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Rhythm: Poetry in Our Hearts

Miles to Go Before I Sleep | The brilliant iambic tetrameter of Robert Frost
{Source}

Some of you may recall that back in May, I participated in “Five Minute Friday,” a group writing exercise hosted by Lisa-Jo Baker.  I found it to be such a valuable exercise for me as a writer to explore the art of conciseness and recognize that I don’t need to belabor over a text for hours upon end in order for it be blog-worthy.  Sometimes five minutes in more than enough time to say something of significance.  Especially when there’s a focus.

Here’s a quick refresher of how it works:

  • Each week, Lisa-Jo Baker provides a new topic on which to write.  This week’s topic is rhythm.
  • You set a timer and write for five minutes only.  No more.  No less.
  • This is freewriting, which means there’s no stopping, no going back, no editing.  Scary, I know.  And I confess I edit my spelling, punctuation, and grammar.  It’s the English teacher in me.
  • She invites you (yes, you!) to participate and then link up your post at her blog.  You can read all about it by visiting here.

So, now that we’re all on the same page, let’s get to it.  Here are my five minutes on rhythm.

Rhythm: Poetry in Our Hearts

GO

Da-dum.  Da-dum.  Da-dum.  Da-dum.  Da-dum.

To get the rhythm of iambic pentameter into our bodies, my college professor Mark Lewis would have us gallop around Setzuan, hand on heart, tapping out the low stress, high stress as we spoke it.  “My mistress’ eyes are nothing like the sun.”

I brought that same technique into my English classroom when teaching poetry, but since we had a room of 31 desks and not enough space to gallop without causing serious injury, I had them sit, with hands on heart, beating out the rhythm of Robert Frost on their chests.  “Whose woods these are I think I know.  His house is in the village though….”

What Shakespeare knew and Mr. Frost knew is that the iamb is our life blood, and when you affix words onto the rhythm of the beating heart, it cuts to the core.  It becomes text we almost instantaneously know–a second cousin we’ve never met before, but who’s eyes looking back at us mirror our own.  Even when not conscious of it, every moment of every day, we’re tromping on in iambs…beating out poetry in our hearts.

“These woods are lovely, dark, and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.”

STOP.

Dear reader, what rhythm does your heart beat to?  Which poets speak to your heart?

Click here to read my first Five Minute Friday post, Brave.

And click the button below to join in the Five Minute Friday fun!  It’s a great community of bloggers over there…and they love to blog hop!

Five Minute Friday

I so appreciate you taking the time to read my words on Rhythm and wish you all a happy Friday!

{Linking up here.}

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40 Comments

  1. Mmm…this exercise takes me back to Dr. Davis days, of starting our class with free-writing exercises. I miss it. And I love that your writing also took me back to Mark Lewis days, of carefree, happy heart galloping in Acting Shakespeare. Thanks for the sweet reminders. It was great to read Mom and Dad’s shared poems as well!

    1. I miss it, too! In fact, I thought about Dr. Davis and Mark Lewis a lot this past week at Honeyrock Camp. I must email them and let them know that they pop up in our thoughts and conversations regularly.

  2. Wow! Beautiful! Robert Frost is a favorite in our house. From now on I will think of the tapping of the heartbeat when we read his poetry.

    1. That makes me smile to imagine you tapping out the heartbeat to iambic pentameter or tetrameter, Taryn! Hope it enhances your experience of reading poetry as it has mine.

  3. Lovely post Lauren! I really enjoyed it and it made me think about the poetry of our beating hearts – what a beautiful and intricate creation our God has made. I love to read, but I’m not much of a literature dissector, I must admit. But this post spoke more to my science-y side and how science and poetry come together. When I was a professor of pharmacy I taught a course in physical assessment and instructed the students in the techniques of listening to the heart, exploring for “normal” heart sounds as well as those that indicate problem. As I read your post I kept going back to those experiences, trying to put poetry to that “lub-dub” sound of a beating heart. Thanks for making me think today. And while I have no favorite poet, I am definitely in love with many of the poets of traditional hymns – how the simple words set to music take me to a place of great worship. As for this period of life, our family definitely enjoys Shel Silverstein. “There’s too many kids in this tub…”

    1. I love that you were able to connect to this post from a scientific perspective, Jessica! Makes me wish we could do a collaborative class together on the rhythm of poetry and the rhythm of our bodies! (Perhaps in heaven one day?)

      And I recently stumbled across one of my old pins that I wish I had thought to include in this post when I wrote it. But it looks like my college professor wasn’t the first one to note the connection between iambs and our beating heart. Sylvia Plath did, too: http://pinterest.com/pin/273312271108873107/ Powerful image, huh?

