In May, I invented a new form I called the Scala Decima. Yesterday, I thought it might be fun to introduce its mirror twin, the Scala Decima Inversa. The rules are simple: Go down the staircase backwards.
- 10 lines;
- 10 syllables per line (iambic pentameter if you can manage it);
- rhyme on syllable that corresponds to the last line number (i.e., the tenth syllable of the first line sets the rhyme; ninth syllable of second line, eighth syllable of third line, seventh syllable of fourth line, and so on continue it);
- the rhyming syllable can occur anywhere within a word and need not be the whole word.
City Noise
An example of the Scala Decima Inversa poetry form. This was harder than I expected it to be, and not a pleasure to write. But I would never want to ask or suggest you try a thing I wasn’t willing to do, myself. Good luck with this.
Warm, gentle rain that muffles city streets below - incessant hustle, noise. E-train's on time. A whoosh, a thousand feet rush in, soles clattering on concrete, rising din a contrapuntal beat reverberates on iron tracks. Heat rises, industry goes on, replete with tired workers, faceless, like Magritte's "The Son of Man," they dare not take a beat to rest, for families like theirs eat food to live, while factories live to eat.
E-train’s a bit of a cheat, here, but it fit the theme. That’s the thing – knowing when to intentionally sacrifice a “rule” to make the thing work at all.
“Factories” is technically one syllable too long, but do we say “fac-to-ries” or “fact-ries”? Elision is a time-honored (some would say time-worn) poetic device; if I were living in the 18th or 19th century, I might’ve written “fact’ries” but James Matthew Wilson suggests modern poets avoid marking elision and trust the reader to read the line as intended. So I am trusting you, dear Reader, to read it as “fact’ries.”
As an experiment, I fed the rules to ChatGPT to see if AI is a serious threat to human poets, yet. I’ll let you be the judge. I’ll give it this – it followed the rules.
The hush of evening gathers growing LIGHT We drift along by night to find LIGHT there Soft whispers rise as hopes now LIGHTen souls In dusk we stand and breathe LIGHT near night’s end Under summer soft LIGHT we walk at peace We move through dark LIGHT and trust the still air The stars grow LIGHT as shadows slip beyond At dawn LIGHT pours gently over the hills In LIGHT we trust the waning night to fade LIGHT we rise to greet the calm renewed day
Your Turn!
Try your hand at writing a poem in the Scala Decima Inversa form. Can you write one that’s better than ChatGPT’s? (C’mon, you know you can!) Feel free to post it in the comments or leave a comment with a link to where we can find your poem.
This was as complicated as you warned! I quickly learned that iambic pentameter is practically impossible, because your rules require the stressed syllable to change on each line, if also attempting to stick to the style of Shakespeare’s Sonnet 18.
I decided to go with a theme and have fun that way. Here is my poem:
https://morphodesigns.com/sand-between-your-ears/
Thanks for sharing this challenge!
Cheers,
Mitch
A good choice! And a wise plea at the end. It would be interesting to explore the human fascination with not just the idea, but the attempt to bring it to fruition, of creating a simulacrum of ourselves that might render us superfluous once and for all.
And yet, the irony: the simulacrum will create life in a petri dish and reboot the cycle.
I can actually imagine this! AI has been helping us create new materials, both organic and inorganic. Would our fictitious overlords do a better job than our “parents”, Nature and Evolution?
Cheers,
Mitch