Commercial Poetry

Sunday, June 30, 2024

The Outerview Series: Part III - What is Rhythm?

       In our first two outerviews we defined poetry as verbatim speech whose audience is all but limited to song lyrics. It makes sense to begin by learning about poetry that can most easily be converted to song.

      Over the last thousand years all successful English language poems have incorporated rhythm. This has usually involved meter, which facilitates the addition of music to create song.

     "And what is 'meter'?"

      Meter is the quantification of something in order to segment the poem.

     "And what are those things being quantified?"

      It could be a number of things. In classical Greek verse and song it is tempo--the time it takes to say or sing a line. In the latter case, the same number of bars and beats each line. When that drum is struck the word being spoken is highlighted. Stressed. Even if it wouldn't normally be.

      Let's have you read aloud the text onscreen:

      "You carry the weight of inherited sorrow from your first day till you die toward that hilltop where the road forever becomes one with the sky."

       That was a natural enunciation of these words. It's how you'd say them in a speech or a recital. Now let's listen to Bruce Cockburn sing these lyrics from "The Rose Above the Sky" (at top):

You carry the weight of inherited sorrow
From your first day till you die
Toward that hilltop where the road
Forever becomes one with the sky

        So, what have we learned so far?

       "With song, it's all about the beat."

       Close enough. That need to have every line take the same length of time is called "quantitative" meter.

       Now, going back to quantifying, here are three other things that can be counted: alliterations, accents, and feet. Check out these two lines from DPK's "Leaving Santiago":

We come from | a nation | of cowards | and corpses
both roll down | the river | en route to| the ocean.

       This is alliterative verse--something that goes back to before 1066--because there are three repetitions of an initial sound of a stressed syllable in each line: two on one side of midway, one on the other; three hard "c" sounds in the first line, three "r" iterations in the second.

       The same two lines could be considered accentual, with the same number of stressed syllables--four, in this case--in each line. N.B.: In accentual meter the unstressed syllables don't matter.

       Finally, these two lines illustrate the most recent evolution of meter: accentual-syllabic. This deals in feet: typically, a stressed syllable and one or two unstressed ones in a particular order. In this case, it is a pattern of four "de-DUM-de" soundings called "amphibrachic tetrameter":

We come from a country of cowards and corpses
both roll down the river en route to the ocean.

      "Is 'amphibrachic' anything like 'iambic'?"

      Yes, in a "right church, wrong pew" way. Iambic is a binary because it has two components: an unstressed syllable, then a stressed one (de-DUM). It sounds like marching. Amphibrachs are trinary because they have three: de-DUM-de. It sounds like hopping. Here is a chart of all the cadences and meter lengths, of which iambic is by far the most common:

============================ Meter Types ===========================

Beat   Name
   uu = Pyrrhic    (aka Dibrach)
   uS = Iamb        = Marching
   Su = Trochee     = Imperative (aka Choree)
   SS = Spondee
uuu = Tribrach
Suu = Dactyl      = Waltzing
uSu = Amphibrach = Hopping        Metres:
uuS = Anapest     = Galloping      Monometer = 1 foot
uSS = Bacchic                        Dimeter = 2 feet
SuS = Amphimacer (aka Cretic)       Trimeter = 3 feet
SSu = Antibacchic                 Tetrameter = 4 feet
SSS = Molossus                    Pentameter = 5 feet
uuuu = Proceleusmatic               Hexameter = 6 feet *
Suuu = First paeon                 Heptameter = 7 feet
uSuu = Second paeon                 Octameter = 8 feet
uuSu = Third paeon
uuuS = Fourth paeon    * Hexameter = "alexandrine" if iambic.
uuSS = Ionic a minore
SuuS = Choriamb
SSuu = Ionic a maiore              Stanzas:
SuuS = Antispast                   2 lines = couplet
SuSu = Ditrochee                   3 lines = tercet
uSuS = Diiamb                      4 lines = quatrain
uSSS = First epitrite              5 lines = cinquain
SuSS = Second epitrite             6 lines = sestet or sixain
SSuS = Third epitrite              7 lines = septet
SSSu = Fourth epitrite             8 lines = octet or octave
SSSS = Dispondee
uSSuS = Dochmios

"S" = Stressed (or, more accurately, "long" in the original Greek)
"u" = unstressed (or, more accurately, "short" in the original Greek)

======================================================================

      Some poems or songs can have more than one meter. In fact, 4 iambs followed by 3 iambs in so common that it is literally called "common meter":

Amaz|ing grace | how sweet | the sound
that saved | a wretch | like me.
Was lost, | but now, | I'm found;
was blind, | but now | I see.

