Trimeric: Poetic Form

Here’s one final poetic form before the November PAD Chapbook Challenge: Trimeric! Check back in December for more poetic forms.

Trimeric Poems

I’ve really been having fun trying out new (to me) poetic forms recently, but I think the trimeric may be one of my faves. Invented by Charles A. Stone, the rules are pretty simple:

  1. Trimeric has 4 stanzas
  2. The first stanza has 4 lines
  3. The other three stanzas have 3 lines each
  4. The first line of each stanza is a refrain of the corresponding line in the first stanza (so 2nd stanza starts with the second line, third stanza starts with the third line, etc.)

Note: No other rules on line length, meter, or rhyme.

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Here’s my attempt at a Trimeric:

About Superheroes, by Robert Lee Brewer

The thing about being a superhero is
you never get to be with the person you love
for more than a couple story lines. It’s almost
like being a superhero is a cruel curse.

You never get to be with the person you love,
because they’re being kidnapped or killed or you find
out they’re the bad guy you’ve been slugging it out with

for more than a couple story lines. It’s almost
as if your personal life is a magnet for
drama, though that’s what got you here in the first place–

like being a superhero is a cruel curse,
but you continue to show up even when no
one knows you’re saving them, because you know you can.

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Robert Lee Brewer is Senior Content Editor of the Writer’s Digest Writing Community and author of Solving the World’s Problems (Press 53). Follow him on Twitter @RobertLeeBrewer.

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13 thoughts on “Trimeric: Poetic Form

  1. Rosemary Nissen-Wade

    Crowded House Live on the Opera House Steps

    In my living room
    I who think I have no beat
    tap my feet, my hands drum.
    I who think I am tuneless hum along.

    I who think I have no beat
    sway in time, nod my head, see on TV
    the live audience nodding in unison.

    Tap my feet, my hands drum,
    I’m right out of body-consciousness now,
    I’m more in my body than I’ve ever been.

    I who think I am tuneless hum along.
    Lights throb, smoke billows, Nick dances.
    On stage and off, the melodies rise and fall.

  2. Kasey

    THROUGH THE VEIL
    by Kasey Wilson

    All that he touched with his hands became stale.
    For years, she chose to remain unaware
    while all the small joys in life went to waste
    and every sweet breeze was leeched from the air.

    For years, she chose to remain unaware
    of how foods she once savored had no taste
    and evening sunsets were dull and pale.

    While all the small joys in life went to waste,
    she coasted along and tried not to care.
    The day she escaped, she told me her tale.

    And every sweet breeze was leeched from the air
    but she feels them again ‘cause he’s not there
    with her now that she’s made it through the veil.

  3. Walter J Wojtanik

    WHEN LOVE COMES TO CALL

    Opportunity has knocked,
    the winds of change have blown.
    But, a heart in flux can’t get enough
    when love comes to call.

    The winds of change have blown,
    bringing something new to a life
    that has waited for its coming.

    But, a heart in flux can’t get enough.
    It yearns for a touch, a caress,
    a longing kiss to steer its course.

    When love comes to call,
    will your heart be willing and accepting to
    a welcomed guest that might stay a lifetime?

    © Walter J. Wojtanik – 2016

  4. PressOn

    FORMAL FAINT PRAISE

    Trimeric!
    What a form:
    esoteric;
    anti-norm.

    What a form,
    that steals lines
    and yet can be

    esoteric;
    it’s hardly real,
    for it’s so

    anti-norm.
    It’s a form
    of prevaricating.

  5. taylor graham

    GOLD BUG LEGENDS

    The Vulture Claim, renamed the famous Priest,
    this Gold Rush mine was dug by Cornish hands,
    tough underground workers who left behind
    Tommyknockers, mischief-folk of legend.

    This Gold Rush mine was dug by Cornish hands
    as they listened to the deeps for whispered
    guidance: hidden seam of ore? a cave-in?

    Tough underground workers who left behind
    their hazards and hopes, with their homeland imps –
    to lie long-buried in the wooded hills.

