Form and Content in Poetry


dan2100

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"... never in the history of poetry have poets had so little interest in or knowledge of the arterial systems through which the lifeblood of poetry flows." -- John Frederick Nims, "Our Many Meters: Strength in Diversity" in David Baker, editor, Meter in English: A Critical Engagement.

Jackie van Oostrom's "Poetry - Consistency in Theme, Style & Subject Matter Poetry" (sadly, no longer available online) is refreshing since it comes from a basically Objectivist point of view and argues in favor of free verse and against metered verse. Objectivists typically argue for the opposite -- against free verse and totally in favor of metered or formal poetry. Many poets who claim to be Objectivists (or vice versa) write strictly formal verse. They also extol poems that are clearly formal. It's good to see someone in that movement breaking from the pack.

Even though van Oostrom opposes this view, she still fits in that ambit. As they completely reject free verse, she almost totally rejects formal verse -- except for "light or frivolous subject matter." There's dualistic thinking afoot here; a "false dichotomy" in need of dialectical resolution. She also shares other views with them, such as that clarity is to be preferred over its opposite, that the artwork should be independent of extraneous elements, and organicism (that the work should be an integrated whole).

Some might argue with some of these other congruencies. For instance, independence of extraneous elements can at best be a guide and can only be achieved to a limited degree. I do not mean something trivial by this such as that one must be able to understand English to appreciate English poems, though that is true enough. More importantly, quite a few metaphors require more than just an understanding of the language. For instance, Tennyson's "Ulysses" contains the phrase "follow knowledge like a sinking star." Not only must we see this as not literal in terms of plain English -- stars don't sink! -- but our appreciation is enhanced if we know how much meaning is invested in celestial events by most cultures. The image of sunset, of decline is important here. Ulysses is old and tired, yet still he goes on. There's a bit of celestial orderliness, of the eternal in his character. And the bulk of Tennyson's poem is best understood by those with more than a passing knowledge of Homer's Odyssey and is further helped with some understanding of Tennyson's life.

This view detaches poetry from its past in attempt, that has been tried so many times before that it is a tradition in itself, to get rid of all the ornaments of formalism. Free verse, in particular, has arisen many times before and will, no doubt, continually arise again to do battle with formalism of any stripe. (See Henry Tompkins Kirby-Smith's The Origins of Free Verse, p55ff.) This also links up to organicism, a matter I won't treat here.

On the subject of free verse itself, she conflates the term with one species of free verse, the prose poem. Some (e.g., Kirby-Smith, pp255-6) consider the prose poem the weakest form of free verse. Regardless, she neglects other forms and her own poetry on the web seems to border more between prose and what is called phrase-breaking free verse. She also uses standard poetic devices such as the anaphora present in section two of her "Roar." (Some might accuse her of hypocrisy here. I believe it's a good practice to pick and choose which devices work where in art.)

Her case is made harder to examine because she does not give examples of poetry -- save her work. This is a serious fault since she relegates all formal verse to the artistic dustbin because, to her, the "rhyme and metre style encourages the reader to focus on the form to the detriment of the meaning." (Note: she's making rhyme part of formal verse. It's not true that free verse has no rhymes. Early free verse often did rhyme and rhyme is sometimes used in free verse today.)

Elsewhere she states a "poem's form should be consistent with the subject matter and thus with its meaning. Form should enhance the meaning, and not detract from it." This is her main argument. By the meaning of the poem, she is talking about some would be called the semantics of the poem's words.

For instance -- and I'm using an example from another poet both because she gives no examples and my example is well known -- William Blake's "The Tyger" means that tigers are dreadful creatures and Blake wonders if God could have created them. To the extent, then, that the poem's meaning in this sense has to compete with the form (meter, rhyme, etc.) of the poem, the poem fails. This particular example is a good one since it is a metered poem, specifically trochaic meter, and it rhymes. (See Dana Gioia's "Meter-Making Arguments" in Meter in English: A Critical Engagement, p90.) Do these formal aspects distract the reader from the meaning? I think not! It is more truthful to say that the trochaic meter draws attention to the both the subject matter and the meaning since it is so regular. This stylization that occurs in all art forms heightens our awareness of the tiger's qualities, regardless of our religious beliefs. The rhymes set up expectations, but seem less important except insofar as they enhance metrical interest.

