The Triolet

One of the elements most important to me in poetry is the sound. I have a definite taste for doggerel.

As a kid, I did myself a real favor by filling notebooks (literally) full of sonnets, rondeaux, whatever I could find. I didn't generate anything for the ages, but I did learn a lot about meter and sound.

Lately, I had the feeling everything I had learned about structure had kind of melted into advertising jingle. Advertising jingle is a nice feel for certain kinds of irony and frantic energy, but it isn't everything that I would like to achieve.

So when I ran across The Rondeau Roundup blog and its Triolet contest, it gave me a good excuse to practice again with a new form.

So for the last few weeks, every time I get a few minutes on a train or at night, I've been writing a triolet. Some of them are very bad. Some of them have promise. The exercise is the point. Getting to the moment where I internalize the voice of the structure is the point.

It may be the natural human need to justify how I spend my time, but this feels like a good idea.