Welcome to another edition of OGWiseman’s Stories!
This week’s entry is in the form of an Italian poem called a “terza rima”, which Wikipedia tells me means “third rhyme” (I do not speak Italian, obv). It’s called that because instead of traditional stanzas that exist independently, terza rima poems have 3-line stanzas that are interlocked by—hold on tight, this is shocking—a third instance of each rhyme that is shared between stanzas (you’ll see). Makes them hard to write, but gives them a really interesting flow!
This form of verse was pioneered by Dante Alighieri (the Inferno guy) in 1320 (!), and has been adapted by many, many of history’s great poets. The first English poet to use it was no less an eminence than Geoffrey Chaucer (the The Canterbury Tales guy), and the list of heavyweights does not stop there.
Often in English versions, the poem is restricted to 14 lines, but I’m going Dante-style today. Also, typically the poem will end with a couplet (2 lines), but I’ve expanded that to a quatrain (4 lines) because the overall poem is longer than typical English versions, and it appealed to my aesthetic sense.
As with the earlier poem I sent, please do take your time. This poem is, if anything, denser and more ambitious than the first. It’s under 1000 words, though, so I’m certainly hoping it won’t be a chore!
Last thing: To get this, you need to know that at the top of the Space Needle, in Seattle, there’s a restaurant. (Even people who don’t live near Seattle know that, right?) And with that, enjoy!
Space Needle, Table For Two
Two old men ate within the needle’s top
Seattle spread itself out far below
And as they waited for the check to drop
*
One to the other turned and said, you know
This modern world is a paradise
A never-ending, wonder-sending show
*
Our forebears could not have at any price
The meal you and I have just enjoyed
The very thought of manufactured ice
*
The varied culinary skills employed—
The speaking man seemed ready to say more
But his companion grunted, quite annoyed
*
You say we’re better off than days of yore,
The second diner scoffed unto the first
Which seems strange cause til just now I’d have swore
*
The time we’re living now might be the worst
For all this modern age’s brash appeal
I honestly believe that we are cursed
*
You vaunt the varied flavors of our meal
But I think of the suffering it cost
The grinding hardship of Industry’s wheel
*
The endless natural splendor we have lost
Not least the low-paid workers in the back
Who for a pittance make our salads tossed
*
But think of all the things they do not lack!
The first man broke in once more to protest
What if they have a sudden heart attack?
*
We have machines to open up their chest!
And kitchen hands are not denied these things
For being poor, you’re saying they’re oppressed?
*
When in the olden days, even the Kings
Whose tickers broke down and refused to tick
Were fitted for a pair of angel wings
*
And sent off with hopes their end would be quick
On measure after measure it’s the same
When best to live is just not hard to pick
*
So what of wild nature put to flame?
The second man unto the first impressed
I note that despite all you tried to claim
*
That part of my response went unaddressed
How can our life a true utopia be
When all the things that make you count us blessed
*
Are turning Mother Earth into debris
And dooming all our future to the heap
The first man boomed a laugh and slapped his knee
*
This world was never something we could keep!
One day all this will fall into the sun!
And if we’d never crawled out of the deep
*
Had man’s evolving never first begun
The animals, the plants, the earth in all
Would not in any case its fate outrun!
*
It’s what we make of this blue, spinning ball
That gives a meaning to its hopeless plight
Our feasting, frothing, vain, rapacious sprawl
*
Defines a day before the endless night
And though we burn this world to make our art
It has no greater use than for our might
*
The second man put his hand to his heart
And said that may be, what you say is sound
It’s possible that on some fancy chart
*
The poorest of us live as if they’re crowned
But knowing this is no salve for my mind
For suffering and sadness still abound
*
This I am doomed to know, but not to find
An answer that can solve the world’s woes
That helpless knowing is a Hell, defined
*
And all the human greatness that arose
So that we here could live and eat our fill
This city spread below us in repose
*
Cannot the knowledge of dystopia kill
Utopia? Bah! With all my painful thoughts?
It cannot be! I’ll die upon this hill.
*
The first man said friend, you’re tied up in knots
And too much knowledge can disturb the soul
But even a utopia allots
*
Some things which we can know but not control
Perfection is a chalky, tasteless food
A butter-less and chewy dinner roll.
*
But we must face our fate with gratitude!
And if you don’t assent, why are you here?
The second man said, now you’re being rude
*
I’m not! The first man shouted in his ear
Much louder than he’d spoken up til then
Some nearby diners seemed to overhear
*
And looked askance towards the two old men
But they paid no heed to the sideways eyes
Instead the first man queried once again
*
If you think all the storied, dazzling rise
Of humankind has brought us to a Hell
Then why come to this restaurant in the skies?
*
And why at all in fair Seattle dwell?
When surely somewhere else that’s far away
Would help your overburdened soul to quell?
*
The second man confessed he could not say
And sat in silence, his face turning red
As then the waiter dropped their check to pay
*
By just two eyes alone the bill was read
For here’s the turn: Of all the aforesaid
It was just one man, talking in his head
Half jubilant and half possessed by dread
END
Thanks so much as always for reading!
If you enjoyed this story, please like it, leave me a comment, and/or share it with a friend or on your social media!
Have a great week and I’ll be back next Sunday with something fun.
Such an interesting and difficult rhyme scheme to pull off, but it’s fantastic! Great ending, (sadly) very relatable.