      "So we want our lines the same length or lengths."

       And durations. Correct. And we have names for each kind: "isometric" if all of the lines the same length, "heterometric" if the lines come in different lengths.

      "Will this be on the test?"

Next: What is rhythm?

The Outerview Series

Sunday, June 23, 2024

The Outerview Series: Part II - Where is poetry?

In our first outerview we established that poetry is a mode of speech, coming about because audiences feel the words are worth preserving in memory verbatim.

Our next question is: "What happened to poetry? Where did it go?"

Two centuries ago the average literate person knew hundreds of poems and hundreds of songs. Most of the latter may have come from church attendance. Today, the average literate person can sing along to thousands of songs but not recite a single poem written in the last half century.

Before performing her song, "Motherland", in this video Natalie Merchant interrupts herself to say: "Oh, this is a poem by Natalie Merchant." Here are the lyrics, with some color added to highlight some of the repeated sounds, including rhymes:

[Verse 1]
Where in hell can you go
Far from the things that you know
Far from the sprawl of concrete
That keeps crawling its way
About one thousand miles a day?

[Verse 2]
Take one last look behind
Commit this to memory and mind
Don't miss this wasteland
This terrible place, when you leave
Keep your heart off your sleeve

[Chorus]
Motherland, cradle me
Close my eyes
Lullaby me to sleep
Keep me safe
Lie with me
Stay beside me
Don't go
Don't you go

[Verse 3]
Oh, my five-and-dime queen
Tell me what have you seen?
The lust and the avarice
The bottomless, the cavernous greed
Is that what you see?

[Chorus]
Motherland, cradle me
Close my eyes
Lullaby me to sleep
Keep me safe
Lie with me
Stay beside me
Don't go

[Verse 4]
It's your happiness I want most of all
And for that, I'd do anything at all, o mercy me!
If you want the best of it or the most of all
If there's anything I can do at all
Now come on, shotgun bride
What makes me envy your life?
Faceless, nameless, innocent, blameless, and free
What's that like to be?

[Chorus]
Motherland, cradle me
Close my eyes
Lullaby me to sleep
Keep me safe
Lie with me
Stay beside me
Don't go
Don't you go

The music couldn't be much simpler and the singing adds immeasurably to the experience. Note the repeated sounds: rhymes, assonance (i.e. vowel sounds), consonance (i.e. consonants) and alliterations (i.e. at the beginnings of words). These make the poem easier to remember. As memory aids called "mnemonics". We remember the choruses because they are repeated but which verse do we remember most? Might it be the most colorful one, with the most sound repetitions?

        Would this work as spoken verse?

      "Why would anyone want to hear a song without its music?"

      Great question! With the introduction of radio in 1923 people could listen to music 24/7. This was much more convenient than going to a saloon, church, or music hall.

      Think of how many lyricists you know.

      "Isaac Brock, Max Martin, Sly Stone, Claudio Sanchez, Barry Mann, Justin Vernon, Lana Del Rey--"

       I'd have gone with Leonard Cohen, Bob Dylan, Ferron, and John Prine, but your list is fine. Now, how many 21st Century poets--not counting lyricists--can you name?

       Crickets.

       Really? Okay. How many 21st century poems can you recite?

       More crickets.

       In the shower or while playing air guitar, how many 21st century songs can you butcher?

       "Jillions!"

Alright. So which should we learn first? Metered verse, which can be turned into songs, or free verse, which aren't? Something with billions of listeners worldwide or something with virtually none?

"Is this a trick question?"

         No.

        "Then meter, of course!"

        Good choice. We'll need to learn about rhythm, which we call "scansion", and sounds, which we call "sonics", including rhyme.

        "Can we learn about slams? My friends say they're a lot of fun."

        We can have you competing in slams within a few weeks. As for fun, that is another of Pearl Gray's paradoxes--

        "What's a paradox?"

         Something that seems contradictory but is actually true.

       "Okay. So...why do some people write free verse?"

        Because they think it is easier and they figure, since no one is listening, why not take the path of least resistance?

