The Terza Rima is a verse form consisting of tercets, usually in iambic pentameter in English poetry, with a chain or interlocking rhyme scheme, as: aba, bcb, cdc, etc.

The pattern concludes with a separate line added at the end of the poem (or each part) rhyming with the second line of the preceding tercet or with a rhyming couplet. Note: The rhyme sound which carries from the middle line of each tercet to the opening line of the next tercet provides a strong sense of forward movement to the terza rima.

ODE TO THE WEST WIND By Percy Bysshe Shelley
 
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 wintry bed

The wingèd 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!

Thou on whose stream, mid the steep sky's commotion,
Loose clouds like earth's decaying leaves are shed,
Shook from the tangled boughs of Heaven and Ocean,

Angels of rain and lightning: there are spread
On the blue surface of thine airy surge,
Like the bright hair uplifted from the head

Of some fierce Maenad, even from the dim verge
Of the horizon to the zenith's height,
The locks of the approaching storm. Thou dirge

Of the dying year, to which this closing night
Will be the dome of a vast sepulchre,
Vaulted with all thy congregated might

Of vapours, from whose solid atmosphere
Black rain, and fire, and hail will burst: oh, hear!

Thou who didst waken from his summer dreams
The blue Mediterranean, where he lay,
Lull'd by the coil of his crystalline streams,

Beside a pumice isle in Baiae's bay,
And saw in sleep old palaces and towers
Quivering within the wave's intenser day,

All overgrown with azure moss and flowers
So sweet, the sense faints picturing them! Thou
For whose path the Atlantic's level powers

Cleave themselves into chasms, while far below
The sea-blooms and the oozy woods which wear
The sapless foliage of the ocean, know

Thy voice, and suddenly grow grey with fear,
And tremble and despoil themselves: oh hear!

If I were a dead leaf thou mightest bear;
If I were a swift cloud to fly with thee;
A wave to pant beneath thy power, and share

The impulse of thy strength, only less free
Than thou, O uncontrollable! If even
I were as in my boyhood, and could be

The comrade of thy wanderings over Heaven,
As then, when to outstrip thy skyey speed
Scarce seem'd a vision; I would ne'er have striven

As thus with thee in prayer in my sore need.
Oh, lift me as a wave, a leaf, a cloud!
I fall upon the thorns of life! I bleed!    

A heavy weight of hours has chain'd and bowed
One too like thee: tameless, and swift, and proud.

Make me thy lyre, even as the forest is:
What if my leaves are falling like its own!
The tumult of thy mighty harmonies

Will take from both a deep, autumnal tone,
Sweet though in sadness. Be thou, Spirit fierce,
My spirit! Be thou me, impetuous one!

Drive my dead thoughts over the universe
Like withered leaves to quicken a new birth!
And, by the incantation of this verse,

Scatter, as from an unextinguish'd hearth
Ashes and sparks, my words among mankind!
Be through my lips to unawakened earth

The trumpet of a prophecy! O Wind,
If Winter comes, can Spring be far behind?

Hey, LorII

Were you asking yourself, Shelley or shall 'e not offer one here?

(Probably not)

Well, I thought I'd share this one as a tribute to PK's newest Mod, Dylan's Pen:

Enters a Reem o’ Paper

I bummed a ride with James; we cruised the town,
and still there was no stir.  The place was dead.
A burg like this could bring the happiest down!

A thousand words seem dancing in my head.
Enters a ream o’  paper.  Not one stirs
to offer me a thing I might have said.

I muse of James and car; the engine purrs,
but still we go nowhere.  Is this a curse?
Expending energy like this – yet only whirrs.

Imagining a scene that could be worse
seems quite impossible. Are tired old minds
thus destined to come up without a verse.

Annoyed perhaps by silence, James now winds
back through the streets to drop me back at home.
Along the lonely way, I’m shocked he finds

a “Thank you!” for his poor-companion gnome.
It’s him I have to thank.  He mused this pome!

© Daniel J Ricketts 24 August 2002

I'm merely posting presently to help in the discussion of Don's current post for crit.

Lightly bumping, Daniel  :sun:

Hi Daniel!

TY for bumbing this! I have never tried a TR and I know there is one recently posted in Herme's...

Now as for yours above - a deLightful read!

A thousand words seem dancing in my head.
Enters a ream o’  paper.  Not one stirs
to offer me a thing I might have said.

I can relate! :block:

The gnomes are at it again!.....  :p

HUGS
Cleo

This is my first attempt and just a rough draft.

Sweet Enchantress ~ Terza Rima

O come to me within my castle walls,
my sweet enchantress, do not flee our love;
emotions tumble hard while caught in squalls.

Do not wrench my heart with smiles conceived of
feigned adoration for this foolish soul,
for words of glass shall break and die thereof.

I lie abed each night to then extoll
your countless virtues; private thoughts seem bold,
unbidden passions fly out of control.

Awaiting your arms as desires unfold
like rosebud petals worshipping the sun.
The winds grow still as we cross the threshold

where souls entwine and two hearts become one.
As love's soft ribbons weave 'round us we're bound
together forever, our rhythm sung.

My sweet enchantress, love has depths profound;
with your hand in mine, untouched joy be crowned.

Cathy Bollhoefer
copyright Sept2005

Time De-filed

I finished one more file; I had to stop
to take a breather, read a gentle poem
before my hands go numb or eyes go POP!

There’s little danger I’ll tip jeroboam,
but this could really drive a guy to drink;
another month before my house is home.

The more I do the more they want, I think,
but thus far I have taken it in stride —
though once or twice they pushed me to the brink.

I want to do it right… still keep my pride —
but not the kind that swollen heads maintain;
so far there’s peace where egos could collide.

Too long, this paperwork has been my bane
but once I get on top of it, I’ll sail
on gentler winds… and walk without disdain.

One file, one hour, one moment tips the scale;
with balanced patience, I know I’ll prevail.

© Daniel J Ricketts 12 Oct 2005

Hi Daniel,
Good to see another wry entry in the R&M files, too ...  :wave:
Best wishes
Fran

Hi Daniel

Good to see you posting again.  I hope you are winning the paperwork battle.

Nina

Hey Daniel,

I marvel at your talentt and skill and how you bring character to form and rhymes of poetry. Excellent story line, done in a difficult form...done well.

Best Regards, Liz