[Fred Longworth]

Bobby,

That's a good rule of
thumb. Alas, when
I look at my
hand, I see four other
fingers.

Fred

[Clay Stockton]

Curtis,

You wrote:

Perhaps I'm reading the Eliot incorrectly, so check me. The most relevant phrase for free verse is: or taking no form at all, and constantly approximating to a very simple one. Where is "meter" mentioned in that quote; why should the "simple one" be assumed to be metrical form as we understand it?

I wonder also if we might distinguish between the words "form" and "meter."

I'll be back to this thread. For now, I want to point out that most of the comments to this thread suggest a tendency exists to define free verse in terms of metrical verse. This is the "non-metrical" definition of free verse and is rather vague and odd, imo. Free verse can only be good insofar as it "suggests" meter?

Like I was careful to point out, by posting the Eliot I implied no endorsement. I believe that his analysis is, at best, incomplete--though probably through no fault of his own. He was as serious a thinker on these matters as one is apt to find, but he didn't live to read (for example) Rod McKuen, and other unmitigated disasters. I do believe, however, that in the context of his entire quote, Eliot implied that IP was a strongly typical example of the "very simple form" to which he referred. But I'm happy to observe the distinction between "form" and "meter" for this discussion. In fact, I don't think we can have this discussion without doing so.

I think, Curtis, that I have much the same problem with the Eliotic conception of FV that you do (if I understand you rightly). It's a definition by negation, if that term makes sense: Free verse is free verse because it is verse, but it is not metrical. Of course, I've seen very little in the way of successful "positive" definition of FV. (The term FV itself is, of course, biased toward a negative definition. "Open form" may be slightly more neutral, but FV is the best-known term, and the applicable caveats are well-known.)

One thing that I think Eliot helps us toward, though, is a realization that in order for a reader to deeply understand the prosodic technique of a FV poem, that reader must be able to successfully reference its prosodic "paradigm" (if I may misappropriate one of Clive's terms). This is similar to how things work with metrical poems: I've had a number of blank verse poems misidentified as FV by some readers because they, for whatever reason, didn't recognize the meter. The trouble with FV prosody, though, is that there are so many of different kinds of it. Whereas a reader can get a handle on accentual-syllabic meter with a little bit of dilligent study of the types of feet, getting a handle on Anglophone FV prosody requires reading nearly 150 years' worth of FV poems. There are about as many FV paradigms as there are canonical FV writers. (The discussion of what makes for "canonicity" in FV writing is probably related, but I'm not interested in getting into it now.)

So it seems that "positive" definitions of FV founder upon the plentitude of FV prosodies. And without a positive definition, I'm pretty sure that it's almost impossible to comprehensively articulate what makes for "good" FV lineation. Surely one approach is to focus on how "successfully" the FV lines approximate a very simple form like IP, but there are a number of FV poets who write what are generally accepted as successful FV lines while consciously eschewing any hint of metrical forms. Some of Williams's work might make for good examples.

Williams is useful for throwing one more thing into the mix. Eliot's view seems to exclude consideration of the visual aspect of the poem on the page. He has a metrist's ear, which may lead him to overstate the importance of sound in regard to FV. Many FV writers seem to lineate with a mind toward visual presentation at least as much as aural presentation. (Williams again; cummings; some Beats and Language poets.) So a discussion of FV lineation probably needs to include discussion not just of sound, but of sight.

The issues multiply like insects.

--CS



[This message has been edited by Clay Stockton (edited June 21, 2004).]

[Fred Longworth]

I agree that defining free verse from negatives -- i.e. from the constraints from which it has ostensibly been freed -- compels one to focus on "underlying" paradigms of formal verse (meter, rhyme, predefined structure as in a sonnet.)

One would wish to have positive things to say about free verse, which were not immediately re-definable as negations of formal origins, somewhat similarly to how representative democracy, a constitution and a bill of rights do not automatically hark back to colonial life under George III.

In that respect Bobby Jordan's request that the "non-met" forum receive a new name has merit. That said, "free verse" has become the common coin; and though we may change the name here to "open verse" or similar, the "free verse" monicker will be damnedably difficult to change in mainstream culture.

* * * * *

The observation that poetry today has a strong visible component is true. Curiously, in most on-line poetry forums such as this one, it is very time-consuming to format a poem with complex open-space, varying line-indentations and odd spaces between phrases.

Thus, most poems around here tend to be visually unexciting.

* * * * *

More to say later. I have an open-mic to attend.