       "And is it easier?"

        No. In fact, it's five times as difficult, and there is no real chance of serious benefit--to the author or the public--because of the minuscule audience and, for that matter, readership.

       "So why do they bother?"

        Because being a poet has a certain cachet. Status. People who don't get enough attention love the thought that their words will be preserved in memory.

       "Even though they won't be."

        Exactly. A person can dream. It's a free country.

        "Is there any way to get people to read your poetry? Without setting it to music, I mean."

        A person could get their work published in their university's press and hope students will be forced to study--sorry, interpret--it. Or be selected to read a poem at an inauguration. Or state funeral, perhaps. We call these "occasional" poems. Unfortunately, the last few of these have not been memorized, even by their authors.

        "That's it?"

        People just don't listen to poetry without music.

"Is there a workaround? Some kind of cheat code?"

         Well, it's possible to embed poetry in prose. For example, imagine a movie about someone who performs poetry at, say, open mikes. Beyond that, we're really only talking about song lyrics. For now, at least.

        "That's depressing."

         It can be, but consider this: There is more verse being published and heard today than ever before.

        "Yeah, but there's more people than ever before."

         True, but I mean as a percentage of the population. Granted, 99.999+% of the verse is in song, but the hours individuals spend listening to verse are at an all time high. And rising.

        "So if I'm a tone deaf poet--"

         You have one more reason to date a musician.

Next: Part III - What is rhythm?

The Outerview Series

Friday, June 21, 2024

The Outerview Series: Part I - What is poetry?

      Poetry is speech worth remembering. (Believe it or not, that was the long definition.) Because there are only two kinds--two modes--of speech we only need to distinguish poetry from its opposite, prose, in order to define it.

     "Please, slow down. I'm new to this. Taking notes here."

     Fair enough. Consider this: If two people tell you the same joke using entirely different words, is it the same joke?

     "Yes, isn't that just saying that the same joke is the same joke?"

     Right. It's called a tautology. Now, if two people recite the same poem using entirely different words, is it the same poem?

     "Oh, I see. It's all about the words, then."

     Exactly! In short, poetry is verbatim.

     "Wait, what about poetry readings?"

     "Poetry readings" is a contradiction in terms. An oxymoron. If the reader--often the author--can't be bothered to memorize and perform the work, why think the rest of us will?

     "Okay, what about reading poetry? Say, in books."

There are two fine reasons for reading poetry instead of listening to it. The first is to memorize it after you've enjoyed hearing it.

"And the second?"

The other reason is to see why you or others want to memorize it. This is called "prosody"--

"Pross-who? How do you spell that?"

P-R-O-S-O-D-Y. A bag of tricks to help people remember your words. A science, actually.

In other words, the second reason involves reading critically, something you're most likely to practice as part of your education.

"But what if I write something beautiful and heartfelt--"

Prose--purple prose, at least--can be every bit as "beautiful and heartfelt" as poetry. Both can be humorous, thoughtful, instructive, emo, nostalgic, political, provocative, handy, sad--literally, anything.

Thirty days hath September
April, June, and November.

"What if my story rhymes?"

Then it becomes an attempt at poetry, since rhymes do help us remember. If no one hears your words, though, it isn't communication, let alone poetry. Just a tree falling in the forest.

"No audience, no poetry. Got it. So, it's a poem because it has some of these prosody thingies but...not a poem if no one remembers it? That sounds messed up."

It is a conundrum, yes. As we say: "Most poetry isn't."

       But wait. It's about to get a lot messier. Let's recap:

       Communication requires a sender and a receiver.

       "Clearly."

       Poetry is speech, not writing (which came much later, if at all, in cultures). The fancy sounds, including rhymes, need to be heard to be appreciated.

       "Okay."

       It can explore any subject or theme with any level of passion or depth.

       "Agreed."

       It only asks to be remembered word for word. That's why we recite poetry. Prose? Not so much.

       "Seems about right."

       Poetry is composed by poets...

       "Obviously."

       ...but if it needs to be preserved verbatim to avoid being prose, who is creating the poetry?

       "Wait. What?"

       People can write a billion "poems" but they're just autumn leaves until someone takes one home.

       "I'm a little confused now."

       A book is only a manuscript until it is published.

       "Okay, that I understand."

       So who creates books? Authors or publishers?"

