The following is a crash course in poetry and form. It is

The following is a crash course in poetry and form. It is intended just to give you an introduction to the subject. If you would like to learn more, you might consider taking English 222, “Introduction to Poetry.”

The poet Donald Hall said that poems have the effect they do on us because of certain qualities of language. He gave these qualities some funny names: Form in Poetry Goatfoot Note too that all of these qualities are PHYSICAL! Bonk baby Bonk baby Bonk-Bonk! Rhythm! Milktongue Sound and ORAL satisfaction, Yumm Twinbird The satisfying CLICK at the end when opposites are resolved; total form. Children LOVE goatfoot and milktongue. They haven’t yet learned to dislike or become indifferent to language! In fact, they utterly DIG language!

What makes poetry different from prose, in the most rudimentary sense? It’s in LINES! Well, usually. Ok, so how do you know where to break those lines? What principles govern line length?

Accentual Verse Line lengths determined by a consistent number of beats per line. In a summer season when soft was the sun I shaped me in shrouds In habit as a hermit as a shepherd I were unholy of works caesura or pause Went wide in this world wonders to hear

Accentual verse, as in the Old English, can be a bit wooden: BONK-BONK (pause) BONK-BONK (pause) But its simplicity and even courseness has its own beauty.

So, line lengths in poetry can be determined by a set number of beats or stresses. When you follow this principle, you’re writing accentual verse. Line lengths, though, can also be determined by other principles, such as a set number of Syllables When you do this, you’re writing syllabic verse. A famous Asian syllabic form of course is the Tanka is Japanese poetry with five unrhymed . HAIKU lines of five, seven, five, seven, and seven syllables. (5, 7, 5, 7, 7) Distant siren screams 5 syllables Dumb-ass Verne’s been playing with Gasoline again. 5 syllables 7 syllables

See our class library for more white trash haiku: REMORSE A painful sadness Can't fit big screen TV through Double-wide's front door DEPRIVED In WalMart toy aisle Wailing boy wants Barbie doll Mama whups his ass DESIRE Damn, in that tube-top You make me almost forget You are my cousin Oh yeah—don’t forget all the other resources in our class online library!

Syllabics aren’t really native to English, however, because . English is a Germanic language and heavily stressed. Syllable count in and of itself isn’t important to meaning. Stresses, on the other hand, can be FELT and are INTEGRAL to meaning:

Hey look at the white house. Hey look at the White House.

And yet another way of determining line length is: by counting BOTH stresses and syllables. This is called accentual-syllabic verse.

A unit comprised of a stressed syllable and its accompanying unstressed syllables is called a FOOT. iamb trochee anapest dactyl

pentameter A line with 5 feet trimeter A line with 3 feet hexameter A line with six feet And so on.

There are many patterns possible in accentual-syllabic lines: Iambic pentameter A line with 5 iambic feet dactylic trimeter A line with 3 dactylic feet trochaic tetrameter A line with 4 trochaic feet And so on.

Why do you suppose the IAMB is so important a foot in English poetry? Der!

that’s Goatfoot,honey! Rhythm Pattern Thrumming Throbbing the DRUM in your own body YOUR OWN PULSE

A traditional or “fixed-form poem” is a type which has one or more prescribed formal characteristics: a set rhythm, a set rhyme scheme, a set stanza length, etc. Some famous examples of fixed forms include: The sonnet The sestina The villanelle Blank verse

The art of losing isn’t hard to master; so many things seem filled with the intent to be lost that their loss is no disaster. Lose something every day. Accept the fluster of lost door keys, the hour badly spent. The art of losing isn’t hard to master. Then practice losing farther, losing faster: places, and names, and where it was you meant to travel. None of these will bring disaster. I lost my mother’s watch. And look! my last, or next-to-last, of three loved houses went. The art of losing isn’t hard to master. I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster, some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent. I miss them, but it wasn’t a disaster. --Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture I love) I shan’t have lied. It’s evident the art of losing’s not too hard to master though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster. One Art --Elizabeth Bishop This is an example of a villanelle. What prescribed formal characteristics does it have?

Time flies, and a year can go by in a day. Look at your watch. Do your eyes say 2:45 or 9:15? The more you have, the more you can give away. The More You Have to Lose You know the feeling, having no money, having to stay With relatives when you travel, unable to say what you mean: Time lies, and a year can go by in a day. –David Lehman When my father turned into my son, as in a play, All the fun took place offstage. What about the missing queen? The more you have, the more you can give away. The less you believe. The more you wish you could pray. Like a clock without hands, the truth of a face remains unseen. Time lies, and a year can go by in a day. With an elbow on the counter, and no passions left to sway, The all-night waitress smokes butt after butt, coughing in-between: The more you have, the more you can throw away. Ocean, what is on the other side of all that blue and gray? What does the grass know of yesterday's vanished green? Time lies, and a year can go by in a day. The more you have, the more you can give away.

