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What is a Synthetic Ode?

The synthetic ode is a three part poetic form that is inspired by the ancient Greek Pindaric ode and the dialectic of thesis, antithesis, and synthesis. Before explaining the synthetic ode, I think it makes sense to talk about the Pindaric ode from which it is inspired.

Some Background

The Pindaric ode consists of three strophes (or stanzas), the first two being isometric to one another called the strophe and antistrophe and the last being metrically independent called the epode. As was customary for the time, Pindar wrote his odes as occasional poems, and intended them to be performed on stage, with a left chorus singing the strophe, a right chorus singing the antistrophe, and an orator reciting the epode. As such, these were also called choral odes. More detail can be found at Encyclopaedia Britannica online.

Around the time I encountered the Pindaric ode I also stumbled across the dialectic of thesis, antithesis, and synthesis, and it occurred to me that some variant of the ode form and this approach to dialectic were a match made in heaven. However, I was not interested in using the medium of poetry to introduce, contradict, and resolve an argument. I saw a much broader and more abstract application for these three principles that could be refined and applied to the use of poetic expression. They could be used to visually and symbolically explore contrasts (theses and antitheses) followed by an exploration of how these contrasts complement one another or combine to create a whole (syntheses).

Contrasts can be anything. For instance, a basic contrast could involve colors, such as black and white. The synthesis of this contrast could be grey. Yet the colors themselves might symbolically serve as a vehicle for any number of meanings—a white wedding, a black funeral, a grey disposition. A more complex contrast and synthesis could involve two individuals, a man and woman for instance, whose personalities, interests, and/or idiosyncrasies complement and/or complete one another. Two examples of this approach can be found in my poems “Ode for Joy” and “Coming Together.”

One important characteristic of the synthetic ode as I’ve conceived it is ambiguity. This should ideally force the writer to use imagery and metaphor to explore the contrasts and their syntheses.

Now that we have a sense of the inspiration and premise behind the synthetic ode, let’s delve into the structure of the form as I’ve conceived it.

Form

The synthetic ode is defined by both structural and semantic rules. The structural rules derive in part from the original structure of the Pindaric ode, but also include elements intended to help facilitate the exploration of contrasts and their syntheses. I think this is important because such rules create a challenge that forces the poet to rise to the occasion, inspiring a conscious refinement of language and flow.

The semantic rules are essential to what I feel should be the depictive nature of the form. Without them the poet can just say whatever he or she feels and thinks without actually exercising some of the the more abstract, aesthetic, and visually expressive attributes of language such as imagery, metaphor, and symbolism. These rules are also intended to promote the use of abstract language, which should hopefully create a surrealist feel, thus ensuring a strong, visually potent outcome. So bear this in mind as you study the rules below, whether you’re reading this article to better understand the idea behind the form or to learn how to try your own hand at it.

Structural Rules

The synthetic ode is always titled.

It is organized into three individual poems we can refer to as segments.

Since this is an ode variant, the segments can also be referred to by their position within the poem, the first being the strophe, the second the antistrophe, and the third the epode.

Individual segments are not subtitled. Instead, they are headed by an alphanumeric marker such as 1, 2, and 3; A, B, and C; I, II, and III; etc.

The strophe and antistrophe can be in any format, so long as they are metrically identical to one another, line for line, syllable for syllable.

So if the strophe contains three quatrains, the first in iambic pentameters, the second in trochaic tetrameters, and the last in anapestic hexameters, then the antistrophe will be structured the exactly the same.

This is no easy feat, especially if the segments get long and the meters become unusual and complex. But, done well, the effect can be absolutely striking.

The epode can be in any format, so long as it does not replicate the format of the strophe/antistrophe.

This can be subtle, such as using a Petrarchan sonnet for the epode while using Shakespearean sonnets for the strophe/antistrophe, as I did with “Coming Together,” or this can be much more dramatic such as using what on first glance looks like free verse for the strophe/antistrophe and tetrametric quintains with patterned end-line parallelisms for the epode, as I did with “Samsara.”

The key is to do something different for the epode.

No single line can be longer than the octameter.

I believe that lines longer than an octameter effectively break the mold of a given form and leave the realm of poetry for prose. This restriction is stated for the sole purpose of hopefully maintaining the integrity of the synthetic ode.

For each segment, there is at least one point of parallelism for every two lines, preferably more.

So if your segment is 16 lines long, it will contain at least 8 points of parallelism.

This can manifest in any number of ways, but to give a concrete example for reference, end-line rhyme between two lines would count as a point of parallelism. So, in the case of a 16 line segment, if you were to use end-line rhyme for all your points of parallelism, the lines could be organized into 4 quatrains, each using the abab rhyme scheme to give you 8 points of parallelism.