After a long pause: "Oh-h-h...I think I get it now. It's the movie producer, not the script writer, who produces movies. Film. Doh!"

Precisely. Only the audience matters because only they can prove the words are worth memorizing--by doing the job themselves. When all is said [even if nothing is done], poetry is what remains.

Next: Where is poetry?

The Outerview Series

These lectures, interrupted by an inquisitive young student, explore the essence and rudiments of poetry. Your comments are welcome.

Friday, August 13, 2021

Ta-Da!

     When British troops landed in India the residents, who spoke unstressed tongues, noticed a similarity between the "Left! Right!" marching cadence and the binary stresses of the English language. We accept the alternating stresses but why do we describe our speech as iambic as opposed to trochaic?

     Part of the reason is in the effect of pronouns and articles on our subject-verb-object pattern:

"She saw | the boy."

     Another reason is that ending on an accented syllable sounds more momentous, decisive or conclusive. Trailing off seems tentative, wistful, or uncertain. Thus, our poetry is iambic (de-DUM) or, occasionally, anapestic (de-de-DUM), and very rarely trochaic (DEM-de), dactyllic (DUM-de-de), or amphibrachic (de-DUM-de).

     What do we do when we want to finish with a flourish? In sonnets we go from ending lines with distant/alternating rhymes to a couplet. Typical would be the ababcc scheme in this sestet:

Prairie Prayer

Come autumn, combines comb the fields
to harvest gold canola oil
for toast before November yields
its cold. Like whitened coffee, soil
beneath integument snow extols
the blood and bone of remnant souls.

A less formal approach is to use extra stresses. In iambic work this creates a "Ta-Da!" effect, often as part of a double iamb. For example, we note the last line of "Kemla's Aloha":

Kemla's Aloha

You showed me home is a person not a place.
I watch as time collapses in your wake,
as every story, fully told, can trace
a common path, each stream to the same lake.

Classical Diaeresis

     A more elaborate technique is classical diaeresis, ending a poem with a word in the verse's cadence. For example, the first stanza of the iambic pentameter "Beans" ends with an iamb; all previous disyllabic words are trochaic.

September came like winter's ailing child,
but left us viewing Valparaiso's pride.
Your face was always saddest when you smiled.
You smiled as every doctored moment lied.
You lie with orphans' parents, long reviled.

     Hand this text to someone and have them read it aloud. Notice how "reviled" sounds like a finale? This parallels the finality of the parents' death. By contrast, the second stanza uses the spondaic approach, creating a sense of lingering consequence.

As close as coppers, yellow beans still line
Mapocho's banks. It leads them to the sea;
entwined on rocks and saplings each new vine
recalls that dawn in nineteen seventy three
when every choking bastard weed grew wild.

    The stanza contains two iambs, "entwined" and "recalls", but that final line begins with, arguably, three pounding iambs ("ev'ry choking bastard"), setting up another instance of diaeresis, but the slightly less conclusive spondee, "grew wild", leaves on a more ominous note.

     The first thing we should learn about any technique is when not to use it.

Monday, February 8, 2021

The Remains of the Clay

"The further a society drifts from the truth the more it will hate those who speak it."

- George Orwell

Definition of rhetoric

1 : the art of speaking or writing effectively: such as
a : the study of principles and rules of composition formulated by critics of ancient times
b : the study of writing or speaking as a means of communication or persuasion
2a : skill in the effective use of speech
b : a type or mode of language or speech also : insincere or grandiloquent language
3 : verbal communication : discourse

Definition of prose

1a : the ordinary language people use in speaking or writing
b : a literary medium distinguished from poetry especially by its greater irregularity and variety of rhythm and its closer correspondence to the patterns of everyday speech
2 : a dull or ordinary style, quality, or condition

Definition of poetry

1 : verbatim speech

      The average North American doesn't attend poetry readings or slams and it certainly doesn't buy volumes of contemporary poetry. We have been exposed to what Leonard Cohen would describe as "other forms of boredom advertised as poetry":

Inaugural Poem: "Praise Song for the Day"

Watch Poet Richard Blanco Read the Inaugural Poem

Inaugural poet Amanda Gorman delivers a poem at Joe Biden's inauguration

       And now we see this:

Amanda Gorman Recites 'Chorus of the Captains' at Super Bowl LV

    Today we honor our three captains for their actions and impact in a time of uncertainty and need.