This poem seems a counterexample to van Oostrom's thesis. Even so, it might be that this sort of confluence of form and subject is rare. I doubt this, but, again, she does not give any examples on which to base her claim. Imagine if someone rewrote Blake's poem to make it into a prose poem. I won't attempt it here, but unless someone does a major revision of the phrasing the power of the original would likely be lost. It might turn out to be just a list of the tiger's qualities and some speculation on how such an organism could come to be. Or it might work. After all, there's a lot of powerful free verse out there, from Ginsberg's "Howl" to Amy Clampitt's "Medusa" and beyond. But it would be a different poem all together. It would not, in my opinion, be like "The Tyger" yet cleaned up and full of "clarity." It might instead be dry, antiseptic -- in a word: boring. It might not, but it might. I leave it to van Oostrom to prove me wrong here. Even if she does, it does not negate the fact that this poem's formal traits do not stifle its meaning or obscure its subject matter.

Two more points to note here: One is a matter of composition that I will take up later. The other is about the relation of meaning to prosody -- that is, to meter. Thus far, I've accepted van Oostrom's dichotomy. However, even from my example, meter and meaning in formal poems -- even in free verse, since a lot of free verse depends on tricking metrical expectations to enhance awareness -- are closely tied together. I am not the first to make such a claim. Others have said the same with much more scholarship to back their view: "prosody is a symbolic structure like metaphor and carries its own weight of meaning." (See Sound and Form in Modern Poetry, 2/e by Harvey Gross and Robert McDowell, p2)

The problem here is that for poetry the aspects of language which give rise to meter -- in English, stress levels -- are a large part of the medium of this art form. Meter in poetry is akin to color in visual art. Surely, drawings exist using no color -- or, more precisely, two colors -- but this is not the same as saying that in drawing somehow we are less distracted from the meaning because of the lack of color. Would anyone claim that Rembrandt 's sketches are somehow more meaningful, more serious than his paintings? It might be better to agree with Kenyon Cox that different "orders of truths" are displayed in each. (See his "What is Painting?" in What is Painting? "Winslow Homer" and Other Essays, p95.) With this, we would recognize that one can by using different types of poetry -- one meter, mixed meters, or no meter; rhyme or no rhyme; end stopped lines or enjambment; etc. -- one can emphasize certain truths while diminishing others. Nothing is wrong with this and it is to be expected since we have limited consciousnesses (the whole reason for selectivity in art or anything) and poetry must communicate much in a very small space.

Meter, rhyme, and other poetic effects also help with memorization, which is not to be disregarded, though, today, with widespread literacy and easy access to printed and recorded works, this is not as big a problem for van Oostrom's argument. After all, if strict meter merely helps one to remember a poem, books, recordings, and web sites all minimize the need to memorize at all. I also doubt anyone would argue for bare bones melodies music or simple plots in plays and novels or clean, linear forms paintings merely to make them more memorable. (This is, of course, not to argue against memorizing poems as a means to better enjoy and understand them.)

On the matter of composition, a problem with van Oostrom's view is that it tends toward the "roadmap" view of poetry. This is that the poet already knows where she wants to go and is merely giving us directions on how to get there. Now, after a poem is composed, this might be the case. The poet has by then made the journey whether or not she already knew where she was going when she started. However, I bet the outcome of van Oostrom's view of poetry won't be a vibrant new age of poetic clarity and elegance. Poets who follow her maxims might instead wind up translating whatever ideology they hold into brief bits of prose. They might happen upon new discoveries, but these will be minor and hidden behind mounds of didactic adages.

This might seem an ad hominem attack. I do not intend it to be so. I'm only stating my fear because all too often Objectivist art tends toward narrow formulae. Some might say that many will attempt to create art, but few succeed -- which is the case with any movement -- yet I think this is not only a matter of statistics. The esthetic platitudes that many would be Objectivist artists adopt stifle their creativity. Instead, the poet should look for things which trigger creative responses to the world. (See Richard Hugo The Triggering Town: Lectures and Essays on Poetry and Writing, p4) And I'm hardly the first to notice this! (See Peter Saint-Andre's Artist Shrugged -- online at http://books.stpeter...d/shrugged.html .)

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The success of formal verse depends on how well the poet uses the forms--meter, rhyme, etc.--to reinforce his meaning. For instance: If two disparate images are linked by rhyming end words, perhaps the poet is suggesting the images are not so disparate, and that there is some interior likeness. Properly used, the formal elements of formal verse reinforce and deepen our understanding of the text's meaning.

Even free verse has formal elements; it's "free" only in the sense that the meter is not pre-set, and is meant to follow the "natural" ups and downs of the reading voice.

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Dan,

I have written all kinds of poetry, including poems in Portuguese.

I have written free verse, rhymed verse, verse with rhythm...

rimed with writham...

unrith-umd with rr-I'm...

without rhyme with rhythm ...

not making a whole lot of cents...

Ca-ching...

:)

I seek what is never mentioned.

But first the mentioned:

Poetry is made to be spoken.

