22 August, 2012 § 13 Comments
Check this out! This is the best review of literature reviews that I’ve read in a long time.
28 April, 2011 § Leave a comment
This is an introduction to Meter as it relates to counting syllables as well as a chart you can use while attempting to write highly structured poetry. So enjoy, if something needs explaining please comment and I’ll try to expand on it in any following posts.
[Singular / Plural]
Iamb / Iambic = x /
Trochee / Trochaic = / x [Opposite of Iambic]
Anapest / Anapestic = x x /
Dactyl / Dactylic = / / x [Opposite of Anapestic]
Unfortunately I’ve only found these useful for categorizing a strict syllable driven poem as you will see in my example. It may work well for Twas the Night Before Christmas, but rather poorly on something like Herrick’s, To the Virgins to Make Much of Time.
[Meter = Foot, thus, manometer = one foot. The Latin number always precedes how many feet are present.]
1Manometer = One Foot Example: 1 x /
2Dimeter = Two Feet Example: 1 x x /, 2 x /
3Trimeter = Three Feet Example: 1 / x, 2 / x, 3 / x
4Tetrameter = Four Feet Example: 1 / / x, 2 / x, 3 / / x, 4 x /
5Pentameter = Five Feet Example: 1 x x /, 2 / / x, 3 x x /, 4 x /, 5 / / x
6Hexameter = Six Feet Example: 1 x /, 2 x /, 3 x /, 4 / x, 5 / x, 6 / x
To the Virgins, to Make Much of Time
ax x/, d/ / x, ix /
Gather ye rosebuds while ye may,
t/ x, t/ x, ax x /
Old time is still a-flying :
t/ x, t / x, t/ x, ix /
And this same flower that smiles to-day
ax x /, ix /, ix /
Tomorrow will be dying.
Twas the Night before Christmas [tetrameter]
d//x d//x d//x d//x
Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
d//x d//x d//x d//x
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.
axx/ a xx/ axx/ t/x
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
axx/ axx/ axx/ t/x
In hopes that Saint Nicholas soon would be there.
Check out my poetry on Allpoetry.com
10 October, 2010 § Leave a comment
In calm serenity,
I sit and ponder kindness
(oozing the results of my own.)
4 October, 2010 § Leave a comment
The sight of Crystal Lake in coolness fresh, it overwhelms me.
In Old Vermont, in Irasburg, that’s where I’d like to be.
The Halls of Danville springing alive, in dance and celebration.
In each home a softer glow of warmth and resignation.
The old farm house in Waterford, with Briar and all the cats,
long walks down the leaf strewn road, the attic filled with bats.
Oh to see the reddening leaves of bustling St. J,
The house on Costa Avenue, now empty it does lay.
To sit in Boxcar and Caboose and read to hearts content,
or defy the cold, to Carman’s go and try the Chocolate Mint.
I would like to be there sir, but here I am to be,
And someday I will see again the lake at Willoughby.
For now I reminisce; the sights and sounds of autumn’s breeze,
For certain that of Old Vermont in which I am at ease.
Today is the two year anniversary of this poem that I wrote in Pottersville New York. I still feel the same way, Ohio has a harsher autumn than New York or Vermont.