    They have taken the lead, exceeding all expectations and limitations, uplifting their communities and nation as leaders, healers, and educators.

    James has felt the wounds of warfare but this warrior still shares his home with at-risk kids. During COVID he's even lent a hand, live-streaming football for family and fans.

    Trimaine is an educator who works non-stop providing his community with hot spots, laptops, and tech workshops, so his students have all the tools they need to succeed in life and in school.

    Susie is the ICU nurse manager at a Tampa hospital. Her chronicles prove that even in tragedy, hope is possible. She lost her grandmothers to the pandemic, and fights to save other lives in the ICU battle zone defining the front line heroes risking their lives for our own.

    Let us walk with these warriors, charge on with these champions, and carry forth the call of our captains. We celebrate them by acting with courage and compassion, by doing what is right and just.

    For while we honor them today, it is they who every day honor us.

   That is it. Those are the only four 21st century "poems" that a sizeable minority, if not a majority, of North Americans have witnessed. (For what it's worth, Maya Angelou's poem from Clinton's 1993 inauguration was significantly better.)

     Whether this is prose or rhetoric and whether or not we appreciate the heartfelt sentiments, it is not being memorized and performed--"covered"--the way songs are, the way poetry was when it was alive. These pieces aren't quoted at all, let alone from memory. By our inaction you, I, and everyone else--including the author--have spoken: "None of this is poetry." The lack of mnemonics (other that some overconsonance at Biden's inauguration) shows a lack of effort and/or intent to create poetry.

"But what is the harm?" one might ask of this misapprehension.

The next time someone tries to define poetry by its content, demanding that poetry be thought provoking or poignant, ask the person what prose authors they read. Suggesting that poetry has some monopoly on and obligation to limit itself to philosophy or romance, aside from being laughably easy to disprove, does a disservice to all of our communication. It delegitimizes the bulk of our canon: humor, biography, bawdiness, commentary, narrative, history, description, etc.

"Only ignorance is fatal."

     On January 6th, 2021, the world saw what happens when deliberate misrepresentation becomes widespread. The only defense is education and reflection, preferably in that order.

     Find some words worth memorizing. Carry them with you, using spare moments to learn them. Practice in a mirror. Make a video. Go to an open mic and perform them. Carry them with you for the rest of your life.

     That is poetry.

     The rest is wind.

Thursday, January 21, 2021

Inaugural Poet Amanda Gorman - "The Hill We Climb"

      22 year old Los Angeles aspiring poet Amanda Gorman was Joe Biden's choice for inaugural poet. How did she do?

      Well, it depends on your filter. We bear in mind that, during the art form's struggle to exist during these last 50 years, the anglophone world has experienced only three poems together: "Praise Song for the Day", "One Today", and now, ironically, "The Hill We Climb". To be sure, Ms. Gorman is no Margaret Ann Griffiths. If you're looking for performance it would be at the midpoint of your local slam, well out of the Winners' Circle but significantly better than the average print world author's reading. Amanda had practiced her delivery but still relied on text at the lectern and on teleprompters. This wasn't a random sampling of her collection. It was written for this auspicious occasion. The fact that Amanda Gorman didn't bother to memorize it speaks volumes.

      On the one hand, it didn't work as poetry but, on the other hand, it was infinitely better than the cringeworthy efforts--if that's the right word--of Elizabeth Alexander and Richard Blanco. It did contain a little word play but, all in all, it was unremarkable except for one overused (e.g. "...compose a country committed to all cultures, colors, characters and conditions") technique. At this rate we can hope that by 2040 the caliber of verse will have reached the level of [c]rap lyrics and by 2100 it could pass as a first draft on Gazebo.