But rhyme is just one out of many possibilities. Parallelisms can also be semantic (like “mind,” “thought” and “id”) or any of the various alternatives to rhyme, such as with frame rhyme (“spring” and “sprung”). Potential parallelisms far exceed these simple examples.

For the strophe and antistrophe, parallelisms are not restricted to the scope of their own segments. This means they may occur between the segments.

There are ample examples of this in my poem “Samsara.” Just read the strophe and antistrophe in tandem and the parallelisms that exist between them will leap out at you.

Each synthetic ode must be unique in structure.

This is to say that one author should never use the same structure twice. As I understand it, this was actually a characteristic of Pindar’s choral odes. So in a way there is an element of free verse involved despite the rules and restrictions placed on the form because the structure must be arrived at in a spontaneous manner each time one is written.

Semantic Rules

No first person personal pronouns are used anywhere within the poem.

The idea is to remove one’s self as a direct frame of reference, making it much easier to expand the thought, insight, understanding, observation, meditation, etc. behind the subject matter in a more fluid and expansive manner than could ever be managed if the main subject were one’s self.

Second and third person personal pronouns are permitted, however, as these may be sometimes be essential to the content.

The strophe uses imagery and metaphor to introduce and explore a thesis, on any subject.

This is not a thesis in the logical sense, but a subject of focus that becomes the first half of two contrasts.

To provide two examples, in “Samsara” the strophe explores birth—or coming into being—and in “Transmogrification” it explores the innocent, creative wonder of a child.

The antistrophe uses imagery and metaphor to introduce and explore an antithesis.

Again, not in the sense of logic or dialectic. The antithesis here develops a contrast to the thesis, which can be an opposing force, an opposite meaning, a contrasting aesthetic, and so on.

Extending the example from the previous point, the antistrophe in “Samsara” explores death—or going out of being—while in “Transmogrification” it explores the addictive violence and desensitizing effects of modern video games.

The epode attempts to in some way use imagery and metaphor to synthesize the contrasts set forth by the thesis and antithesis.

Here the goal is not to resolve an argument or reveal some fundamental truth, but simply to explore some aspect of the contrasts relative to one another. This could involve unity, conflict, complement, involvement, resistance, or endless other interactions between the contrasts.

Concluding the examples from the previous two points, “Samsara” explores impermanence as a synthesis for birth and death—coming and going—while “Transmogrification” explores a soldier on the field of battle as a synthesis for the creative wonder of a child and the interactions children have with violent video games.

There’s no question that this is a complex art form. What makes it so is as much to do with the rigid structure as with the freedom one still has within its framework. The synthetic ode is intended to facilitate the creation of “art poetry.” This is to say, poetry for poetry’s sake, not just for the sake of spewing out personal opinions and feelings. Yet the hope is that those who take an interest in exploring this form will also manage to bring it down to earth to create immersive, thought provoking, emotionally charged poetry.

I would say the main challenge with this form is the unveiling of relevant, poignant contrasts that can be presented and explored using imagery and metaphor. The secondary challenge no doubt is inventing a new form that feels somehow natural and inevitable to the subject matter while at the same time maintaining accentual isometry between the strophe and antistrophe.

Definitely peruse the synthetic odes I have posted here at Form and Formlessness to gain further insight into the form. Also feel free to post links to any synthetic odes you write in the comments. As its creator, I’m likely to read and give feedback on how well I think the poem adheres to the structure and spirit of the form.

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Samsara

Birth. Death. Impermanence. Samsara. Samsara is a concept I was exposed to and learned about during my late teen years. At first, the notion of a never ending cycle of birth and death—coming and going—was somehow a comfort to my thoughts. But as I’ve meditated on the concept over the years, it’s become less and less of a comfort and I begin to grasp the value in learning how to find one’s way out of this never-ending stream of coming and going.

Here I reflect on the coming, the going, and the impermanence of it all. This is my 6th synthetic ode.

Samsara

i

Roiling coiling boiling
             beyond memory dreams
   phase and shift in amniotic mists
         swirl in the silence of pulsation
      swim in the stillness of song and dance

Slowly gently gradually
   sensations coalesce illuminating
shapes only somewhat guessed before
      till time takes hold and presses
long hard strained contractions
         bearing breath into the light
      where lungs expel a fluid reverie
   and struggle with thin arid vapors of life

Now spry pink fingers fan out
            new translucent maple leaves
      that ball and bob and grasp
         at each candescent moment
   each ray of raw potential
               emerging from the void

ii

Ailing paling failing
             beyond hope of recall
   yesteryears evaporate like mists
         drift in and out of apprehension
      drone in the absence of conscious thought

Fiercely surely naturally
   perception dissipates into a darkness
shapes only somewhat recognized
      as time slows down and shuffles
somber strained abstractions
         toward an ever shifting shade
      where lungs expand in fluid misery
   and struggle at each dim sensation of life

Here sun browned fingers curl up
            frail exhausted walnut leaves
      that twist and creak and claw
         at brief pellucid moments
   at dreams of lost potential
               returning to the void

iii

An old oak grows on the side of a hill,
the side that faces the afternoon sun;
on the ground in the grass, her litterfall
has collected around her ancient trunk,
its bottommost layers turned back to soil.

