A study of Metrical Writing, Part 21: Conclusion.

Published by OJB in the blog OJB's blog. Views: 67

This is the end of our long study of Metrical writing. Some people might be curious about what is the main source of my Metrical opinion and upbringing. Here are the resources I consider 'Canon' in terms of Meter.

For Novices.
1. Writing Metrical poetry by William Baer.
2. Rules for a dance by Mary Oliver.

For Advance students.
1. All the Fun's in how you say a Thing by Timothy Steel.

For continued study.
Measure: A bi-annual review and journal of Metrical poetry. https://www.writingforums.org/resources/measure-an-annual-review-of-formal-poetry.365/


I'd like to end this study with a scan of one of my favorite poems by one of my favorite poets.

'For My Daughter' by Weldon Kees

Looking into my daughter’s eyes I read
Beneath the innocence of morning flesh
Concealed, hintings of death she does not heed.
Coldest of winds have blown this hair, and mesh
Of seaweed snarled these miniatures of hands;
The night’s slow poison, tolerant and bland,
Has moved her blood. Parched years that I have seen
That may be hers appear: foul, lingering
Death in certain war, the slim legs green.
Or, fed on hate, she relishes the sting
Of others’ agony; perhaps the cruel
Bride of a syphilitic or a fool.
These speculations sour in the sun.
I have no daughter. I desire none.

Looking /into/ my daught/er’s eyes /I read (Trochee/Iamb/Iamb/Iamb/Iamb)
Beneath/ the in/no-cence /of morn/ing flesh (Iamb/Iamb/Iamb/Iamb/Iamb/)
Concealed,/ hintings/ of death /she does/ not heed. (Iamb/Trochee/Iamb/Iamb/Iamb)
Coldest/ of winds/ have blown/ this hair,/ and mesh (Trochee/Iamb/Iamb/Iamb/Iamb)
Of sea/weed snarled /these min/ia-tures/ of hands; (Iamb/Iamb/Iamb/Iamb/Iamb)
The night’s /slow pois/on, tol/er-ant /and bland, (Iamb/Iamb/Iamb/Iamb/Iamb)
Has moved /her blood. /Parched years /that I /have seen (Iamb/Iamb/Iamb/Iamb/Iamb)
That may/ be hers /appear: /foul, ling/er-ing (Iamb/Iamb/Iamb/Iamb/Iamb)
Death /in cert/ain war,/ the slim/ legs green. (Headless Iamb/Iamb/Iamb/Iamb)
Or, fed /on hate, /she rel/ish-es/ the sting (Iamb/Iamb/Iamb/Iamb/Iamb)
Of oth/ers’ ag/on-y;/ perhaps /the cruel (Iamb/Iamb/Iamb/Iamb/Iamb)
Bride of/ a syp/hil-it/ic or /a fool. (Trochee/Iamb/Iamb/Iamb/Iamb)
These spec/u-la/tions so/ur in /the sun. (Iamb/Iamb/Iamb/Iamb/Iamb)
I have/ no daugh/ter. I/ de-si/re none. (Iamb/Iamb/Iamb/Iamb/Iamb)

What I really like about this poem, is that it makes you work through every syllable, even a few ambiguous ones.


I hope this study has been of value to those who have read it. I will be going back -over the next few weeks- and cleaning up some spelling mistakes, and presenting better examples in some of the articles. Also, should I come across any interesting essays or articles on Meter, I will amend this study. Thank you for following.

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