Still coping with Ms Cope....

Regular readers of this trash pile will know of my admiration for the poetry of Wendy Cope.

Her ability to 'write for women', whilst secretly knowing that men will read too and squirm in recognition, never ceases to make me smile and yes, squirm.

It took me a long, long time before I could forgive her for rhyming Byronic with ironic, to say naught of tonic - but what the hell do I know - I'm a man.

In the light of myself and several fellow bloggsters dipping a toe into the poetry pool, and speaking personally, I couldn't help but be amused by this poem.

Triolet

by

Wendy Cope

I used to think all poets were Byronic--

Mad, bad and dangerous to know.

And then I met a few. Yes it's ironic--

I used to think all poets were Byronic.

They're mostly wicked as a ginless tonic

And wild as pension plans. Not long ago

I used to think all poets were Byronic--

Mad, bad and dangerous to know.

With a history going back at least to the thirteenth century, triolets are short, usually witty poems.

The name comes from the repetition of the key line three times (French "tri").

Of the triolet's eight lines, the first line is used three times and the second line is repeated once.

So the requirement for rhyme words is easy, and the eight lines really come down to only five different ones - easier than it seems at first - possibly!...grinning.