A short distance away the blanched remains
of a sister lies rotting in the grass,
her wood resculpted by late autumn rains
and frosts that covered her corpse with a glass
that deepened the wedges along the grain.

The old oak rises, the last of her kin;
her trunk is split and a third of her limbs
in perpetual winter scrape like bone
the progression of ever changing climes—
the blistering azure, the thunder’s groan.

In the shape of a crescent moon, decay
has collected around her knobby base,
the twigs and branches that once would display
a green that shimmered now turning to waste
where skeletal shadows reach out and pray.

Another third is beginning to wane,
the crown has turned to a light mottled shade
and the leaves have begun to curl and thin
where, before, a reflective glimmer played
like fairy folk dancing within the sun.

She is old; she was old when condors soared
in the skies that revolve above her leaves;
for centuries she has weathered the storms
that lumber in from the watery weaves
which pattern the sandscapes of distant shores.

Her time is near, as it nears for us all;
the vibrancy of her youth has been lost
to the powerful change that claims us all,
yet she faces the end and bears the worst
with a grace that exists within us all.

So here part i explores birth, or coming into being; part ii explores death, or going out of being; and part iii explores impermanence, or the stream of beingness. Most of the parallelisms in parts i and ii exist between the two segments. You may find it an interesting experience to read parts i and ii at the same time, line by line.

Another thing that may catch your attention as you read is that part iii uses an entirely different style than the first two parts. Everything about it is different. Parts i and ii read like free verse while part iii reads more like a piece of classical poetry. This is intentional. This is meant to jar the senses by jabbing a sliver of “impermanence” under the fingernail of thought.

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Spark

This, my 5th synthetic ode, has proven itself a difficult thing to write. I’m not really sure why. I think maybe it has to do with the insights behind the content being somewhat beyond the reach of words—Of language.

Spark

This poem has been published in my book an inkling hope: select poems, available in Kindle and paperback formats. Out of consideration for those who have purchased a copy, I have removed it from this post and online viewing in general.

The metaphor I’ve attempted to explore here is the coalescence of being and the spark of beingness.

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Coming Together

I have known Kayla for nearly ten years, since she was maybe 13. Now in about a week she’s getting married already. We met at a site centered on interactions around the subject of poetry. I don’t quite remember how we started talking, but it of course involved the subject of poetry. I do remember that for years she would ask me to task her with writing projects, which she would diligently work at and complete. Today she actually credits me with having taught her a lot.

A few months back, she asked me if I would commemorate her wedding with a poem, saying it would mean a lot to her. I’ve tried to accommodate her request. Hopefully she’ll like.

Coming Together

This poem has been published in my book an inkling hope: select poems, available in Kindle and paperback formats. Out of consideration for those who have purchased a copy, I have removed it from this post and online viewing in general.

This poem is a synthetic ode, my 4th. Since the synthetic ode can contain other forms within it, so long as certain semantic and structural guidelines are met, and since I was playing with sonnets anyway, this poem also contains my 7th and 8th Shakespearean sonnets (parts I and II), and my 1st Petrarchan sonnet (part III).

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Contrast

My third synthetic ode. I would like to eventually find the time and energy to write more. The first two parts are structurally isometric while the last has a structure of its own. Parts I and II focus on opposites, in this case the female (yin) and male (yang) energies, respectively. Part III explores a synthesis of the two.

Thesis, antithesis, synthesis—Using purely depictive language. All synthetic odes are done this way. It’s a time consuming process.

Contrast

This poem has been published in my book an inkling hope: select poems, available in Kindle and paperback formats. Out of consideration for those who have purchased a copy, I have removed it from this post and online viewing in general. However, the above player can still be used to listen to it.

I will at some point get around to writing an article on the synthetic ode, since I’m the only one who can explain it. It is my creation, after all. But first I want to write more such poems, so as to become completely clear about what elements of language and prosody must be present for a poem to be called by this name.

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Transmogrification

My second synthetic ode. Parts I and II represent antithetical aspects of a child’s development, first the creative wonder and exploration all children seem to enjoy, then the addictive violence and desensitization of modern video games. Part III presents the synthesis of these two, the soldier on the field of battle, ready to kill without hesitation or remorse.

