piece is consuming. Great job!
This flows like a musical piece, Viv!
VIGIL
The waiting is the hardest part
but memories can ease the way
as one life ends and others start
their journeys on life’s grand foray.
The pain is real and will not go
but memories can ease the way
toward acceptance as they flow
from mind to heart in blessed stream;
the pain is real and will not go
but neither will the fervent gleam
that life dispenses on its course
from mind to heart in blessed stream.
I hear him say, “Have no remorse;
go on, be gay, exult in all
that life dispenses on its course.
Just so you know, I had a ball.”
The waiting is the hardest part.
“Go on, be gay.” Exult in all
as one life ends and others start.
copyright 2014, William Preston
You’re in my thoughts, Walt. Steady as you go.
This is so touching, William…what a tender and emotive – such a wise piece of poetry this is. Comforting. Beautiful work.
Healing and loving, William.
Beautiful, and a great philosophy.
As Christmas is to be the most celebrated time of the year, i myself still feel like there was something stolen from me. Not once but twice, on the same day December 20th,,20 years apart from each other. I find that a celebration of what their lives had to offer, brings me peace Another year goes by and I’m grateful to not have to go through it again, but the memory lives on and on and on….. My thoughts and prayers find their way home to you and your family ,my dear Brother, my dear Friend . Much Love.
Mom passed the 24th, was “taken” the 22nd. But stolen all the same.
Time To Wake Up
A way to achieve peace is,
spend earmarked war funds here at home.
Provide education, and food so hunger ceases.
Enact new laws simply written, not overblown
that everyone understands.
Spend earmarked war funds here at home.
We have homeless vets; take a stand.
This is a shameful condition
that everyone understands.
All our people should have good nutrition;
decent living is our citizens’ right.
This is a shameful condition.
When will our leaders see the light?
Stop spending money to continue wars.
Decent living is our citizens’ right.
Do not send our soldiers on extra tours
A way to achieve peace is,
Stop spending money to continue wars.
Provide education, and food so hunger ceases.
Hear, hear!
Thanks, William.
Amen. The disjointed rhythm of this is absolutely right for the important and painful message you are proclaiming.
Thanks, Viv.
Shannon Creek Park
There was a park called Shannon Creek
A sheltered place within the shade
There was a park called Shannon Creek
The memories have come to fade
Those times when I was just a kid
A sheltered place within the shade
I think of all the things we did
We swam and fished and played all day
Those times when I was just a kid
With country music on display
And horseshoes ringing in the air
We swam and fished and played all day
Small children swinging, with no care
The hot dogs sizzling on the grill
And horseshoes ringing in the air
Of fun and food we had our fill
There was a park called Shannon Creek
The hot dogs sizzling on the grill
There was a park called Shannon Creek
A happy memory, Connie.
A lovely dose of nostalgia, which makes for an enjoyable read.
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