Some welcome help from Glenny - Worth Reading
Posted: Sun Nov 03, 2013 12:12 pm
This is not a poem that I did for homework - but one that is worth putting up here for other poets to see the helpful comments that Glenny has supplied.
I am the first to admit that this stress thingy is something that I struggle with (still) but Glenny explains it so well and makes it look so easy that I don't know why my thick head won't take it onboard - but thats another story and not what this is about. I like the Bonza's that Glenny has put it
You can see the excellent suggestions that Glenny has made and why......
(the bold type is to highlight the stressed syllables.)
ANNIVERSARY
I sit with in these bare four walls and raise a glass to you
an oth er year has passed and gone and I am old er too. (ALL PERFECT!!)
I do not make a wish for there in lies fu til it y. ( up to here.)
I do not light the cand les for none cel eb rate with me.
(although I would prefer ‘‘I sit within these four bare walls’’…much better alliteration.)
I do not count my bless ings for look a round and you’ll see,
Maureen, this ^ is a perfect example of how placing the stress upon the wrong syllable can bugger up what is otherwise perfect meter. We do not pronounce ‘around’ as ‘A- round’ We say ‘ a- ROUND’ The way you have written this line we are obliged to prounounce it in that ridiculous manner to maintain the meter = ‘forced meter.’
I suggest:
I do not count my bless ings; look a round and you will see,
my bless ings dis app eared with your A dieu. bonza
------------------------------
The church yard stones grow moss and lich en in the ring ed shade
Do you mean us to prounounce ‘ringed’ as RING-ed (two syllables)? If not may I suggest ‘weeping’ or some other two syllable word.
and faded blooms in old glass jars are everywhere displayed. bonza
E ter nal life is short, it’s one thing that can’t be bought, (only 6 stressed where 7 is required)
Simply say ‘can not’ instead of ‘can’t’..(and employ a semi-colon after ‘short.’)
Eg.
E ter nal life is short; it’s one thing that can not be bought (although the lyricism is a tad lost with the ‘that’……perhaps…
E ter nal life is short; it’s some thing nev er to be bought…….??
yet daily we are striving for the answer. It is sought bonza
to pro long life. But why? When we squand er lives with wars fought –
can you see how we need to pronounce ‘squander’ (SQUAN der) as ‘squan DER’ to force the otherwise perfect meter? Your meter is correct…but…your placement of the stressed syllable is not ! & it buggers up the rhythm. Of course we are not going to pronounce ‘squander’ as ‘squanDER’ so try speaking it as we normally do, & would do, reading this poem….& your rhythm is stuffed.
suggest:
to pro long life. But why? When lives are squand ered; wars are fought –
despite the pious pleas of those who prayed. bonza
I look with anguished eyes out through the window’s soul-less pane
I hear the call of peacocks begging ‘Help’ from ancient Greeks;
one hundred eyes of Argus evermore his Hera seeks,
but they are all long gone now and ‘tis only legend speaks,
though in my head I hear you call my name.
(all good. But see minor punctuation tweaks)
And so my dear Maureen….if you choose to implement my suggestions, or make your own adaptions, this is how your truly beautiful poem will look….all sparkly! Lol (and a potential prize winner!!)
ANNIVERSARY
I sit within these four bare walls and raise a glass to you
another year has passed and gone and I am older too.
I do not make a wish for therein lies futility.
I do not light the candles for none celebrate with me.
I do not count my blessings; look around and you will see,
my blessings disappeared with your Adieu.
The churchyard stones grow moss and lichen in the weeping shade
and faded blooms in old glass jars are everywhere displayed.
Eternal life is short, it’s something never to be bought,
yet daily we are striving for the answer. It is sought
to prolong life. But why? When lives are squandered; wars are fought –
despite the pious pleas of those who prayed.
I look with anguished eyes out through the window’s soul-less pane
across the drying paddocks that are parched from lack of rain.
