Poetry Dances

As one who writes mostly "free verse". I like to describe poetry as "words that dance'. Being free of rigid meter does not mean that one can get along without rhythm, but rather that one finds the rhythm in the cadences of ordinary speech rather than in prescribed formats. English is a marvelous language in which an interplay of the stresses of syllables, the timing of utterance, and the sounds of syllables all work together to produce a tapestry of sound to bring life to the thoughts and imagery. Poetry is not merely cerebral, but intensely physical as well. As a performance poet, I have found that, when I am reading, if I have caught the dance of the poem, my hand wants to bounce, or my feet to tap, or my body to sway. If this does not occur, and if it is my own work I'm doing, I know there is something wrong with the piece; or, if I am reading another's work, the lack of such motion shows me that I have not caught what the poet intended to be there. However one describes it technically, poetry dances.

--ed pacht

End Rhyme

Beginning poetry students often assume that their poems should have rhyme. If this is done poorly the resulting poem has a sing-song, nursery rhyme quality. Contemporary poets generally avoid rhyme, especially end rhyme, for this reason. To the modern ear it sounds rather old fashioned. That is not to say end ryhme is bad. It can be done well, as in this sentimental poem by Joyce Kilmer.


A House with Nobody in It
Joyce Kilmer

Whenever I walk to Suffern along the Erie track
I go by a poor old farmhouse with its shingles broken and black.
I suppose I've passed it a hundred times, but I always stop for a minute
And look at the house, the tragic house, the house with nobody in it.

I never have seen a haunted house, but I hear there are such things;
That they hold the talk of spirits, their mirth and sorrowings.
I know this house isn't haunted, and I wish it were, I do;
For it wouldn't be so lonely if it had a ghost or two.

This house on the road to Suffern needs a dozen panes of glass,
And somebody ought to weed the walk and take a scythe to the grass.
It needs new paint and shingles, and the vines should be trimmed and tied;
But what it needs the most of all is some people living inside.

If I had a lot of money and all my debts were paid
I'd put a gang of men to work with brush and saw and spade.
I'd buy that place and fix it up the way it used to be
And I'd find some people who wanted a home and give it to them free.

Now, a new house standing empty, with staring window and door,
Looks idle, perhaps, and foolish, like a hat on its block in the store.
But there's nothing mournful about it; it cannot be sad and lone
For the lack of something within it that it has never known.

But a house that has done what a house should do, a house that has sheltered life,
That has put its loving wooden arms around a man and his wife,
A house that has echoed a baby's laugh and held up his stumbling feet,
Is the saddest sight, when it's left alone, that ever your eyes could meet.

So whenever I go to Suffern along the Erie track
I never go by the empty house without stopping and looking back,
Yet it hurts me to look at the crumbling roof and the shutters fallen apart,
For I can't help thinking the poor old house is a house with a broken heart.

Meter and English-Language Poetry

Since poets are now free to irregularly change the rhythms and sounds throughout a poem, they have many more choices to make with every word put on the page. T. S. Eliot said in his essay "The Music of Poetry" in 1942 that "no verse is free for the man who wants to do a good job", and, although written 60 years ago, it still holds true. The early 20th century changed forever the way we look at poetic form, but the traditions of sound and meter still hold a firm place in the poetic arts.

The words sound and meter are difficult to define and have many different aspects. Because of these difficulties, perhaps it is useful to think of these terms in the language of metaphor. If you think of the aural elements of a poem in terms of musical notation, you could think of meter as the rhythm created by the words (the horizontal movement of a piece of music, cutting up time into bigger or smaller increments) and sound as the notes of the piece of music (or the vertical movement, repeating sounds and syllables to create a "melody.") Each of these two elements are complex and require an in-depth definition. First, let's start with meter.

To "meter" something is to "measure" it (the word meter itself is derived from the Greek for measure), and there are four common ways to view meter.

Syllabic: A general counting of syllables per line.

Accentual: A counting of accents only per line. Syllables may vary between accents.

Accentual-syllabic: A counting of syllables and accents.

Quantitative: Measures the duration of words.

Of the ways of looking at meter, the most common in English are those that are accentual. English, being of Germanic origin, is a predominantly accentual language. This means that its natural rhythms are not found naturally from syllable to syllable, but rather from one accent to the next. There may be one, two, or three syllables between accents (or more, but this is a matter of debate). For this reason most English language poets opt to look at their own meter as accentual or accentual-syllabic. The former is the more common; adherence to the latter often leads an English language poet toward self-conscious verse, as their predictable rhythms are counter to natural English speech (not that it is impossible to create great verse with this technique, but there is a tendency for it to end up so).

Read it all here.

Writer's Block? No Problem!

