#poetic meter

[creatediana]

“Drawing on My Past” - a poem written 11/08/2022

[dkniade]

Ah, so this meter (which I used in Oath of Ancient Freedom and Eve of Ancient Freedom): - / - - / - - / - - /

Is not actually some augmented version of a dactylic trimeter

But rather, a catalectic amphibrachic tetrameter (unstressed-stressed-unstressed meter repeated four times with the final unstressed foot missing)

Fun.

[only-a-lil-defective]

Context: Am English teacher

Trying to teach types of poetic meter using music….but I have the overwhelming urge to use TAAAM music

I am dedicated to the bit at this point but I don’t know what song to use 😭

[skyplayssplatoon3]

THE MOST PAINFUL SALMON RUN CLIP YOU'LL SEE TODAY [Audio On for Maximum Effect]

[scribefindegil]

Most dactylic meters feel like running down a hill just a *little* too fast; you're having fun, and it's fine as long as you keep moving, but you're pretty sure that you couldn't stop if you wanted to so you just have to watch your feet and wait for the bottom.

Dactylic hexameter (especially with spondaic substitutions) feels like you're walking across a ship that you haven't been on long enough for it to feel natural, so you keep thinking you're going to stumble but then the deck catches you every time, and when you hit the end of a line or a sentence it's like you're coming up against the rail and everything feels clear and perfect for half a second. So you take a confident step but as soon as you do one of the dang spondees hits you again.

[mythicalcoolkid]

Another autism thing: I have trouble extrapolating information and double meanings if I'm not expecting to need to

Puns and jokes? Love them. Sarcasm? Mostly good. Analyzing things for meaning? Yup. But things I don't expect to have multiple meanings go right past me and being prompted to find "the next logical step" is often hard for me to deduce

[sevenkittensinatrenchcoat]

The Moments of Happiness and the Meaning of Rhyming

Yeah, weird title, I know.

Also, I know I don't post much here anymore. I have other hyperfixations. But, I still occasionally have Cats-related things to say.

I have some things to say about The Moments of Happiness, the number that opens the second act of the show. Since it's not a dance number and not very catchy, it's often ignored. Some people find it boring. Strangely, I think the fact that it's slow, not catchy, and hard to follow is kind of the point.

What's happening in the story here is that, after the Jellicle Ball at the end of act one, Grizabella shows up and gets rejected by the tribe again. Everyone runs away and hides for a bit, except for Old Deuteronomy, who sits on his throne in the back while Grizabella sings the first part of Memory. Being the Big Good of the show, Old D already likes Griz and wants the tribe to be nice to her. As the leader, you'd think he could just tell the others to behave, but he wants them to understand why they should except Grizabella. A lot of the respect the tribe has for him probably comes from the fact that he doesn't just tell them what to do.

So, after intermission, all the cats come out of hiding and gather around Old Deuteronomy and he tries to explain the themes of Grizabella's role in the story. You experience moments of happiness throughout your life, but your memories of them are something else, and that something has value and...it actually doesn't really matter if the human audience gets it or not. The lecture isn't for us.

But, nobody's getting it. Well, it kind of depends on the production and interpretation here. In replica productions, the way the story usually goes, nobody's getting it. Old D knows that he needs to simplify the message somehow, but it's not really what he does. Honestly, he's just been thinking out loud this whole time and has no idea what he's doing. He basically simplifies the message by sending it through a simpler brain. Coricopat and Tantomile, the most telepathic of cats, help him out here. They sort of connect his mind to Jemima's mind. Jemima is the youngest cat in the tribe. Her mind is not complicated and very open, so it's easy to speak through her. She falls into a trance and delivers Old D's message in her own words, simple words that everyone can understand.

I'm writing this mainly to talk about a detail of the number that sort of allows the audience to feel what the tribe is feeling throughout this, though this isn't exactly universal.

Basically, though not all English language poetry rhymes, it usually does. This is especially true with songs lyrics. Songs in English that were originally written in English almost always rhyme. This is also the case for most European languages. I say that it's not universal because Cats is very popular in Japan and Japanese songs usually don't rhyme. It's just not a priority there. If you listen to Japanese dubs or translations of English songs, you'll notice that the rhyme scheme isn't followed. It's not something Japanese listeners would probably notice. Meanwhile, when Japanese songs are translated into English, you might actually notice that it doesn't rhyme. Listening to the song in Japanese, it sounds normal. But it sounds weird in English. The best English translations of Japanese songs tend to add a rhyme scheme into it to sound more natural in English.