Imagine, as you read, one voice—say a soft-spoken female voice—reading part I and a second voice—say a harsher male voice—reading part II. Then, as you read part III, imagine the two voices reading in unison.

Transmogrification

        I

Hazel eyes absorb a world of wonder,
    cities floating through the sky
  half concealed among the clouds,
    mermaids dancing in the sea
  half revealed among the foam,
    and camouflaged away from human sight
        elven nations thriving all around the world.
            Nimble hands explore
    paper wood and plastic,
          creating new inventions week by day.
        Supersonic aircraft zoom through hallway canyons
          and out across imaginary bays;
        coffee table cities rise among the couches
          busy with the sounds of industry; and
        stellar ships and space ports emerge from bedroom closets—
          precursors of a future yet to be.
 

        II

Stormy eyes absorb a realm of slaughter,
    cities rotting with the dead
  overrun by demon hordes,
    Gothic townships ever dim
  overwhelmed by zombie mobs,
    and everywhere, apocalyptic doom
        drowns imagination with visions of the slain.
            Frantic hands control
    pixels bent on trauma,
          with implements of every kind of war
        wielded to the hymns of personal damnation,
          gentleness made mad for battle-scores,
        shooting hacking slaying, all discrimination
          lost amid a growing thirst for more. And
        steadily the will to think and learn is narrowed
          to morbid rivulets of combat lore.
 

        III

                Steel gray eyes survey
            silent flesh and burning bone,
        columns pluming black against the darkness,
            cities rubbled with dismay,
        broken homes where broken mothers moan,
    brick and mortar scattered through a halflight
fraught with holy terrors lurking deep in shadow
and sensor-tripped explosives stashed along the roadways.
        Steady hands take aim,
    crossing foes between the rigid hairs
        of righteousness and training,
    a firm belief that killing in the hallowed name is fair
        ingrained through years of subtle inculcation.
            Calloused fingers stroke the edge of death,
    forever tense, prepared to deal
            the fatal strike that leaves the twitching dead
        left glaring up one final supplication.

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Ode for Joy

My first synthetic ode. This form hybridizes the near-original Grecian ode form of Pindar and the dialectic of thesis, antithesis, and synthesis. I will eventually write an article about this form and what I hope to accomplish through its exploration. For the time being, I hope you’ll find this an enjoyable, or at least interesting, read.

      Ode for Joy

      I

  Her eye was caught by a distant name,
    unfamiliar and yet not quite.
  Inspired, she followed a dream that came
    from somewhere deep in her quiet heart,
a link that led to an unexpected hope,
      born of intuitive sense
      cradled in bamboo song,
confirmed by a kindred voice that helped console
      the reign of a keen unrest
      that troubled her, unconfessed.
   Canticles from another time
         settled near
      in the curve of her ear,
   bringing a dark horizon light,
         raising the sun
      where a half-moon hung,
until her soul, embraced by vibrant hues
of promise, once again became her cherished home.
 

      II

  He felt the touch of a silken tongue
    brush his mind from across the world
  with observations and thoughts, half sung
    in accents cast from a dreamtime mold.
Intrigued, he listened to every tuneful word
      whispered with delicate breath
      soft as a moonstone breeze,
expressed from a place of enigmatic birth,
      where steady Pacific rains
      sang life in refined refrains
   straight to his heart through lays unknown
         to his ear,
      just abolishing fear,
   welcoming home forgotten hopes
         faded within,
      but arisen again
like morning rays on cloudscapes scattered far,
igniting new horizons to vibrant shades of faith.
 

      III

   Their pasts unravel thread
         into a bright new tapestry.
   They’re both reborn and dead
         to what was once and what will be.
      Visions leap before their view,
            revealing possibilities,
      and each is clear on what to do
            to make them actualities.
                     And so begins
                  the recreation of their lives
               as deep within
            a transformation of their minds
         reveals the way
      to stand forever side by side.
        The best thread of their days is used
             in the shuttle of their unity
        to weave a scene they know by trust
             on a loom of shared serenity.

Joy is my fiance, whom I met online purely by chance. She, from her life in the Philippines, one day stumbled across a poem I had posted elsewhere, “Perfect Silence”, and found herself researching its author. On one profile she found my Yahoo Instant Messenger ID, and on another she read that I work with children but don’t want to have any. Then she popped me a message out of the blue, “How could you work with children and yet not want to have any of your own?”

Needless to say, I was puzzled by this note from a complete stranger. I responded with one word, “Overpopulation”. This sparked a conversation—or perhaps debate—that lasted four hours. The next day we talked on the phone. The day after that, Skype. And we’ve been talking-talking ever since.