When day comes we ask ourselves,
Where can we find light in this never-ending shade?
The loss we carry,
a sea we must wade
We braved the belly of the beast
We’ve learned that quiet isn’t always peace
And the norms and notions
of what just is
Isn’t always just-ice.
And yet the dawn is ours
before we knew it
Somehow we do it
Somehow we weathered and witnessed
a nation that isn’t broken
but simply unfinished
We the successors of a country and a time
Where a skinny black girl
Descended from slaves and raised by a single mother
Can dream of becoming president
Only to find herself reciting for one.
And yes we are far from polished
far from pristine
But that doesn’t mean that we are
striving to form a union that is perfect.
We are striving to forge our union with purpose
To compose a country committed to all cultures, colors, characters and
conditions of man.
And so we lift our gaze not to what stands between us
but what stands before us
We close the divide because we know to put our future first
We must first put our differences aside
We lay down our arms
So we can reach out our arms
To one another.
We seek harm to none and harmony for all.
Let the globe, if nothing else, say this is true:
That even as we grieved, we grew
That even as we hurt, we hoped
That even as we tired, we tried.
That we’ll forever be tied together, victorious.
Not because we will never again know defeat
But because we will never again sow division.
Scripture tells us to envision
That everyone shall sit under their own vine and fig tree
And no one shall make them afraid.
If we’re to live up to our own time
Then victory won’t lie in the blade
But in all the bridges we’ve made
That is the promise to glade
The hill we climb
If only we dare.
Because being American is more than a pride we inherit
It’s the past we step into
And how we repair it.
We’ve seen a force that would shatter our nation
Rather than share it
Would destroy our country if it meant delaying democracy.
And this effort very nearly succeeded.
But while democracy can be periodically delayed,
it can never be permanently defeated.
In this truth,
in this faith we trust
For while we have our eyes on the future,
history has its eyes on us.
This is the era of just redemption.
We feared at its inception
We did not feel prepared to be the heirs
of such a terrifying hour
but within it we found the power
to author a new chapter.
To offer hope and laughter to ourselves.
So while we once we asked,
how could we possibly prevail over catastrophe?,
Now we assert
How could catastrophe possibly prevail over us?
We will not march back to what was
but move to what shall be.
A country that is bruised but whole,
benevolent but bold,
fierce and free.
We will not be turned around
or interrupted by intimidation
because we know our inaction and inertia
will be the inheritance of the next generation.
Our blunders become their burdens.
But one thing is certain;
If we merge mercy with might,
and might with right,
then love becomes our legacy
and change our children’s birthright.
So let us leave behind a country
better than the one we were left with.
Every breath from my bronze pounded chest,
we will raise this wounded world into a wondrous one.
We will rise from the gold-limbed hills of the west,
We will rise from the windswept northeast
where our forefathers first realized revolution.
We will rise from the lake-rimmed cities of the midwestern states,
we will rise from the sunbaked south.
We will rebuild, reconcile and recover
and every known nook of our nation and
every corner called our country,
our people diverse and beautiful will emerge
battered and beautiful.
When day comes we step out of the shade,
aflame and unafraid,
The new dawn blooms as we free it.
For there is always light,
if only we’re brave enough to see it.
If only we’re brave enough to be it.

Obviously, it needs to be cut down to about 1/8th of its length. In its current form it is rambling, self-absorbed, turgid, cliché-festooned droning with some random rhyming. It was as if Amanda had attended the class on sonics (e.g. alliteration, consonance, assonance) but skipped all of the other lectures (e.g. definition, performance, meter, free verse, rhyme schemes, compression, etc.). It was a vessel for an abbreviated voyage along poetry's surface. Yes, it was Shakespeare compared to her two predecessors but that isn't saying much. It did nothing to revive any long dead interest in poetry, even--if not especially--within Amanda Gorman herself. The sudden fame won't encourage her to learn the rest of the craft.

Mind you, it didn't clear the crowds, as Ms. Alexander's flat prose did in 2008. So there's that.

Tuesday, December 22, 2020

Melody Is Memory

     All of us understand that poetry is a mode of speech defined by memorable words. Prosody is the science of making verses easier to recall, either through concision or repetition. Even if one were to argue that "forgettable poetry" is not an oxymoron a tautological question of relevance arises: "If no one cares then who cares? If a tree falls in the forest does anybody give a damn?"

     As with all speech, poetry requires an audience. The vast majority of people today cannot recite a stanza written in this millennium but can sing thousands of contemporary lyrics. As a practical matter, poetry is less a mode of speech than singing. Those concerned about adding the medium of music will bear in mind that long before the 20th century disappearance of spoken verse its most successful example was Shakespeare's theater.

     What aspect of song penetrates our memories most efficiently? A drum beat might meet with blank stares. A chord progression might not be identified but two or three notes can spark recognition and many to sing along. Verse being a participation sport, this defines modern poetry just as "verbatim" has defined it from its inception.