Not really true as a fundamental, but it can be for some poems.

Now the unmentioned:

Poetry is made to echo on and on in your mind.

The lines must stick and be stuck and bounce around. Not so for the meaning. You find that treasure between the text and the boundaries of volition. It's a dark place and a shining place and a cold lonely place and a warm crowded place. It's a good place and you choose it. It's always a good place. (That's quite a roll gathering steam. I wish I could go on...) Not everyone is rich, but all can be.

$-$-$

If a poem is not a ghost that haunts you...

It's just a word game, or worse...

A blathered lost moment...

An empty singularity...

Not human...

Poof...

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The success of formal verse depends on how well the poet uses the forms--meter, rhyme, etc.--to reinforce his meaning. For instance: If two disparate images are linked by rhyming end words, perhaps the poet is suggesting the images are not so disparate, and that there is some interior likeness. Properly used, the formal elements of formal verse reinforce and deepen our understanding of the text's meaning.

Pretty much the same as I wrote, no?

Even free verse has formal elements; it's "free" only in the sense that the meter is not pre-set, and is meant to follow the "natural" ups and downs of the reading voice.

I think free verse is usually defined with respect to a particular formal verse or breaks with a particular formal pattern, though the second half of 20th century seems to fly in the face of this view.

Also, there seems to always be poets who believe they're speaking in a natural voice whereas their predecessors and even some of their contemporaries are speaking in an artificial one. From my admittedly scant acquaintance with the history of English poetry, there appears to be no age where at least some poets don't believe this. (On this, I highly recommend Kirby-Smith's The Origins of Free Verse. I reviewed that book a while back and will probably post my review here soon.) And van Oostrom is no exception. Sadly, her poem "Roar" appears to not be online any more, but I believe she thought of it as an example of following the natural patterns of speech rather than the ornamentations of formal poetry.

I'd also be a bit careful about defining free verse the way you seem to. Prose or everyday speech will, if it goes on long enough, allow one to find some patterns (along with pattern-breaking) and one might just as well say they have formal elements. I think if the formal elements are so rare or so jumbled, eventually you lose formal elements -- the patterns of it become imperceptible and, therefore, no germane to the experience or to the meaning.

Now, that said, much so called free verse merely eliminates some formal aspects while emphasizing others. Think of the repetitions and rhythms in the poetry of Walt Whitman or in Ginsberg's "The Howl." These are not everyday speech and don't seem to be like prose. They don't rhyme and there's no regular metrical pattern akin to, say, blank verse. (And good blank verse is both formal poetry and should not be, in my opinion, so regular it becomes sing-song.) To choose an earlier example, check out George Herbert's "The Collar," which has irregular rhyme, no regular meter, and is sometimes consider free verse.

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Dan,

I have written all kinds of poetry, including poems in Portuguese.

I have written free verse, rhymed verse, verse with rhythm...

rimed with writham...

unrith-umd with rr-I'm...

without rhyme with rhythm ...

not making a whole lot of cents...

Ca-ching...

smile.gif

I seek what is never mentioned.

But first the mentioned:

Poetry is made to be spoken.

Not really true as a fundamental, but it can be for some poems.

Now the unmentioned:

Poetry is made to echo on and on in your mind.

The lines must stick and be stuck and bounce around. Not so for the meaning. You find that treasure between the text and the boundaries of volition. It's a dark place and a shining place and a cold lonely place and a warm crowded place. It's a good place and you choose it. It's always a good place. (That's quite a roll gathering steam. I wish I could go on...) Not everyone is rich, but all can be.

$-$-$

If a poem is not a ghost that haunts you...

It's just a word game, or worse...

A blathered lost moment...

An empty singularity...

Not human...

Poof...

It seems you're trying to one-up Cummings. wink.gif

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Here is an addendum.

I have an aesthetic difference with the Objectivist theory of art. It overlaps, but needs to be spelled out.

I believe that the cognitive purpose and function of art is to induce a trance.

(There are several kinds of trance and I am researching this right now. So this is not complete, but it is clear enough to the point that I know I am on to something. Art and hypnosis are kissing cousins, so to speak.)

That makes most Objectivist-leaning discussions on what is proper and improper in art meaningless for me. So I'll leave it at that right now.

My horsing-around post was just another way of saying this.

Michael

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Here is an addendum.

I have an aesthetic difference with the Objectivist theory of art. It overlaps, but needs to be spelled out.

I believe that the cognitive purpose and function of art is to induce a trance.

(There are several kinds of trance and I am researching this right now. So this is not complete, but it is clear enough to the point that I know I am on to something. Art and hypnosis are kissing cousins, so to speak.)

