Great essay, amusing and full of information. Interesting to hear you discuss immersing yourself in various forms so that they become second nature. Once you've internalized these structures, they are available when the ideas or emotions or imaginative schemes (not sure what to call them) for a poem come up. These structures allow you to "flesh out" the idea, but the idea is the essential thing. Many good poems would be shorter and less satisfying without the expedient of form; many bad poems would be shorter and less tedious without it.
Of course, the premise for this discussion is that poetry is primarily a musical endeavor. Personally--and I am no poet--I think it has more in common with visual and spatial arts, particularly sculpture. To arrange language in blocks, patterns, lines, fundamentally involves how the thing looks, with poems--and this is why there are some I like very much--falling in that area between a thing you see and a thing you read.
I think that today, poetry may certainly have a visual component, but I'd bring up that for every year the printing press has been in existence, poetry has enjoyed about 70 as an oral tradition. It's primarily an oral and auditory art form, especially considering how those outside of literary circles take it in today. Tighter synchronicity with time through meter is one of the ways it separates itself from prose. That's not to say visual aesthetics can't be enjoyed—just that those elements come at a very distant second in terms of how poetry has been used throughout its history.
I love the biking poem and that it sent me on a search for find the word "shred" in relation to riding a bike. I found the information and it felt good to know that word in a new context and I loved what it meant in that wonderful poem. Thank you James.
Beyond just good poetry, one thing I've gotten from following your Substack is some insight, appreciation, and reflection on those old forms.
"There’s a difference between memorizing a chord progression and being able to jam."
Very succinctly put!
--
I like to have some structure and rhyme in my poetry, but tend to just make it (and break it) up as I go along. Those 3 examples have a "patina" and a perhaps forgone sense of dignity that would be hard to make up. Very cool.
Thanks, Hasse! I'd say don't sweat it if, say, sonnets aren't your thing. I personally think that some forms just click with us and others don't, which is what makes everyone's writing such a blast to read. There's something out there for everyone.
That's true. I do like the opportunity to learn from other approaches though. Sonnets might not be my thing, but I'm sure they can still teach me something. And in the meantime, like you say, it's just fun to read all these different kinds of poetry!
Really love your examples, James—and your unfailingly insightful commentary.
"I wouldn’t use the form for quips about bathroom emergencies; that wouldn’t be dignified." That's where you and I differ perhaps. Ha!
I might also say, that although I love the idea that one should make meter/form almost second nature, still there's some level of conscious attention that ought never go away. A musical composer doesn't just scatter notes on the staff according to his calibrated internal metrics. There's the time signature to consider among other things, and if one has long internalized Mozart, for example, there is always the the risk of unconsciously plagiarizing moments imbedded in the soul. No doubt, you agree with that mild qualification given your explicit adherence to the form at hand.
Thanks, J. And yes, I don't even think it's possible to completely internalize form; I occasionally count my syllables just like everybody else!
There was a Disney animator who was taught by one of the Nine Old Men who explained to me that the process is a bit like a spiral: one half is the left-hemisphere work of meter, grammar, definitions, etc., and on the other half you have meaning, feeling, intuition, etc. As we work, we approach our goal not directly but by circling it, and the oscillations between left and right become faster and more subtle. That always struck me as an accurate and insightful way of explaining the process.
I started with sonnets relatively early on; I was still new to formal poetry. Today, I think it'd be much faster but at the time, the iambic pentameter took me a couple of weeks. Mind you, I practiced every day and I made a game out of it. It wasn't so much "let's get down to practicing poetry here at my desk." I'd be in meetings, hear a comment and then reword it in my mind to adhere to the meter. And like I said, grocery and shopping lists were helpful, too.
What took longer was understanding the voice of the form. I used Shakespearean sonnets as teachers for awhile. What are the size and shape of the kinds of ideas the form likes to convey? What kind of language can I personally lend to it? (I didn't want mine to sound like weird imitations of what the Bard might write.) Understanding that took longer, but again I think the trick is just to have fun with it. I beat myself up quite a bit by thinking that practice always had to produce excellent outcomes. I didn't enjoy it nearly as much as I should've and so it took much longer.
That's really well explained, thanks James - I appreciate that. I've been learning the sonnet lately, and I agree, the form has a voice of its own (and as you say in your post a wisdom of its own). I'm starting to grasp that the Volta is an 'arrest' in the motion of the thought, which is an interesting way to look at it, I suppose.