Fred

[Curtis Gale Weeks]

Clay, Fred,

I suppose that a pragmatic approach might be necessary to our development of an understanding of, as Clay called it, a "FV prosody," an approach which includes a consideration of metrical prosody, for the simple facts that 1) metrical prosody is an established set of rules familiar to many poets, and 2) the various "types" of FV poetry are apparently numerous (though I think they are not as numerous as we tend to think) and are not as easily—practically—distinguished from one another as metrical poetry is from the body of FV poetry. At least with a consideration of the metrical paradigms, we'll be able to narrow down our search for a corresponding FV prosody at the outset, or will have a common beginning point. I think this is not to say, not whatsoever, that an understanding of metrical prosody is essential to any understanding of FV prosody. To use an example from another area of cognitive distinction: How does knowing that an orange is orange tell us anything about baseballs, though we can easily say that a baseball is not an orange and is not colored orange: definition by negatives? "Baseballs are non-orange" is true, but nearly meaningless. To put it another way: It is a matter of common understanding that metrical poets—the masters, at least—probably do not count on their fingers da DUM da DUM da DUM da DUM da DUM while writing the lines of a sonnet, because iambic paradigms are so learned as to be fairly instinctual; if this is true, why should a FV poet keep da DUM da DUM da DUM da DUM da DUM squarely in mind while writing a FV poem if the poem is, by nature, not metrical? Too narrow a focus on trying to approximate to a metrical paradigm (defined as a regular pattern of beats, only) would require a fairly complete desertion of any other paradigm and would seem to be antithetical to the creation of a good FV poem (which contains no such audible meter.)

In my search for an understanding of the inner workings of effective FV poems, however, I've not forsaken an understanding of metrical prosodies. Perhaps comparative studies are pragmatic, especially also if (as I suspect), metrical prosodies exist in great part to make clear—indeed, to capitalize on—effective "verse turns," or persuasive turns in the argument/case which a poem would make. I.e., Perhaps metrical paradigms accentuate rhetoric effectively, when handled moderately well (at the least), as a result of their constraints. [Affectively?]

____

<dir>For it is not metres, but a metre-making argument, that makes a poem. —Emerson, "The Poet"</dir>

When considering argumentation, one naturally considers the premises and the conclusion which leads from those premises and might easily separate these two sides an argument. It's much more difficult to distinguish the premises and the conclusion in a typical argument between two people, since not only do people often argue irrationally and in a disjointed manner (often taking a circuitous route by introducing seemingly impertinent observations, premises), but such conclusions as are found often become the premises for new arguments or for a turn in the original argument—which might reveal an intention to argue an argument which is quite unlike what the original argument seemed to be. If you follow.

Here are a few of the assertions I made in the thread Fred mentions at the opening of this thread, which I'd like to introduce here:

<dir>[*]The line is also an isolator, an emphasizing agent, because it isolates language to one line of type.[/i]
[*]The term "verse" is rooted in the idea of "turning"; I'd say that the effect required in order for a collection of lines to be verse is the following: The argument/case (of a poem) is presented in terms of the line and turns with each progression from line to line.
[*] The items isolated into line units are necessarily compared one with another—most strongly, with [those in] the nearest lines—for the mere fact that multiple lines share the designation "line" but may contain quite different items.</dir>

I suppose each of these assertions could be expanded, qualified, interrogated. In fact, I think that interrogation is a necessary element in communication, in our language, and in a poem. We often say that such-and-such element in a poem "does" something, but these elements actually just sit there on the page/screen in the form of black-and-white type (if not in some other color); we do something, in response to them; we isolate and interrogate.

I mentioned in that other thread that a form of dialectics occurs between/among the lines: this is the "interrogation" I mean. For a line to be necessary, the thing(s) isolated by it must necessarily be isolated for the argument the poet is making; the line must form one premise and/or conclusion to the argument. It is true that a line might contain only a word, a phrase, a clause, a sentence, but it is also true that a line might contain a variation on combinations of these, such as one phrase plus one word. The one word might actually belong to a phrase which spans the break between the lines, but the unit one-phrase-plus-one-word is an isolation which we might interrogate alone or in combination with the next line, or other lines. This level of interrogation is present in prose, it is a function of our language, as each word delimits or qualifies the communication presented in other words, phrases, clauses, sentences which are associated with it in a paragraph. I just qualified "are associated with it" with the prepositional phrase "in a paragraph." At the level of human interrogation (because we do it; the words do nothing on their own), the phrase "are associated with it" might be rather vague, alone, because we question the word "associated"—How are these associated? Just because they're in English? How...?—and the prepositional phrase answers, at least in part, the questions we might have about that word. So it might be misleading to say that the lines are arguing with one another, questioning and answering each other, since really we are arguing with ourselves—with our own comprehensions—as we interpret and interrogate the lines.