I'm sorry, officer, I didn't see the sign Because, in fact, there wasn't any. I tell you The light was green. How much is the fine? First Offense Will the tumor turn out malignant or benign? Will the doctor tell us? He said he knew. I'm sorry, officer, I didn't see the sign. Not every madman is an agent of the divine. Not all who pass are allowed to come through. The light was green. How much is the fine? Which is worse, the rush or the wait? The line Interminable, or fear of coming fate? His anxiety grew. I'm sorry, officer. I didn't see the sign. I'm cold sober. All I had was one glass of wine. Was anyone hurt? Is there anything I can do? The light was green. How much is the fine? Will we make our excuses like so many clever lines, Awkwardly delivered? Never to win, always to woo? I'm sorry, officer. I didn't see the sign. The light was green. How much is the fine? —David Lehman

The sestina is a fun one The sestina is a poem in iambic pentameter, with thirty-nine lines, divided into six stanzas of six lines each, plus a terminal envoy of three lines. The same six words conclude the lines of each stanza, but their order is varied in each stanza according to a strict pattern. The final envoy also uses the six words, but three appear at the ends of the lines and three appear in the middle of the lines. In the graph below, each number represents a specific word.

Stanza I Stanza VI 2 4 6 5 3 1 on 3--Hope 6 Time 4 Below 1 Angel 2 Sandwich 5 Crave Stanza V 4 5 1 3 6 2 BTW, most people don’t write the sestina in pentameter; it’s already hard enough! so Stanza III 1--Angel 5--Crave 2--Sandwich 6--Time 4--Below 3--Hope 5—Crave 3--Hope 2 6 Stanza IV 1 4 nd a Stanza II 1--Angel 2--Sandwich 3--Hope 4--Below 5--Crave 6—Time Envoy 2---5 4---3 6---1

See this sestina collection.

Pantoums are also a kick Lines are grouped into quatrains (4-line stanzas). The final line of the Pantoum must be the same as its first line. A Pantoum has any number of quatrains. Lines may be of any length. The Pantoum has a rhyme scheme of abab in each quatrain. Thus, the lines rhyme alternately. The Pantoum says everything twice: For all quatrains except the first, the first line of the current quatrain repeats the second line in the preceeding quatrain; and the third line of the current quatrain repeats the fourth line of the preceeding quatrain. In addition, for the final quatrain, its second line repeats the (so-far unrepeated) third line in the first quatrain; and its last line repeats the (so-far unrepeated) first line of the first quatrain. Thus the pattern of line-repetition is as follows, where the lines of the first quatrain are represented by the numbers "1 2 3 4": 1234 2546 5768 7 9 8 10 9 3 10 1 Lines in first quatrain Lines in second quatrain Lines in third quatrain Lines in fourth quatrain Lines in fifth and final quatrain

Our lives avoided tragedy Simply by going on and on, Without end and with little apparent meaning. Oh, there were storms and small catastrophes. Simply by going on and on We managed. No need for the heroic. Oh, there were storms and small catastrophes. I don't remember all the particulars. We managed. No need for the heroic. There were the usual celebrations, the usual sorrows. I don't remember all the particulars. Across the fence, the neighbors were our chorus. There were the usual celebrations, the usual sorrows. Thank god no one said anything in verse. The neighbors were our only chorus, And if we suffered we kept quiet about it. Pantoum Of The Great Depression --Donald Justice At no time did anyone say anything in verse. It was the ordinary pities and fears consumed us, And if we suffered we kept quiet about it. No audience would ever know our story. It was the ordinary pities and fears consumed us. We gathered on porches; the moon rose; we were poor. What audience would ever know our story? Beyond our windows shone the actual world. We gathered on porches; the moon rose; we were poor. And time went by, drawn by slow horses. Somewhere beyond our windows shone the actual world. The Great Depression had entered our souls like fog. And time went by, drawn by slow horses. We did not ourselves know what the end was. The Great Depression had entered our souls like fog. We had our flaws, perhaps a few private virtues. But we did not ourselves know what the end was. People like us simply go on. We had our flaws, perhaps a few private virtues, But it is by blind chance only that we escape tragedy. And there is no plot in that; it is devoid of poetry.

Blank Verse from "Birches" Unrhymed iambic pentameter with no set number of lines. When I see birches bend to left and right Across the lines of straighter darker trees, I like to think some boy's been swinging them. But swinging doesn't bend them down to stay As ice-storms do. Often you must have seen them Loaded with ice a sunny winter morning After a rain. They click upon themselves As the breeze rises, and turn many-colored As the stir cracks and crazes their enamel. Soon the sun's warmth makes them shed crystal shells Shattering and avalanching on the snow-crust— Such heaps of broken glass to sweep away You'd think the inner dome of heaven had fallen. --Robert Frost Let’s analyze some lines on the board

Does form affect content? Does the sonnet or the sestina or the villanelle lead to a certain pattern of thinking?

Also, listen, NOT JUST for BEATS or metrics, but for SSSSSSSounds

SENSUAL SOUNDS AND TEXTURES Along with rhythm, they make up the sensual body of the poem.