I've also been enjoying T.S Omond's 'A Study of Metre', which Robert Charboneau (a fellow substacker) got me onto. That breaks down metre really helpfully.
Any good resources you'd recommend on the topic, or on poetic 'forms' in general? Or did you just piece this together yourself?
There are a handful of good books on form, but to be honest, I've yet to find one that speaks to the voice of form; most seem fixated on the meter. What I've found far more helpful was just to read a ton and get inspired. (I mean that fairly literally as inspiration is a "breathing in," which is what we've got to do first before we lend our words to something.)
Well done with the verses. Having no formal training in poetry, Drottkvaett's rules aren't something I'm familiar with - but I see a challenge ahead for me. Or more likely for one of the characters in the new book, channelled through me :)
That would be excellent! Not sure if you're familiar, but Jackson Crawford is a great online resource for all things Old Norse. He's got some good tutorials on the form that I found to be great introductions.
If you do decide to incorporate it into your world-building I'd love to read it!
I am familiar with Jackson Crawford but I didn’t know his expertise included this - so I will check it out, thanks. Funnily enough earlier today I stumbled over the start of a poem which I’d begun some years ago that would fit this form (and purpose) - a poem/song about the great deeds of another two characters - so I may use that concept as the basis. It won’t happen quickly - if I keep going off on tangents the novel is never going to get written - but I always like a side project.
Very much so! I had to spend a long time with it to try to understand the kind of voice it prefers to have. It's a bit of a different way to think about writing, that's for sure.
Love the way your examples carry an aroma of the bygone, without sounding antique.
Thanks a ton, Mark. I feel I can't always get it right, but that's the hope, anyway.
Completely agree. I don’t know how you do it. Love to read your work, James.
Thanks for reading, Isaiah! I'm glad you found it worthwhile.
Great essay, amusing and full of information. Interesting to hear you discuss immersing yourself in various forms so that they become second nature. Once you've internalized these structures, they are available when the ideas or emotions or imaginative schemes (not sure what to call them) for a poem come up. These structures allow you to "flesh out" the idea, but the idea is the essential thing. Many good poems would be shorter and less satisfying without the expedient of form; many bad poems would be shorter and less tedious without it.
Of course, the premise for this discussion is that poetry is primarily a musical endeavor. Personally--and I am no poet--I think it has more in common with visual and spatial arts, particularly sculpture. To arrange language in blocks, patterns, lines, fundamentally involves how the thing looks, with poems--and this is why there are some I like very much--falling in that area between a thing you see and a thing you read.
I think that today, poetry may certainly have a visual component, but I'd bring up that for every year the printing press has been in existence, poetry has enjoyed about 70 as an oral tradition. It's primarily an oral and auditory art form, especially considering how those outside of literary circles take it in today. Tighter synchronicity with time through meter is one of the ways it separates itself from prose. That's not to say visual aesthetics can't be enjoyed—just that those elements come at a very distant second in terms of how poetry has been used throughout its history.
BTW, if you want to meet other people who are writing drottkvaett, there are several on my alliterative poetry mailing list (associated with my website, Forgotten Ground Regained, alliteration.net) ... if that appeals, join link is https://gaggle.email/join/forgotten-ground-regained@gaggle.email
I love the biking poem and that it sent me on a search for find the word "shred" in relation to riding a bike. I found the information and it felt good to know that word in a new context and I loved what it meant in that wonderful poem. Thank you James.
So glad you found something you liked, Sandy. Thanks so much as always for reading.
Beyond just good poetry, one thing I've gotten from following your Substack is some insight, appreciation, and reflection on those old forms.
"There’s a difference between memorizing a chord progression and being able to jam."
Very succinctly put!
--
I like to have some structure and rhyme in my poetry, but tend to just make it (and break it) up as I go along. Those 3 examples have a "patina" and a perhaps forgone sense of dignity that would be hard to make up. Very cool.
Thanks, Hasse! I'd say don't sweat it if, say, sonnets aren't your thing. I personally think that some forms just click with us and others don't, which is what makes everyone's writing such a blast to read. There's something out there for everyone.