Even if they manage their time and follow writing guidelines, many writers will still experience a time when the words just won't come together, when they are simply "stuck" and can't think of anything to write. This is writer's block. Fortunately, a few helpful techniques make it possible to overcome the challenge of writer's block.

Experiment -- Try to write in different places, at different times, and with different writing instruments.

Freewrite - Choose one sentence in a paragraph and write a paragraph about it. Then choose one sentence from that paragraph and do it again.

Cluster - Choose key words and ideas; then write associated ideas and words in clusters around them. This process often forms new ideas.

Be flexible -- Be willing to throw out sections of text that are causing problems or just don't work.

Follow a routine -- Follow a routine to get into the writing mood. Try activities like wearing comfortable clothing, using a certain pen, or listening to a particular CD or type of music.

Move -- Physically move around, stretch, or walk.

Take a break -- Get a snack or drink, talk to someone, or just relax for five minutes before starting to write again.

Concentrate -- Focus on a different section or aspect of your paper. This sometimes leads to new insights in problem areas, while allowing you to get work done on another section.

Re-read -- Read a print draft of the paper and jot down ideas while reading.

Relax! -- The more you worry, the harder it gets to think clearly.

From here.

John Scalzi Speaks to Young Writers

I’m going to talk to you about writing as straight as I can; there’s a possibility that some of what I say to you might come off as abrupt and condescending. I apologize in advance for that, but you should know that I sometimes come off as abrupt and condescending toward everyone, i.e., it’s not just you. Also, I hope you don’t mind if I don’t go out of my way to use current slang and such; there’s very little more pathetic than a 36-year-old man dropping slang to prove he’s hip to the kids. I own a minivan and the complete works of Journey; honestly, from the point of view of being cool, I might as well be dead. You might find what I have to say useful anyway. Here we go.

1. The Bad News: Right Now, Your Writing Sucks.
It’s nothing personal. When I was a teenager, my writing sucked, too. If you don’t believe me, check these out: A short story I wrote in high school, and (God help us all) the lyrics to a prog-rock concept album I wrote in my first year of college. Yeah, they suck pretty bad. But at the time, I thought they were pretty good. More to the point, at the time they were also the best I could do. No doubt you are also pounding out stories and songs to the best of your ability… and chances are pretty good that your best, objectively speaking, isn’t all that good.
There are reasons for this.

a) You’re really young. Being young is good for many things, like being flexible, staying up for days with no ill effects, not having saggy bits, and having hair. For writing deathless, original prose, not so much. Most teenagers lack the experiential vocabulary and grammar for writing well; you lack a certain amount of perspective and wisdom, which is gained through time. In short: You haven’t yet developed your true writing voice.

Now, if you’re really good, you can fake perspective and wisdom, and with it a voice, which is almost as good as having the real thing. But usually, sooner or later, it’ll catch up to you and your lack of experience will show in your writing. This will particularly be the case when you have a compelling, emotional story, which would require the sort of control and delivery of your writing that you only get through time. You may simply not have the wherewithal to express your very important story well. Yes, having a great story you’re not equipped to tell pretty much bites. Normally, this is when teens look for help from the writers they admire, which brings us to the next reason your writing sucks:

Read it all here.

Dorothy Sayers' Last Morning in Oxford

LAST MORNING IN OXFORD
Dorothy L. Sayers

The great poets . . . . are not at the pains of devising careful endings. Thus, Homer ends with lines that might as well be in the middle of a passage." -- H. Belloc.

I do not think that very much was said
Of solemn requiem for the good years dead.

Like Homer, with no thunderous rhapsody,
I closed the volume of my Odyssey.

The thing that I remember most of all
Is the white hemlock by the garden wall.

June 23rd, 1915.

From here.


Related reading: Dorothy Sayers' The Lost Tools of Learning; Response to Sayer's Lost Tools of Learning; More on Sayers and Classical Education

Dante's Creed

Here is Dante's beautiful and powerful credal statement in Paradiso, Canto 24 (lines 130-147).

And I respond: In one God I believe,
Sole and eterne, who moveth all the heavens
With love and with desire, himself unmoved;

And of such faith not only have I proofs
Physical and metaphysical, but gives them
Likewise the truth that from this place rains down

Through Moses, through the Prophets and the Psalms,
Through the Evangel, and through you, who wrote
After the fiery Spirit sanctified you;

In Persons three eterne believe, and these
One essence I believe, so one and trine
They bear conjunction both with sunt and est.

With the profound condition and divine
Which now I touch upon, doth stamp my mind
Ofttimes the doctrine evangelical.

This the beginning is, this is the spark
Which afterwards dilates to vivid flame,
And, like a star in heaven, is sparkling in me.