    Tommyknockers, mischief-folk of legend
    and practical jokes – do they still survive
    in a hand-dug, haunted old Gold Rush mine?

  6. seingraham

    OH, HOW WE LOVE YOU, WE DO

    Our neighbours to the south are election-crazed
    Every late-night talk-show host’s enthused beyond reason
    hardly able to believe the insanity circus unfolding anew
    as if Barnum is touring again and three rings are not enough

    Every late-night talk-show host’s enthused beyond reason
    Laying off writers with wild abandon; the political fodder’s so rich
    The writers are biding their time; they know, it’s almost over

    Hardly able to believe the insanity circus unfolding anew
    the populace wakes stunned and wondering each morning
    Even north of the 49th, we pray for the chaos to end

    It’s as if Barnum is touring again and three rings are not enough
    Someone jokingly said, “they called and they want their circus back”
    The longer the race continues, the less funny the joke becomes

  7. B.D. Miller

    In The Winter

    in the winter I will claim defeat.
    saying, ” it’s just too cold.”
    my blood has thickened.
    It’s too hard to move.

    Saying, “it’s just too cold.”
    think I’ll check out Caribou
    turtle mocha latte- LARGE.- Please.

    My blood has thickened
    so has my flesh
    thinking I’ll join the club.

    It’s too hard to move
    too many men
    and what is this contraption?

  8. Anthony94

    7 Highway

    Sumac burns along the ridge
    each leaf a flame ignited by cool nights
    as chlorophylls recede replaced by reds
    to warm in winter’s dusky waning light.

    Each leaf a flame ignited by cool nights
    this staghorn sumac greets the kindred deer
    who roam to nibble at frost burned delights.

    As chlorophylls recede replaced by reds
    the trees in turn blaze as their kind persuades
    while squirrels cut limbs and hie to make their beds

    to warm in winter’s dusky waning light.
    Oh that we’d gather bunches, take them in
    to kindle heart and hearth, a memory bright.

  9. taylor graham

    THE NEIGHBORS SAY NO

    Shall the old Gold-Rush era ditch be paved,
    the public water now piped underground?
    The hand-built ditch that carried snowmelt down
    to the mines, to separate rock from gold –

    the public water now piped underground.
    What good is that to deer and cougar, fox
    and bear who come here thirsty for the flow?

    The hand-built ditch that carried snowmelt down,
    and cold as mountain midnight, full of lore
    almost forgotten in our lowland towns.

    To the mines, to separate rock from gold,
    the water flowed. Free-flowing, whispering
    to trees, the heart of home, the forest soul.

  10. taylor graham

    GOLD BUG “SPOOK-TACULAR”

    The Vulture Claim, renamed the famous Priest,
    this Gold Rush mine was dug by Cornish hands,
    tough underground workers who left behind
    Tommyknockers, mischief-folk of legend.

    The Vulture Claim, renamed the famous Priest,
    will open for Halloween chills and thrills
    according to the morning’s newspaper.

    Tough underground workers who left behind
    their hopes of riches and their native imps –
    do they lie buried in the wooded hills?

    Tommyknockers, mischief-folk of legend
    and practical jokes – but what else might live
    in a hand-dug, haunted old Gold Rush mine?

    1. taylor graham

      A stanza got lost:

      GOLD BUG “SPOOK-TACULAR”

      The Vulture Claim, renamed the famous Priest,
      this Gold Rush mine was dug by Cornish hands,
      tough underground workers who left behind
      Tommyknockers, mischief-folk of legend.

      The Vulture Claim, renamed the famous Priest,
      will open for Halloween chills and thrills
      according to the morning’s newspaper.

      This Gold Rush mine was dug by Cornish hands
      as they listened to the deeps for whispered
      guidance: hidden seam of ore? a cave-in?

      Tough underground workers who left behind
      their hopes of riches and their native imps –
      do they lie buried in the wooded hills?

      Tommyknockers, mischief-folk of legend
      and practical jokes – but what else might live
      in a hand-dug, haunted old Gold Rush mine?

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