That makes most Objectivist-leaning discussions on what is proper and improper in art meaningless for me. So I'll leave it at that right now.

My horsing-around post was just another way of saying this.

Tease tease tease.rolleyes.gif

I'd like to see you elaborate on all of the above. I do think certain esthetic experiences, maybe esthetic experience in general, is akin to an altered state of consciousness. Some might say, a heightened state of consciousness. But it definitely does seem very different from normal awareness in some respects. As an example, I recall a few years hearing Shostakovich's Symphony No. 11 played live and walking out of the concert afterward feeling like I was still in the music.

I'm not sure this clashes with Rand's or the Objectivist core views of art -- even if the discussions of these usually focus on "what is proper and improper in art," what art is, or defining art.

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It seems you're trying to one-up Cummings. wink.gif

Dan,

It seems you are trying to show off.

The fact is I have read very little of Cummings and I would not know where to begin to engage him in a competition.

He's actually not my favorite poet, though I find him sometimes fun to read. Your post merely reminded me of him. Actually, it reminded me of T. S. Eliot too.

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Here is an addendum.

I have an aesthetic difference with the Objectivist theory of art. It overlaps, but needs to be spelled out.

I believe that the cognitive purpose and function of art is to induce a trance.

(There are several kinds of trance and I am researching this right now. So this is not complete, but it is clear enough to the point that I know I am on to something. Art and hypnosis are kissing cousins, so to speak.)

That makes most Objectivist-leaning discussions on what is proper and improper in art meaningless for me. So I'll leave it at that right now.

My horsing-around post was just another way of saying this.

Michael

Your idea has a long tradition to back it up, but most of that tradition is of the Neo-platonic/Hermetic/Tantric type, so I'd be interested in seeing how you arrived at the result.

Another reason for caution: Lindsay Perigo believes in it too--it's what lies behind his verbiage regarding value swooning or value orgasming or whatever he calls it.

But on the other hand, it was Plato who wanted to get rid of all the poets.

Jeffrey S.

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Another reason for caution: Lindsay Perigo believes in it too--it's what lies behind his verbiage regarding value swooning or value orgasming or whatever he calls it.

Jeff,

Somewhat.

He actually practices is a mishmosh of:

  1. True aesthetic trance,
  2. A force-fit--he eliminates from his awareness certain things he feels by lying to himself--and he uses Rand's sense-of-life concept as a basis (as a human being, he has to feel these things--which are basically universal affects, or deep inner calls to action, that arise from certain kinds of trances--and I base my observation on his writing),
  3. An attitude of "Let me show others how great my soul is from how much I blubber at the right things," and
  4. A cunning eye looking for how he can use all this to insult people and piss them off, thus call attention to himself.

He calls this mess "value swoon."

I call it the whim of an irrational bully.

Perigo likes some great music. So? What does that mean by itself? Hitler liked some great music, too.

As far as tradition goes, I am not basing my thoughts on tradition. I am leaning more in the direction of findings from cognitive science (for the brain scan parts) and, believe it or not, marketing studies (for the behavior testing part).

Michael

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As far as tradition goes, I am not basing my thoughts on tradition. I am leaning more in the direction of findings from cognitive science (for the brain scan parts) and, believe it or not, marketing studies (for the behavior testing part).

Michael

I know that you're not coming at it from any tradition-based viewpoint, which is why I was interested in knowing how you got to it.

Although the tradition part may be as helpful to you as those marketing studies. The ability of music, poetry, dance and some of the other creative arts to induce trance has been known, and studied in detail, for a long time. And I do mean a long time--for instance, the Bible tells of Elisha and Saul inducing prophetic trance by means of music (in, respectively, 1 Kings and 1 Samuel)--in the case of Saul, involuntarily: he met a band of prophets playing music and fell into trance.

Jeffrey S.

Edited by jeffrey smith
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As far as tradition goes, I am not basing my thoughts on tradition. I am leaning more in the direction of findings from cognitive science (for the brain scan parts) and, believe it or not, marketing studies (for the behavior testing part).

Michael

I know that you're not coming at it from any tradition-based viewpoint, which is why I was interested in knowing how you got to it.

Although the tradition part may be as helpful to you as those marketing studies. The ability of music, poetry, dance and some of the other creative arts to induce trance has been known, and studied in detail, for a long time. And I do mean a long time--for instance, the Bible tells of Elisha and Saul inducing prophetic trance by means of music (in, respectively, 1 Kings and 1 Samuel)--in the case of Saul, involuntarily: he met a band of prophets playing music and fell into trance.

In your readings, where do you put some of the earliest cases of this being "studied in detail" -- outside of Plato?

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