Descort: Poetic Form

Recently, I shared 11 French poetic forms on the blog, but there are still many more to share, including today’s form: descort!

Descort Poems

The descort differentiates itself from other forms by differentiating its lines from other lines within the poem. That is, the main rule of descort poems is that each line needs to be different from every other line in the poem.

A descort poem has different line lengths, meters, avoids rhyming with other lines, no refrains, and that goes for stanzas as well. In other words, no two lines in a descort should look like each other, and the same could be said for each descort.

Note: This is different than free verse, because even free verse may occasionally have similar line lengths and meter. However, descort is very intentional in its variability.

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Here’s my attempt at a Descort Poem:

Daffodils, by Robert Lee Brewer

Daffodils don’t sway in the breeze or dance along the lane.
Frogs jump; dogs bark; logs sit.

Never ask a question of liars.
Always do whatever someone tells you to never ever do.
Cauliflower crowns.

And dandelion seeds spread in the wind because…

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Robert Lee Brewer is Senior Content Editor of the Writer’s Digest Writing Community and author of Solving the World’s Problems (Press 53). Follow him on Twitter @RobertLeeBrewer.

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7 thoughts on “Descort: Poetic Form

  1. Walter J Wojtanik

    JAMBALIAR

    Eating jambalaya with a fork,
    nobody fed the dog.
    I wished it were already Friday,
    my shoes feel a bit tight.
    You’d think I would’ve learned something in school.
    How about a back rub?

    Somewhere out there a guy has a flat
    tired of being used as a guinea pig,
    the clock ticks away,
    but ours is a sizable some!

    In winter the snow reaches up to my
    assumption that the grass is always greener.

    Can I offer you a drink?
    Pass the crushed pepper flakes.

    © Walter J. Wojtanik

  2. barbara_y

    I thought it might be a modern invented form, but no–this babe’s been giving headaches for a long time. Name’s an old French word for discord or discordant. Coming from a musical tradition, I doubt they were as herky-jerky as what I came up with. But it’s an interesting challenge, no?

  3. Tracy Davidson

    Conscience

    A flash of conscience.
    My son up-ends a jam jar to free the tadpoles.
    Grandpa takes a midday nap.

    My mom sees monsters in the shadows.

    That stink of stale cigar…
    How I’m reminded of why I left in the first place.

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