The Teachers & Writers Handbook of Poetic Forms describes a triolet poem (pronounced tree-o-lay) as an eight-line poem with two rhymes and two repeating lines. The first line of the poem occurs three times (as in “tri” meaning three). It is repeated in the fourth and seventh lines. The eighth line repeats the second line, so that you get a formula that looks like this:
- A1 – original
- B2 – original
- A – rhymes with line 1
- A1 – identical to line 1
- A – rhymes with line 1
- B – rhymes with line 2
- A1 – identical to line 1
- B2 – identical to line 2
This French form is not widely practiced and few have been written in English until recent times. Perhaps it’s because triolet poems are not as easy to construct as one would imagine. The handbook offers that one might begin by writing down two lines that one would say to a friend in conversation, or to think of an object and construct two statements about it. After the two opening lines are in place, the writer can build from there.
Here is a triolet from the handbook. No poet is given attribution. The author of the handbook states only that the poem was written after the poet visited her mother in the hospital.
Triolet
A perfectly clear liquid like water flows out of the spine
Last night in the hospital this is what I saw
I don’t know where this fluid sits & what its design
A perfectly clear liquid like water flows from her spine
Does it move from her brain in a line?
The cool doctor draws it out with a straw
A perfectly clear liquid like water flows out of the spine
Last night, in the cold hospital, this is what I saw.
Notice the end rhymes and the rhymes that repetition creates. There is other internal rhyme as well. What else do you hear and see when you read this poem? I hope you’re reading it aloud. All poetry should be read aloud. Your ear can catch things that your eyes often miss.
Here is a great example of the triolet form by Thomas Hardy.
I’ve made an attempt at a triolet. You can read mine below.
Triolet for a Funeral
This morning, the blankets insulate like a womb.
Outside of their comfort the world is raw, uninviting.
The day holds misery, agitation, and gloom.
This morning, the blankets insulate like a womb.
For what reason should I ascend ─ and for whom?
Be it not to attend adjuring priests in their whiting.
This morning, the blankets insulate like a womb.
Outside of their comfort the world is raw, uninviting.
* * * * *
Now you give it a try! Point to your triolet in my comments section.
Learn about other simple poetic forms such as the Found Poem, Cento, Tanka, and Cinquain.