Yeah, I'm getting a little side-tracked here but it's a cool thing I noticed.

So, in English, and a lot of other languages, songs usually rhyme. Why's that important? If you primarily listen to music in a language where songs rhyme, you begin to intuitively expect it. The lack of rhyming starts to mean something. It doesn't mean that the song is bad. There are situations where English song lyrics not rhyming works. The example I usually think of for this is Strawberry Fields Forever. Try to find Beatles songs when explaining music and lyrics. Everyone's listened to the Beatles. Anyway, though the chorus sort of rhymes (fields/real), the verses don't. If you look at the lyrics of the song, this actually makes sense. When you have lyrics like:

I think, I know, I mean...a yes, but it's all wrong

That isn't a coherent sentence. It sounds like someone's thoughts unfiltered. It works as an expression of emotion, but it's not carefully composed. It's raw. It's stream of consciousness. And you're thoughts, raw, unfiltered, don't rhyme. When you're writing rhyming lyrics, you have to think carefully about the words. A lack of rhyme conveys "I'm talking without really thinking through what I'm going to say. This is all off the top of my head."

Old Deuteronomy's part of The Moments of Happiness doesn't rhyme. Every other song in the show rhymes at least a little. Old Deuteronomy is just thinking out loud here. He's still figuring things out as he goes. That's why it's so hard to follow. It's harder to follow the lyrics, so the audience tends to get lost here, which is exactly what's happening to the characters listening.

Then you have Jemima's "Moonlight" bit. We go back to rhyming. There's clarity there that there isn't in the rest of the number. The words have been rephrased in a way that's easier to understand and follow. When you're used to songs rhyming, your brain sort of maps itself onto the rhyme scheme. You follow the lyrics by picking up on and anticipating the rhyme. So we go from something that's hard to follow to something that's easy to follow. Even if you don't get the actual message of what's being said here, the feeling of confusion and clarity is still there.

So, that's pretty cool, I guess.

[milkweedman]

Planted these last spring--I do know they were flowers of some kind (definitely not a variety that's supposed to take almost 18 months to flower though) and until the last few months they've just looked like sad weird squash seedlings but survived several snowstorms, heatwaves, the sun being blotted out by wildfire smoke for a week, and repeated 6 straight months of rain.

Finally bloomed on the last day I have the keys to this apartment.

[i-scan-your-poems]

as someone who knows nothing of poetry, what do the lines and curves mean in the analysis?

On this blog, for English-language poetry,

◡ means an unstressed syllable

– means a stressed syllable

/ means a break between feet (which are minimal repeating units made up of stressed and unstressed syllables, basically)

[creatediana]

“Wanting to Wash Water” - a poem written 2/01/2023

[bellshazes]

uhhh maybe smth with cleo on witchcraft smp for the drabble requests?

every poem an epitaph - The Witch of Time looks for a place to call home.

ὁδὸς ἄνω κάτω μία καὶ ὡυτή The way upward and the way downward is one and the same

In their hands, the flint to light the candles. Candles on altar, altar on stone, old stones that sing each to each in steady iamb heartbeats. No, not heartbeats; the witch of time hasn’t had one of those since time before time - but the metronomic rhythm keeps her hands steady. Flint in hands, candles on altar, altar on stones.

The broomstick waits nearby, not frozen in time but bobbing softly at the ready. Time waits for no one but them, even as it marches its steady pace onward around her. No heart beating, but she expands her ribs and draws the still sea air into their lungs, an echoing chasm in their still center beginning to reverberate with silence, waiting for an answer. 

Altar on stone and candles on altar before her. Old stones that sing to old stones beneath.

In the stillness, the click of the flint on steel sets the beating rhythm not like heartbeats but like the click of an abacus focusing magic, the click of an abacus someone else once held, the click and the click and the click of an abacus echoing against her ribs. The tick of a clock, hours over minutes, minutes over seconds, stacking until the moment unwinds, not a heart beating forward but a crown being turned to beg the watch into movement.

Outside this moment the waves crash far below, but the sea change can’t touch them. Time likes its rhythms, its resonance, and with no heart to follow the witch of time trusted its meter and found a place they could call home. Here, high above, in the stillness, in the echoing, in the cavern of her chest and the steadiness of their hands, Cleo exhales to spark a point of flame and lets the call for counterpoint resound.