Perhaps none of the above goes far to explain exactly how the lines of FV should be constructed, or perhaps some will say it goes too far; but I hope it at least gives a framework for understanding what limits are imposed on our construction of FV lines. A few more questions:

<dir>[*]How does "isolation" work?
[*]How does "emphasis" work?
[*]If our language already contains these "turns" in the argument, what level of verse-turning, via the line break, is required to distinguish FV from prose?</dir>

I've been considering these since my participation on that other thread on renaming the Non-Met board. Fred mentioned there the question he had, which others also apparently had, on the distinction between a short line of FV and a long line of FV. Though perhaps more distinction could be made, I began to visualize a scenario:

Suppose I were to take a stick of chalk and draw a circle on a sidewalk, 2 feet in diameter. Next, I take four stones of unequal but similar size—say, they fit in my fist—and scatter them inside the circle. I add a basketball. If a child comes along, which will he choose to pick up first? We might say that the stones and the basketball are all isolated from the rest of the world by the chalk-circle, but that the basketball is further isolated from the stones by its size and coloration and potential uses. It is likely to stand out. This chalk-circle might be analogous to a line of FV such as "In the darkness, when the", in that darkness not only stands out in size but also because it is a noun and conveys a type of information which is less dependent on other relationships (to other words) than the other words in that line. If we add one more stone to the chalk-circle, or subtract one stone, our change in the contents are not likely to make much difference for the child, who'll probably still pick up the basketball and might not even notice the stones or the outline of the circle. Even if he notices the stones and the circle, once he carries the basketball away, he may forget both stones and circle as he focuses on how lucky he was to find the basketball. But suppose that, instead of adding a stone, we add a baseball; this might be analogous to a line of FV such as, "In the darkness, when the season." The boy might have trouble choosing between the two balls and might actually leave with both, forgetting stones and circle. But we are adults, and we are now considering all, stones & balls & chalk-circle.

Determining the methods used to establish relative degrees of emphasis in an argument (relative pertinence) is necessary, I should think, if we are to come to an understanding of how to craft good FV lines.

______


Breaking away from that last chalk-circle...Perhaps the two phrases, "In the darkness" & "when the season," are a single basketball and a single baseball in a different chalk-circle which contains no stones.

How are arguments presented on the level of the phrase, clause, and/or sentence? Here's a brief explanation of the terms Derek Attridge uses for studying the phrasal patterns of poems:

Briefly stated, Attridge utilizes four categories for describing types of phrasing and how they interact:

<dir>[*]phrase of anticipation (ANT)[*]phrase of arrival (ARR)[*]phrase of statement (STA)[*]phrase of extension (EXT)</dir>

These types of phrasing generally work in pairs, where 1) a phrase of arrival (ARR) follows a phrase of anticipation (ANT) or 2) a phrase of extension (EXT) follows a phrase of statement (STA). Of these, only a STA can easily stand alone without some other phrase, or at least more often. (I.e., a phrase of statement might not be extended via a phrase of extension; it might stand on its own.) Phrases of anticipation (ANT), for instance, are leading phrases which introduce a question: an introduction of data which seems incomplete or which establishes a train of thought that would seem to need finishing via a phrase of arrival (ARR). A phrase of extension (EXT) would follow a phrase of statement (STA) to add new information in modification of the statement; an EXT might lead in a new direction, but its existence isn't already prefigured or suggested by the STA which precedes it.

For instance, in "In the darkness, when the season," the first phrase is one of anticipation; it is leading somewhere, doesn't conclude a statement. Let's make up a fake set of lines for a poem.

<dir>In the darkness, when the season
has ended and every family awaits the start
of each new day with trepidation,
oaths are made which will not be kept,
and pacts are forged in secret.</dir>

Keeping in mind that the symbol "|" marks the end of a phrase, we might "scan" the phrasal patterns in the following manner:

<dir><font="courier new">

ANT-----------| ANT------------
In the darkness, when the season

------------------------------------------
has ended and every family awaits the start

--------------------------------|
of each new day with trepidation,

ARR----------------------------------
oaths are made which will not be kept,

------------------------------|
and pacts are forged in secret.<font="Verdana"></dir>

But there are other levels of phrasal patterning in this example. Consider the final two lines:

<dir><font="courier new">

STA----------| EXT-----------------|
oaths are made which will not be kept,


STA---------------| EXT----|
and pacts are forged in secret.<font="Verdana"></dir>

It is possible to lineate in order to emphasize a certain level of phrasal patterning. Following the first "scansion" above, we might relineate thus:

<dir>In the darkness, [ANT]
when the season has ended and every family awaits the start of each new day with trepidation, [ANT]
oaths are made which will not be kept, and pacts are forged in secret. [ARR]</dir>

If we consider that the second line is a compound phrase, that an unspoken "when" is implied, we might break it into two anticipatory phrases (ANT):

