Tzara
Continental
- Joined
- Aug 2, 2005
- Posts
- 7,745
For some time, I’ve been toying with the idea of starting a thread about meter and rhythm in poetry. I’ve kept putting if off because I couldn’t think of how to structure it in a way that encouraged discussion.
I’m sorry to say that I still haven’t thought of a good way to do that, so what you’re gonna get is me pontificating about the topic with the sincere hope that people will manage to turn this into a discussion despite me.
It’s probably going to start out looking like a lecture (with homework, sorry) but it’s all really only my opinions about the topic. It's not like I have a PhD in the subject, or even that I have watched a lot of PoetryTV. I am probably wrong. Usually, I am. Please offer your own opinions, which are likely to be both better developed and more coherent than mine.
And always, always, feel free to whack me upside the head if I’m being stupid. Well, when I’m being stupid. Which will be, like, often.
Whew.
Anyway. Let’s get started—meter.
My experience is that when we’re talking about meter, we are talking about a very specific and formal and (mostly) restrictive pattern of stressed and unstressed syllables in a line. The number of stressed syllables determines the “number” of the meter—whether lines are trimeter (three beats per line), tetrameter (four), pentameter (five), or something else. In a pentametric line (yeah, I like big words, even when they are neologisms), you have five beats, or emphasized syllables. Think of Shakespeare:
The other component of meter is the metrical foot. A pentametric line is composed of five metrical feet, however they are defined. (There is, of course, some loosey gooseiness about this, but it’s so confusing that it’s a never you no mind kind of thing.)
The metrical foot is the basis of meter. English has several common metrical feet: the iamb (unstressed syllable followed by stressed syllable, as in “attempt”), the trochee (other way around, as in “apple”), the anapest (unstressed, unstressed, stressed), the dactyl (stressed, unstressed, unstressed), the spondee (stressed, stressed) and the pyrrhic (unstressed, unstressed). Probably others. Those are all my books wanted to talk about.
To make a poetic line, you combine the foot with the meter. So iambic pentameter is a line of five units of unstressed followed by stressed syllables:
I am not, unfortunately, sophisticated, so what I want to start out with as discussion is two poems, or, actually, parts of two poems: the beginning lines of Joyce Kilmer’s “Trees” and of Samuel Taylor Coleridge’s “Kubla Khan.”
All I would ask you guys to do (I stupidly feel like I assigning homework here—you of course do not need to do this) is read these two examples. Read them, as much as you can, simply as rhythm. React to them simply as rhythm—though I do want you to pay some attention to the words. Just not too much attention.
Anyway, here’s the samples:
Both of these segments are, to my ear, iambic tetrameter (the first four lines of Coleridge only, of course): That is, lines composed of four iambs—i THINK that I shall NEVer SEE, and so on.
So to the comment thingie, where I abjectly whine for other people's comment. Read these two excerpts and think about them primarily from the standpoint of rhythm. What’s different, if anything, about them? Tell me about it. Tell me about whatever, for that matter (keeping on writerly topic, of course).
There absolutely are no wrong answers. It’s an exercise, folks. The only rule I insist on is that you be civil with your fellow authors. No insulting language, please, though feel free to disagree.
Chat, please.
Chat. Please.
Please?
I’m sorry to say that I still haven’t thought of a good way to do that, so what you’re gonna get is me pontificating about the topic with the sincere hope that people will manage to turn this into a discussion despite me.
It’s probably going to start out looking like a lecture (with homework, sorry) but it’s all really only my opinions about the topic. It's not like I have a PhD in the subject, or even that I have watched a lot of PoetryTV. I am probably wrong. Usually, I am. Please offer your own opinions, which are likely to be both better developed and more coherent than mine.
And always, always, feel free to whack me upside the head if I’m being stupid. Well, when I’m being stupid. Which will be, like, often.
Whew.
Anyway. Let’s get started—meter.
My experience is that when we’re talking about meter, we are talking about a very specific and formal and (mostly) restrictive pattern of stressed and unstressed syllables in a line. The number of stressed syllables determines the “number” of the meter—whether lines are trimeter (three beats per line), tetrameter (four), pentameter (five), or something else. In a pentametric line (yeah, I like big words, even when they are neologisms), you have five beats, or emphasized syllables. Think of Shakespeare:
But soft! What light through yonder window breaks?
When you look at how that line is pronounced, paying attention to the stressed and unstressed syllables, you end up with this, at least if you read it the way I do (unstressed in lower case, stressed in upper case):
but SOFT, what LIGHT through YONder WINdow BREAKS?
Five stressed syllables, so pentameter. (That’s actually oversimplifying things, but we’ll leave that for now.)
The other component of meter is the metrical foot. A pentametric line is composed of five metrical feet, however they are defined. (There is, of course, some loosey gooseiness about this, but it’s so confusing that it’s a never you no mind kind of thing.)
The metrical foot is the basis of meter. English has several common metrical feet: the iamb (unstressed syllable followed by stressed syllable, as in “attempt”), the trochee (other way around, as in “apple”), the anapest (unstressed, unstressed, stressed), the dactyl (stressed, unstressed, unstressed), the spondee (stressed, stressed) and the pyrrhic (unstressed, unstressed). Probably others. Those are all my books wanted to talk about.
To make a poetic line, you combine the foot with the meter. So iambic pentameter is a line of five units of unstressed followed by stressed syllables:
da DAH da DAH da DAH da DAH da DAH
But soft! What light from yonder window breaks?
This gets more complicated, as you might imagine, with more sophisticated schemes.But soft! What light from yonder window breaks?
I am not, unfortunately, sophisticated, so what I want to start out with as discussion is two poems, or, actually, parts of two poems: the beginning lines of Joyce Kilmer’s “Trees” and of Samuel Taylor Coleridge’s “Kubla Khan.”
All I would ask you guys to do (I stupidly feel like I assigning homework here—you of course do not need to do this) is read these two examples. Read them, as much as you can, simply as rhythm. React to them simply as rhythm—though I do want you to pay some attention to the words. Just not too much attention.
Anyway, here’s the samples:
(from) "Trees"
by Joyce Kilmer
I think that I shall never see
A poem lovely as a tree.
A tree whose hungry mouth is prest
Against the sweet earth's flowing breast;
Sorry. Only a fragment, because I want to introduce the semi-isomorphic equivalent:by Joyce Kilmer
I think that I shall never see
A poem lovely as a tree.
A tree whose hungry mouth is prest
Against the sweet earth's flowing breast;
(from) "Kubla Khan"
by Samuel Taylor Coleridge
In Xanadu did Kubla Khan
A stately pleasure-dome decree:
Where Alph, the sacred river, ran
Through caverns measureless to man
Down to a sunless sea.
Well, yeah. Five lines versus four. I have a reason for that, which we'll talk about later.by Samuel Taylor Coleridge
In Xanadu did Kubla Khan
A stately pleasure-dome decree:
Where Alph, the sacred river, ran
Through caverns measureless to man
Down to a sunless sea.
Both of these segments are, to my ear, iambic tetrameter (the first four lines of Coleridge only, of course): That is, lines composed of four iambs—i THINK that I shall NEVer SEE, and so on.
So to the comment thingie, where I abjectly whine for other people's comment. Read these two excerpts and think about them primarily from the standpoint of rhythm. What’s different, if anything, about them? Tell me about it. Tell me about whatever, for that matter (keeping on writerly topic, of course).
There absolutely are no wrong answers. It’s an exercise, folks. The only rule I insist on is that you be civil with your fellow authors. No insulting language, please, though feel free to disagree.
Chat, please.
Chat. Please.
Please?