Home, sing the stones. Call me home, clicks the abacus. 

Call my home, ticks the clock.

She flies away and lets the song do the searching, releasing the tension in their sides and sternum. Time watched moves slowly, but when they turn the broomstick back around, it’s the blink of an eye or the slide of a bead to find their home called back to her, made unfamiliar by its cool-toned coloring but more comforting for it. Every end a beginning, the old stones made new. 

When they land at the once-familiar entrance and put cold hands to rough stone, a faint warmth is leaving them. I called you home, she thinks. I’ll call you home.

Inside, in time, there will be books and tables under them and shelves around them, places to rest, places to read, to mete out time, to cook and care and grow. It will be comfortable, as it almost always was. At the top of the stairs, at the top of the tower, there will lie one stone that will mark this home as theirs, the echo sounding forth again as she navigates this new world.

When they reach it, its magic will pulse faintly to some long-forgotten beat, some long-forgotten lullaby, some tune so deeply felt it isn’t heard at all. She smiles, their defunct organs still and silent with it once more; there is little time to waste. Eager to return to the place they no longer remember, the Witch of Time moves the future forward and finds themself finally at home.

[depressedraisin]

the internal rhyme in crying lightning goes so hard good lord

[arcaneyouth]

sorry for being poetic and using flowery language every time i try to explain something in detail, communication to me must involve an exchange of emotions and i cannot help but make everything i say into some kind of art to achieve that goal. are you mad at me

[dreamlit-wanderer]

theres something cathartic about seeing a blazed post with a fuckton of tags ranging from tangentially related to not even close and like 10 notes

[atlas-the-mythology]

I hear screams all day long.

I hear my body ache.

I live in a safe place,

yet I recognise bullets better than my face.

Maybe this is, why I can’t understand emotion.

Maybe it’s because I am no longer human.

I have more in common with my shadowmen,

than I do my roommate.

[blueheartbookclub]

"Whispers of Wonderland: Arthur Edward Waite's Dance with the Fairies"

Arthur Edward Waite, known for his profound contributions to mysticism and esotericism, unveils a lesser-known facet of his literary prowess in "A Lyric of the Fairy Land, and Other Poems." This collection, a tapestry of enchanting verses, demonstrates Waite's ability to transcend the boundaries of the mundane and beckon readers into the mystical realms of fairy tales and poetic reverie.

At the heart of the collection lies the titular poem, "A Lyric of the Fairy Land," a mesmerizing composition that serves as a portal to an otherworldly domain. Waite's verses, akin to incantations, evoke a sense of wonder, inviting readers to journey through landscapes where the veil between reality and fantasy is gossamer-thin. The poet employs rich and evocative language, creating a dreamscape where every word is a brushstroke, painting vivid images of ethereal landscapes and magical beings.

Waite's exploration of fairyland is not confined to mere whimsy; it is a profound quest that delves into the essence of human experience. Through the prism of fairy tales, he reflects on themes that resonate universally — love, loss, longing, and the perennial search for meaning. The poet infuses these timeless themes with a unique alchemy, transforming them into something both familiar and extraordinary.

The collection is a testament to Waite's mastery of poetic form and rhythm. Each poem is a carefully crafted jewel, showcasing his ability to weave intricate patterns of rhyme and meter. Whether capturing the ephemeral beauty of nature or delving into the mysteries of the human soul, Waite's verses are imbued with a musicality that enchants the reader and lingers in the mind long after the pages are turned.

As readers traverse the pages of "A Lyric of the Fairy Land," they find themselves in the company of sprites, nymphs, and other fantastical beings. Yet, beneath the surface, Waite invites contemplation on the intersection of the magical and the mundane, encouraging readers to see the extraordinary in the ordinary.

In conclusion, Arthur Edward Waite's "A Lyric of the Fairy Land, and Other Poems" is a captivating journey into realms where imagination reigns supreme. Through his poetic lens, Waite not only revitalizes the enchantment of fairy tales but also provides readers with a mirror to reflect on the deeper facets of their own lives. This collection stands as a testament to the enduring power of poetry to transport, transform, and illuminate the human experience.

"A Lyric of the Fairy Land, and Other Poems." by Arthur Edward Waite is available in Amazon in paperback 10.99$ and hardcover 18.99$ editions.

Number of pages: 136

Language: English

Rating: 8/10                                           

Link of the book!

Review By: King's Cat