<dir>In the darkness, [ANT]
when the season has ended [ANT]
and [when] every family awaits the start of each new day with trepidation, [ANT]
oaths are made which will not be kept, and pacts are forged in secret. [ARR]</dir>

The final line might be considered a compound phrase of arrival (ARR):

<dir>In the darkness, [ANT]
when the season has ended [ANT]
and [when] every family awaits the start of each new day with trepidation, [ANT]
oaths are made which will not be kept,[ARR]
and pacts are forged in secret. [ARR]</dir>

But now, those final two lines also isolate STA-EXT phrasal pairs, re: the second phrasal scansion above. If we wanted to isolate the elements in those pairs and create an "echo" (non-technical term, heh) of the STA-EXT pattern, we might lineate the final two lines into four:


<dir>oaths are made [STA]
which will not be kept, [EXT]
and pacts are forged [STA]
in secret. [EXT]</dir>

I suppose one might say that in this example broad statements are offered in one line while an extension, or qualifying phrase is offered in the next. It might be worth asking (so I'll ask it) whether we now have a comparison between the two STA, a comparison between the two EXT, and something larger drawn by these comparisons and the STA-EXT pattern overlaying them.

[I should note, that the other phrases of this pseudo-poem could also be broken down further, into other patterns, such as: every family awaits-ANT / the start of each new day-ARR...or, every family awaits the start of each new day-STA / with trepidation-EXT. Etc.]



[This message has been edited by Curtis Gale Weeks (edited June 21, 2004).]

[Jerry Glenn Hartwig]

It’s really pretty simple

Beliefs such as this are the basis for the poor quality work I've seen. Beginners learn no better, often because those teaching them know no better.

There are entire books out that put the lie to this.

[Robert E. Jordan]

Yeah Hartwig,

My post is a practically verbatim quote from one of them.

"A Poetry Handbook", by Mary Oliver.

Page 54.

Bobby

------------------
Visit Bobby's Urban Rage Poetry Page at:

www.prengineers.com/poetry

Thanks

[This message has been edited by Robert E. Jordan (edited June 22, 2004).]

[Fred Longworth]

Curtis wrote: "Briefly stated, Attridge utilizes four categories for describing types of phrasing and how they interact: phrase of anticipation (ANT); phrase of arrival (ARR); phrase of statement (STA); phrase of extension (EXT)."

Now anticipation and arrival require a separation. If I hold an unknown object in my hand and say, "Guess what?" -- it is important that I first hide and then disclose. If I let the other party peek too much, it corrupts the game. We might say that the isolation of one line from the next creates a structure ideal for this game of anticipation and arrival.

The dynamics are a bit different when the "game" is statement and extension. Here, the dynamic is one of presentation and development, or a movement from basic sketch to full portrait. In this matrix, if there is insufficient separation between statement and extension, the game is not spoiled -- rather it is rendered confusing. The reader may have to parse out the elements, may need to make judgments as to what is skeleton and what is flesh.

Either way, we might say that the effects are generally best accomplished when antipation-and-arrival & statement-and-extension are relegated to separate lines.

Fred

[Jerry Glenn Hartwig]

"A Poetry Handbook", by Mary Oliver

Mary wrote her book to be simple, for the beginner. I thought we were beyond that here. I guess not.

Try The New Princeton Encyclopedia of Poetry and Poetics, pps 694 - 697.

If you're going to quote something here, please choose something with a little meat to it - no offense to Mary. Her book serves it's purpose in Eng 101, as she meant it to. It is by no means comprehensive. Or even an adequate beginning for a serious writer.

[Jerry Glenn Hartwig]

And while you're at it, Bobby, read the other 1381 pages. *grin*

[Robt_Ward]

Try looking at it in terms of "art", visual art. For centuries visual arts in the western canon evolved on a more-or-less straight line, following also-evolving rules that "defined" what was "acceptable." There were always practitioners pushing the envelope, but if they were too far outside the envelope they weren't "art."

Then came Impressionism. The Fauves. Abstract Expressionism. Cubists in there soemwhere. DaDa. Surrealism. I'm not an expert on this stuff, but one thing I'm pretty sure about; when the critics got "serious" about abstract expressionism, the language they used to define its "prosody" was hauntingly familiar. I mean, no matter how or what you paint, the same compostional absolutes apply. Who's discovered a truly "new" way of relating compositional elements aesthetically?

The Golden proportion is still the Golden proportion, and so forth.

The language of "prosody" is an attempt to develop technical terms for how different elements of sound work together to create certain effects. I see no reason why I new language is needed just because verse is not "metrical". Or "rhyming". Or in "stanzas". Whatever.

Maybe I'm just simple-minded. All the same tricks seem to work, and they can work in their absence as much as they work in their presence. I donno. Sign me out of this one I guess...

(robt)