     Technically challenged poets speak vaguely of "musicality", a term that provokes cringing and eye rolls from geeks. The truth is that poetry needs more than facsimile; it requires actual music to attract an audience. (And, perhaps, a readership. Royalties from all contemporary poetry books combined wouldn't add up to those from one Leonard Cohen or Bob Dylan lyric collection.)

      Content regents and corazoners will insist that the profound and poignant will attract attention [sooner or later]. All the evidence points to a very different conclusion. Melody is everything in song and, thus, verse. Allow us to demonstrate with two piercing examples:

As with so many of her songs, "Ain't Life a Brook" (1980) is thought provoking and heart rending. This song includes one of the greatest throwaway phrases of the last half century. However, the rambling melody and accentual dimeter is not something you will sing in the shower. Or remember at length.

I watch you reading a book
I get to thinking our love's a polished stone
You give me a long drawn look
I know pretty soon you're going to leave our home
And of course I mind
Especially when I'm thinking from my heart
But life don't clickety-clack down a straight line track
It comes together and it comes apart
You say you hope I'm not the kind
To make you feel obliged
To go ticking through your time
With a pained look in your eyes
You give me the furniture, we'll divide the photographs
Go out to dinner one more time
Have ourselves a bottle of wine
And a couple of laughs
And when first you left
I stayed so sad I wouldn't sleep
I know that love's a gift, I thought yours was mine
And something that I could keep
Now I realize that time is not the only compromise
But a bird in the hand could be an all night stand
Between a blazing fire and a pocket of skies
So I hope I'm not the kind
To make you feel obliged
To go ticking through your time
With a pained look in your eyes
I covered the furniture, I framed the photographs
Went out to dinner one more time
Had myself a bottle of wine
and a couple of laughs
And just the other day
I got your letter in the mail
I'm happy for you, its been so long
You've been wanting a cabin and a backwoods trail
And I think that's great
I seem to find myself in school
It's all okay, I just want to say
I'm so relieved we didn't do it cruel
But ain't life a brook
Just when I get to feeling like a polished stone
I give me along drawn look
It's kind of a drag to find yourself alone
And sometimes I mind
Especially when I'm waiting on your heart
But life don't clickety-clack down a straight line track
It comes together and it comes apart
'Cause I know you're not the kind
To make me feel obliged
To go ticking through my time with a pained look
In my eyes
I sold the furniture, I put away the photographs
Went out to dinner one more time
Had myself a bottle of wine
Had a couple of laughs
And wasn't it fine

Contrast this with John Prine's child-like, tragicomic "Christmas in Prison" (or almost any other Prine song), published in 1973:

Prine's trademark trinaries underscore the melody, creating an earworm. His lyrics, while evocative and moving, are not near Ferron's in depth but we, individually and collectively, carry them into the future far more readily and easily than Ferron's work.

It was Christmas in prison
And the food was real good
We had turkey and pistols
Carved out of wood
And I dream of her always
Even when I don't dream
Her name's on my tongue
And her blood's in my stream
Wait awhile eternity
Old mother nature's got nothing on me
Come to me
Run to me
Come to me, now
We're rolling
My sweetheart
We're flowing
By God
She reminds me of a chess game
With someone I admire
Or a picnic in the rain
After a prairie fire
Her heart is as big
As this whole goddamn jail
And she's sweeter than saccharine
At a drug store sale
Wait awhile eternity
Old mother nature's got nothing on me
Come to me
Run to me
Come to me, now
We're rolling
My sweetheart
We're flowing
By God
The search light in the big yard
Swings round with the gun
And spotlights the snowflakes
Like the dust in the sun
It's Christmas in prison
There'll be music tonight
I'll probably get homesick
I love you
Goodnight
Wait awhile eternity
Old mother nature's got nothing on me
Come to me
Run to me
Come to me, now
We're rolling
My sweetheart
We're flowing
By God

Again, the difference is prosody, yes, but mostly melody. So what can we do with this?

To be continued.

Earl Gray

Sunday, June 30, 2024

Next: What is rhythm?

The Outerview Series

Sunday, June 23, 2024

Next: Part III - What is rhythm?

The Outerview Series

Friday, June 21, 2024

Next: Where is poetry?

The Outerview Series

Friday, August 13, 2021

Monday, February 8, 2021

Thursday, January 21, 2021

Tuesday, December 22, 2020