That's true. I do like the opportunity to learn from other approaches though. Sonnets might not be my thing, but I'm sure they can still teach me something. And in the meantime, like you say, it's just fun to read all these different kinds of poetry!
Really love your examples, James—and your unfailingly insightful commentary.
"I wouldn’t use the form for quips about bathroom emergencies; that wouldn’t be dignified." That's where you and I differ perhaps. Ha!
I might also say, that although I love the idea that one should make meter/form almost second nature, still there's some level of conscious attention that ought never go away. A musical composer doesn't just scatter notes on the staff according to his calibrated internal metrics. There's the time signature to consider among other things, and if one has long internalized Mozart, for example, there is always the the risk of unconsciously plagiarizing moments imbedded in the soul. No doubt, you agree with that mild qualification given your explicit adherence to the form at hand.
Thanks, J. And yes, I don't even think it's possible to completely internalize form; I occasionally count my syllables just like everybody else!
There was a Disney animator who was taught by one of the Nine Old Men who explained to me that the process is a bit like a spiral: one half is the left-hemisphere work of meter, grammar, definitions, etc., and on the other half you have meaning, feeling, intuition, etc. As we work, we approach our goal not directly but by circling it, and the oscillations between left and right become faster and more subtle. That always struck me as an accurate and insightful way of explaining the process.
Yes, well put indeed.
Can I ask how long it took you to get the 'rules' of the sonnet, say, into your bones?
I started with sonnets relatively early on; I was still new to formal poetry. Today, I think it'd be much faster but at the time, the iambic pentameter took me a couple of weeks. Mind you, I practiced every day and I made a game out of it. It wasn't so much "let's get down to practicing poetry here at my desk." I'd be in meetings, hear a comment and then reword it in my mind to adhere to the meter. And like I said, grocery and shopping lists were helpful, too.
What took longer was understanding the voice of the form. I used Shakespearean sonnets as teachers for awhile. What are the size and shape of the kinds of ideas the form likes to convey? What kind of language can I personally lend to it? (I didn't want mine to sound like weird imitations of what the Bard might write.) Understanding that took longer, but again I think the trick is just to have fun with it. I beat myself up quite a bit by thinking that practice always had to produce excellent outcomes. I didn't enjoy it nearly as much as I should've and so it took much longer.
That's really well explained, thanks James - I appreciate that. I've been learning the sonnet lately, and I agree, the form has a voice of its own (and as you say in your post a wisdom of its own). I'm starting to grasp that the Volta is an 'arrest' in the motion of the thought, which is an interesting way to look at it, I suppose.
I've also been enjoying T.S Omond's 'A Study of Metre', which Robert Charboneau (a fellow substacker) got me onto. That breaks down metre really helpfully.
Any good resources you'd recommend on the topic, or on poetic 'forms' in general? Or did you just piece this together yourself?
There are a handful of good books on form, but to be honest, I've yet to find one that speaks to the voice of form; most seem fixated on the meter. What I've found far more helpful was just to read a ton and get inspired. (I mean that fairly literally as inspiration is a "breathing in," which is what we've got to do first before we lend our words to something.)
Well done with the verses. Having no formal training in poetry, Drottkvaett's rules aren't something I'm familiar with - but I see a challenge ahead for me. Or more likely for one of the characters in the new book, channelled through me :)
That would be excellent! Not sure if you're familiar, but Jackson Crawford is a great online resource for all things Old Norse. He's got some good tutorials on the form that I found to be great introductions.
If you do decide to incorporate it into your world-building I'd love to read it!
I am familiar with Jackson Crawford but I didn’t know his expertise included this - so I will check it out, thanks. Funnily enough earlier today I stumbled over the start of a poem which I’d begun some years ago that would fit this form (and purpose) - a poem/song about the great deeds of another two characters - so I may use that concept as the basis. It won’t happen quickly - if I keep going off on tangents the novel is never going to get written - but I always like a side project.
Very nice. Drottkvaett is a bear to carry off even in approximation in modern English!
Very much so! I had to spend a long time with it to try to understand the kind of voice it prefers to have. It's a bit of a different way to think about writing, that's for sure.
that's a hard form...yours are awesome. I tried that once:
https://ordinaryaverageguy.substack.com/p/john-henry
Very nice! Yes indeed, it's not exactly a forgiving form.
Loves me some structure and rhythm. Structure and freedom. Odd bedfellows.