Poetic Constellations



2017 Poetry Form Challenge

#14 Terza Rima Sonnet

The Italian form Terza Rima itself is of indefinite length, using three-line stanzas or tercets. The original sonnet version is simply four, three line stanzas and ends with a couplet that links back to the first stanza.

Although purists state all sonnets should be Iambic Pentameter, that is the requirementonly for English Sonnets only. Otherwise any meter or line length may be used, as long as all the lines are of the same length and meter. (The modern multsylabic language may give the appearance of unequal length).

The rhyme scheme is that line 2 of each stanza rhymes with lines 1 and 3 of the following stanza, creating an interlocking pattern. In the final stanza, both lines rhyme with line 2 of the preceding tercet.

The Terza Rima sonnet has the following rhyme scheme,
A1. b. A2... b. c. b... c. d. c... d. a. d... A1. A2.

Sweet Thunder

Such sweet, heavenly thunder as we kiss
My heart pounding loudly thumping
As our mouths unite in heavenly bliss.
Such sweet thunder, your heart beating
As our hands explore the pulsing heat
Pressing wildly against me throbbing
Uniting, filling, moving to the loving beat
Eyes half lidded as my hands caress you
Thrusting hard against me, bodies meet
Whimpering, crying as tremors run through
Hugging closely through descending hotness
Hearts still beating, beating, loving, true
Such sweet, heavenly thunder as we kiss
As our mouths unite in heavenly bliss.

Ryter Roethicle
Although the closure is often a repeat of the first stanza couplet, from the 19th Century began to ignore this repeat and whilst Robert Frost repeated the first line and rhyme in "Aquainted with the Night", Shelley just terminated with a couplet linked to the previous stanza, as shown below;

The emphasis should always be that there are 14 united lines as per sonnet requirements. If it is presented having the appearance of a 14 line Terza Rima, then it will remain a Terza Rima, NOT a sonnet. This rule also applies to any other form of sonnet.

Ode to the West Wind.

O wild West Wind, thou breath of Autumn's being,
Thou, from whose unseen presence the leaves dead
Are driven, like ghosts from an enchanter fleeing,
Yellow, and black, and pale, and hectic red,
Pestilence-stricken multitudes: O thou,
Who chariotest to their dark wintery bed
The winged seeds, where they lie cold and low,
Each like a corpse within its grave, until
Thine azure sister of the Spring shall blow
Her clarion o'er the dreaming earth, and fill
(Driving sweet buds like flocks to feed in air)
With living hues and odours plain and hill:
Wild Spirit, which art moving everywhere;
Destroyer and preserver; hear, oh, hear!

Percy Bysshe Shelley


Terza Rima Sonnet Challenge Replies

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Terry Clitheroe

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Believe in Dragons
Freedom
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Rain in the Bush
Unquiet Thoughts
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Terry Clitheroe

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Believe In Dragons

Believe in dragons, so that they may live again.
The time is ripe now that we may live a fantasy
For cannot fantasy and reality be the same?
Cannot we believe and see what we want to see
For dragon lore was once the part of norm.
Amidst our deepest dreams the dragons be.
Lording over land and sea, the golden gentle form
Magic helped the reigned lord to keep his control,
Knightly lore was blackest deed and truth was torn
Evil deeds and wicked tricks caused this to boil
Dragons slaughtered and lied about to evils gain
Causing this wondrous beast to hide from all.
Believe in dragons, so that they may live again.
For cannot fantasy and reality be the same?



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Freedom

The sounds of the captured city wakens me
Even before dawn, slaves hasten to the wills
Of invisible masters that state what shall be.
But I ignore that noise, and slumbers skills
Erase what pain they caused, and eases my mind
Finding myself again among Avalon's hills.
I appreciate how my dreams are being kind,
But will cast them aside and join the slaves
That are considered to be normal mankind.
Now I hear the traffic going past in loud waves
As I go about my morning rites feeling free
Realising that they are digging early graves
The sounds of the captured city have woken me
But I have no masters that state what shall be.



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Rain in the Bush

The rain sounds so different here
Not strident, with insensitive calls,
But clean and pure and oh so clear.
Singing through the leave as it falls,
No one complains about being wet through
The forest sounds like empty halls.
The breeze it brings, scented and new
No stench from roads where diesels pound
Or poisonous smoke from factory flue.
The raindrops gently seep into the ground
It does not stagnate in puddles austere
Where rather disgusting smells abound
The rain sounds so different here
So clean and pure and oh so very clear.



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Unquiet Thoughts

Sunrise does not a summer make
Nor does the sunset say goodnight
The two whilst the same journey take
Have very different heights of flight.
The red sun we love to see with setting day
Is considered the shepherds delight
And the sailor also feels the same way
He has no need of storms and the like
Not even objecting to a sky that's grey
What he fears is the lightning's strike
Foamy seas and the mountainous wave
The spiralling foam and twirling spike.
This kind of thing does the sailor brave
Or in failing finds an early watery grave.



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Noreen Whittaker

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Poetic Constellations