Look at that Frost passage again

Often you must have seen them Loaded with ice a sunny winter morning After a rain. They click upon themselves As the breeze rises, and turn many-colored As the stir cracks and crazes their enamel. Soon the sun's warmth makes them shed crystal shells Shattering and avalanching on the snow-crust—

ice sunny soon sun's shed shells shattering snow SSSSSSSSnake sunny enamel nnnn & mmmm & nunderful! click colored KickKluckKlack breeze rises crazes ZZZZZZZuzu’s petals stir cracks crust ERRRRRiotous! and sssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

Root Cellar Nothing would sleep in that cellar, dank as a ditch, Bulbs broke out of boxes hunting for chinks in the dark, Shoots dangled and drooped, Lolling obscenely from mildewed crates, Hung down long yellow evil necks, like tropical snakes. And what a congress of stinks! Roots ripe as old bait, Pulpy stems, rank, silo-rich, Leaf-mold, manure, lime, piled against slippery planks. Nothing would give up life: Even the dirt kept breathing a small breath.

dank ditch dark dangled drooped dirt dank broke chinks dark necks snakes ripe silo lime piled life alliteration consonance assonance sleep cellar bulbs dangled lolling obscenely mildewed long yellow evil planks like piled tropical sleep roots ripe rank rich manure slippery dirt breathing breath tropical ripe pulpy piled slippery planks mildewed stems mold manure lime small Language that sounds like what it means; evokes feeling utterly in synch with meaning. long I-sounds plus L’s plus P’s and B’s and M’s LOTS OF LONG TROPICAL LOOPY SNAKY LIVES LOLLING IN BREATHY DANK AND MOLDY DARK!

Any form of sound pattern in poetry, really, is a form of RHYME True or exact rhyme the first or middle vowel and the final consonant of two words are exactly the same, but the final consonant, if there is one, differs: hat/cat Slant or partial rhyme the first consonant (if any) in two words is the same; the middle vowel is different; and the final consonant is the same: hat/heat ear/beer. ear/are. Assonance two or more words have the same vowel sounds: the pink breeze we need is free. Alliteration two or more words have the same initial consonant: huge hairy hungry hunk. Consonance two or more words have the same end consonant sounds: munch the batch of patched and crouching bitches.

And, finally

Nothing would give up life: Even the dirt kept breathing a small breath.

Feel the CLICK at the end of Roethke’s poem? That’s FORM ! That’s & the satisfying resolution or suspension of opposites, of tension.

Ok, so what is “free verse,” as the term is generally understood? Poetry with no form? Poetry with no constraints or prescriptions of any kind? Lines can be broken randomly, no patterns of sound or stress?

NOT! Free verse poems (good ones) always have TONS of rhythm and gorgeous sound patterns. These features simply aren’t prescribed in advanced of the poem, but are rather discovered in the writing of the poem. They are used more or less UNCONSCIOUSLY and intuitively. And they will of course tend to be less regular than in fixed forms. T.S. Eliot said that good free verse always had the ghost of meter behind it.

Free verse lines are typically broken according to the following principles:

Desire for a particular effect, ethos, feeling Smoothness and elegance, for example, with a spoken quality, whole sentences or complete phrases end-stopped He was completely and outrageously without a stitch of clothing. Or maybe roughness, a poem that “fights itself,” is less “spoken,” stuttery, broken against the syntax of the sentence, of the phrase enjambed He was Completely and Outrageously without A Stitch of Clothing. He Was completely and Outrageously Without a stitch of Clothing. Rhetorical emphasis and desire to stress particular words: He was completely and outrageously without A stitch Of clothing. Breath units He was completely and outrageously without a stitch of clothing. Visual emphasis

For a great poet who really jams with enjambs a lot see Robert Creeley

What determines stanza breaks in free verse? Each stanza is a verse paragraph, focused on a single topic or idea. Each stanza and its accompanying break is a unit of rhythm. Each stanza is a rhetorical gesture.

Free Verse Exercise The following is a free verse poem written out as a prose paragraph with all of the poet’s original line breaks removed. Read it and decide where you think the line breaks belong or would work best. I.e., on a piece of note paper, write it out as a poem with line breaks re-inserted. I’ll show you the original poem in class so that you can compare your choices with the poet’s.

The Mirror Watching you in the mirror I wonder what it is like to be so beautiful and why you do not love but cut yourself, shaving like a blind man. I think you let me stare so you can turn against yourself with greater violence, needing to show me how you scrape the flesh away scornfully and without hesitation until I see you correctly, as a man bleeding, not the reflection I desire.

The Mirror Watching you in the mirror I wonder what it is like to be so beautiful Lines all end-stopped and why you do not love (complete sentences or but cut yourself, phrases) shaving like a blind man. I think you let me stare so you can turn against yourself with greater violence, needing to show me how you scrape the flesh away scornfully and without hesitation until I see you correctly, as a man bleeding, not the reflection I desire.

If you have any questions about poetry and form, let me know!