I hear the call of peacocks begging ‘Help’ from ancient Greeks;
one hundred eyes of Argus evermore his Hera seeks,
but they are all long gone now and ‘tis only legend speaks,
though in my head I hear you call my name
I am the first to admit that this stress thingy is something that I struggle with (still) but Glenny explains it so well and makes it look so easy that I don't know why my thick head won't take it onboard - but thats another story and not what this is about. I like the Bonza's that Glenny has put it
You can see the excellent suggestions that Glenny has made and why......
(the bold type is to highlight the stressed syllables.)
ANNIVERSARY
I sit with in these bare four walls and raise a glass to you
an oth er year has passed and gone and I am old er too. (ALL PERFECT!!)
I do not make a wish for there in lies fu til it y. ( up to here.)
I do not light the cand les for none cel eb rate with me.
(although I would prefer ‘‘I sit within these four bare walls’’…much better alliteration.)
I do not count my bless ings for look a round and you’ll see,
Maureen, this ^ is a perfect example of how placing the stress upon the wrong syllable can bugger up what is otherwise perfect meter. We do not pronounce ‘around’ as ‘A- round’ We say ‘ a- ROUND’ The way you have written this line we are obliged to prounounce it in that ridiculous manner to maintain the meter = ‘forced meter.’
I suggest:
I do not count my bless ings; look a round and you will see,
my bless ings dis app eared with your A dieu. bonza
------------------------------
The church yard stones grow moss and lich en in the ring ed shade
Do you mean us to prounounce ‘ringed’ as RING-ed (two syllables)? If not may I suggest ‘weeping’ or some other two syllable word.
and faded blooms in old glass jars are everywhere displayed. bonza
E ter nal life is short, it’s one thing that can’t be bought, (only 6 stressed where 7 is required)
Simply say ‘can not’ instead of ‘can’t’..(and employ a semi-colon after ‘short.’)
Eg.
E ter nal life is short; it’s one thing that can not be bought (although the lyricism is a tad lost with the ‘that’……perhaps…
E ter nal life is short; it’s some thing nev er to be bought…….??
yet daily we are striving for the answer. It is sought bonza
to pro long life. But why? When we squand er lives with wars fought –
can you see how we need to pronounce ‘squander’ (SQUAN der) as ‘squan DER’ to force the otherwise perfect meter? Your meter is correct…but…your placement of the stressed syllable is not ! & it buggers up the rhythm. Of course we are not going to pronounce ‘squander’ as ‘squanDER’ so try speaking it as we normally do, & would do, reading this poem….& your rhythm is stuffed.
suggest:
to pro long life. But why? When lives are squand ered; wars are fought –
despite the pious pleas of those who prayed. bonza
I look with anguished eyes out through the window’s soul-less pane
I hear the call of peacocks begging ‘Help’ from ancient Greeks;
one hundred eyes of Argus evermore his Hera seeks,
but they are all long gone now and ‘tis only legend speaks,
though in my head I hear you call my name.
(all good. But see minor punctuation tweaks)
And so my dear Maureen….if you choose to implement my suggestions, or make your own adaptions, this is how your truly beautiful poem will look….all sparkly! Lol (and a potential prize winner!!)
ANNIVERSARY
I sit within these four bare walls and raise a glass to you
another year has passed and gone and I am older too.
I do not make a wish for therein lies futility.
I do not light the candles for none celebrate with me.
I do not count my blessings; look around and you will see,
my blessings disappeared with your Adieu.
The churchyard stones grow moss and lichen in the weeping shade
and faded blooms in old glass jars are everywhere displayed.
Eternal life is short, it’s something never to be bought,
yet daily we are striving for the answer. It is sought
to prolong life. But why? When lives are squandered; wars are fought –
despite the pious pleas of those who prayed.
I look with anguished eyes out through the window’s soul-less pane
across the drying paddocks that are parched from lack of rain.
I hear the call of peacocks begging ‘Help’ from ancient Greeks;
one hundred eyes of Argus evermore his Hera seeks,
but they are all long gone now and ‘tis only legend speaks,
though in my head I hear you call my name
