Appendix Poets on Poetry Free Verse; Verse Free? Fon Glover
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Appendix Poets on Poetry Free verse; verse free? fon Glover Whenever one thinks about metre, rhyme and free versel one reaches for the experts or for one's childhood or for examples. Giving an account of what a poet has done is hard enough; there are so many, often contradictory, ways of showing up (must we always 'analyse'?) what is there in a poem. Saying what has been done well is just as hard and saying what a poet should do now is virtually impossible. It is interesting to reflect on the extent to which we, as critics and poets, learn to praise 'unity'. Thus we look to the 'overall context' of the way in which a poem organises lines and rhythms to govern the reading of particular lines and phrases. Take, for example, the opening lines of 'Strange Meeting' by Wilfred Owen2 and 'Death of a Son' by Jon Silkin.3 Owen's 'It seemed that out of battle I escaped ...' and Silkin's 'Something has ceased to come along with me' taken in isolation have some similarities. Both place the subject in a state of uncertainty ('It seemed ...', 'Something has ceased ... '). Both create the illusion of using simple English in a grammatically normal, conversational way. In fact both are probably quite unlike the way one would use these words as part of a 'real' conversation (Q: 'Where have you been?' A: 'It seemed that out of the battle ... '; Q: 'What have you lost?' A: 'Something has ceased ...' Probably not). The 'oddness' of the verbal structure in each case is possibly linked to the fact they are both ten-syllable lines with a fairly clear iambic echo in the background. They sound natural because of the regularity of the echo although the natural word order has impli citly been altered to establish or 'fit' the echo. After several read ings one forgets that there could be any other way of structuring those words. But both first lines are completely altered when the second line is added; the rhythms of each are transformed, not least because Owen's first line needs to fit into the grammar of the 1. Actually the title of a lc:£reshingly approachable book. G.5. Fraser, Metre, Rhyme and Free Verse (London: Methuen 1970). 2. Jon Stalworthy, ed., The Poems ofWilfred Owen (London: The Hogarth Press, 1985). 3. Jon Silkin, Selected Poems (London: Sinclair-Stevenson, 1994). 369 370 The Life of Metrical and Free Verse whole three-line sentence whereas Silkin's stops, the iambic echo is 'refused' and he establishes an initial thoughtful hesitancy: It seemed that out of battle I escaped Down some profound dull tunnel, long since scooped Through granites which titanic wars had groined. Something has ceased to come along with me. Something like a person: something very like one. And there was no nobility in it Or anything like that. In Owen the alliterative drive quickly emerges and this profoundly affects the iambic potential which is largely counterbalanced by the force of something like a Middle English stress count. The lines on paper are defined clearly by syllable count, stress/alliterative count and para-rhyme although, probably, if one simply heard the poem read out loud the 'movement' of the grammatical sense units between lines and across line endings would make the listener feel he was hearing complex free verse. After its initial 'refusals' both in the sense (,Something ... Something ... no ... anything ...') and the rhythms, Silkin's poem becomes equally 'rhetorical' in its progress to a dramatic conclusion. Yet it turns out that the repetitions and the implicit question and answer structure of the poem as a whole, which sound highly organized, are not part of a metrical, regularly repeating stanza pattern but are actually a form of 'spaced out' free verse. Again, the listener might be deceived, it does not sound like what one 'sees' on the page. But the demand for unity - some defining characteristic - as a way of 'explaining' either the qualities of 'free verse' or 'patterned verse', of whatever form, may itself be a red herring. I remember being impressed (and relieved) by the discovery of 'prose poems' and poems like William Carlos Williams' Paterson, which incorpor ated whole sections of 'real' prose. I liked the changes of gear from verse to prose as much as the rhythmic qualities of each. Was I making the best of a bad job by identifying in other poets the 'discontinuity' of perception implicit in the different organising 'visions' of combined and contrasted verse and prose as a new, over riding principle? Would I be 'failing' as a poet if I used this prin ciple of 'discontinuous' versification and 'dislocated' vision myself rather than writing in conventional stanzas or, at least, aiming for Free verse; verse free? 371 respectable free verse? Was poetry that used prose the easiest game of tennis without a net: prose as the ultimate form of free verse? The first poem to be written of the Our Photographs! sequence, which was to dominate much of my work for twenty years, was a prose poem, 'Away'. Many others have combined the relative free dom of prose with a more 'concentrated' passage of verse. The verse itself has varied from free verse using short or long 'sense units' to break lines to poems which use a fairly strict syllable count. However, I am aware that a syllable count which does not have an ear cocked to rhythmic pattern can become arbitrary or awkward. A recent reviewer, Keith Silver/ has said that the combined prose and verse poems mark a failure of 'versatility in each form'. Per haps. I suppose I feel enormous respect for any contemporary poet who can, with confidence, use regular patteming structures. Equally, I respect those whose free verse takes on an identifiable, charac teristic tone. Am I a victim of 'hearing' too much? Or not enough? Should it all sound 'better' than I can make it now? Could some one else turn my prose into decent free verse? Would this be a form of 'translation' or just a demonstration of better 'craftsmanship'? How does any poet, looking at the blank piece of paper in front of him, 'know'? 1. Ion Glover Our Photographs (Manchester: Carcanet, 1986). 2. P.N. Review, 105 (Manchester: University of Manchester, Sept.-Oct. 1995), p. 71. Mixed modes Dennis Silk I It struck me there was an important point you turned away from. Will one passage of verse combine the apparently antithetical fea tures, or will say a passage in free verse follow a metrical one? And how will it follow? Will it derive from the previous passage by restating or discussing part of the earlier metrical passage in free verse, doing variations on it, then continuing its own course till a metrical passage succeeds it in the same way? Or is there a way of fusing rhythmically the metrical and free verse passages into one passage? Something very like this happens in some stanzas of Berryman's Dream Songs. He seems to be testing the limits of song. I believe some kind of marriage of the two will be consummated, maybe by a new new shift in our hearing. (Both 'news' intended.) In the old account of the digging of the Silwan tunnel, the miners began at opposite ends, then steered toward one another in the dark as each group of miners heard the other at work. 11 A TENTATIVE NOTE ON METRE AND FREE VERSE In the case of Eliot and Pound, perhaps even Auden and MacNeice, casting around for freer rhythms they had a firm base in traditional metres that can't be taken for granted with later poets. The main cause, probably, is the diminished study of Greek and Latin at school, though there are other general changes in the sense of rhythm that block use of the older metres. To offset this, perhaps poetry workshops should be run by poets with a good sense of both metre and the several kinds of free verse, and with students who study both. It may be objected that practice of one style precludes another, or at any rate its incorporation into one's own style. I believe there can only be clear gain. For the first time, the entire history of English poetry is spread out before us. Poets not properly edited till now include the 372 Mixed modes 373 indispensable Wyatt, Skelton, Smart, Swift, Rochester and Clare. The feminists are clarifying also their own canon of lost women poets, for instance Lady Mary Wroth. It would be sad to lose this new perspective out of a narrow adherence to one form or other of free verse. The open field is wide and long enough to include past (how past?) poetry and the Black Mountain school. I envisage a cutting room where rhythm has been cut into a huge number of shapes. Unborn rhythms circulate also in this room, and wait for new shapes to be cut out of them by patient and cour ageous poets. Rhythm extends the entire length and breadth of this room, malleable and generous, and looks around nervously for sharp-eared poets. Another image would be of a new kind of loom, with more than the one warp and weft. These infinite series of threads will work their way into one another, in ways hard to imagine now. The cloth they weave would be the marriage of the centuries. A few tentative suggestions, for the most part about longish poems ... The first lines of a section following a section say in hexameters recapitulates in free verse some of its images and meanings, high lights them, develops them according to its own lOgiC, then chan nels its rhythms into a third section, perhaps in couplets.