      And you’re so right about the lyrics of hymns being poetry, rich with imagery, cutting to the quick, conjuring wells of tears. “When I Survey,” “Come Thou Fount,” and “Be Thou My Vision” come to mind right now. In fact, I might need to start a Pandora station of hymnody immediatamente! Thanks for the inspiration, my friend.

      1. Somehow I missed your reply from last month, but I had to write back to tell you that you just named my 3 favorite hymns. “Be Thou My Vision” was sung at my wedding and I sing it almost every night to my children.

        1. I can’t think of anything more soothing than being sung to sleep with “Be Thou My Vision.” #supermom

  4. Laur,
    You have inspired and given voice to my entire evening. Thank you! Although the following poem has no affinity for Marmie’s and Wordsworth’s wonderful daffodils, it’s one that never fails to affect me strongly since I had to analyze it in college. Some of the most iconic verbal images of the 20th century came from “The Second Coming” by William Butler Yeats, written after the devastating deaths of World War I (as chronicled recently in Downton Abbey) and the fear of more conflicts to come. Powerful in imagery, not hopeful, but not entirely hopeless, quoted throughout the arts by voices as far afield as Batman, Gordon Gekko (Michael Douglas) in Wall Street, V in “V for Vendetta,” and Joan Didion, the nonfiction writer, to name just a few. Recently Sec’y of State John Kerry was said to be “slouching toward Damascus,” parphrasing it. You have driven me back to admire the power of the rythmic pen in the poems I read in this blog– with tears in my eyes at the amazing talents of the poets and their shimmering creations. Thanks for getting me to put down the Wall St. Journal’s prose for a celebration of words beyond description. An unanticipated yet welcome respite from everyday noise and uh-huhs.
    Love,
    Dad

    The Second Coming

    Turning and turning in the widening gyre
    The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
    Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
    Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
    The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
    The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
    The best lack all conviction, while the worst
    Are full of passionate intensity.

    Surely some revelation is at hand;
    Surely the Second Coming is at hand.
    The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out
    When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi
    Troubles my sight: somewhere in sands of the desert
    A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
    A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
    Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
    Reel shadows of the indignant desert birds.
    The darkness drops again; but now I know
    That twenty centuries of stony sleep
    Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
    And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
    Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?

    1. You know what, Dad? Reading your comment was a poem in and of itself! The artful arrangement of words is there. All that is needed is line breaks. See:

      “You have driven me back”

      You have driven me back to admire the power
      of the rythmic pen in the poems I read
      in this blog– with tears
      in my eyes
      at the amazing talents of the poets and their shimmering creations.

      Thanks for getting me to put down the Wall St. Journal’s prose
      for a celebration of words beyond description.

      An unanticipated yet welcome respite
      from everyday noise
      and uh-huhs.

      -J.C.

      And thank you for reposting “The Second Coming” here for me and for passers-by to read. Wow. This poem is thick with imagery! In particular that last couplet:

      “And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
      Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?”

      I imagine you and I could dissect this poem for hours over ice cream…relishing in its twist and turns, the pictures it paints in our minds, Yeats’ diction far from accidental. But rather than dissect it tonight, I’ll just enjoy it again…as I did when you first posted it. I, too, will enjoy the power of the rhythmic pen and all that it conjures.

      Love,
      Laur

  5. Beautifully written. I loved hearing about Mark Lewis’ teaching technique and yours with your blessed students.
    I had Dr. Clyde Kilby for Romantic Literature at Wheaton and he gave me a love for the poetry of Wm. Wordsworth…we had to memorize several poems including my favorite…
    I WANDERED lonely as a cloud
    That floats on high o’er vales and hills,
    When all at once I saw a crowd,
    A host, of golden daffodils;
    Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
    Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

    Continuous as the stars that shine
    And twinkle on the milky way,
    They stretched in never-ending line
    Along the margin of a bay:
    Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
    Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

    The waves beside them danced; but they
    Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
    A poet could not but be gay,
    In such a jocund company:
    I gazed–and gazed–but little thought
    What wealth the show to me had brought:

    For oft, when on my couch I lie
    In vacant or in pensive mood,
    They flash upon that inward eye
    Which is the bliss of solitude;
    And then my heart with pleasure fills,
    And dances with the daffodils.

    1. Oh, Clyde Kilby. What a gem of a professor he was! And I love that you and I both fell in love with Romantic Literature class at Wheaton…just a generation apart…and that it was because of that class that I met Mark and no longer wandered lonely as a cloud. 🙂 (Thanks for including the poem below. Do you still have it memorized?)

      1. You are too clever to mention that since meeting Mark you no longer “wander lonely as a cloud!” Love it!
        I have the poem still sort of memorized. I actually copied and pasted it from an on-line source. I realize that in my memory I had changed some phrases…like I remembered it as “when suddenly I saw a crowd, a host, of golden daffodils” when it’s apparently “when all at once I saw a crowd…” I think I could get it back into the old grey cells pretty quickly. I remember quoting it often the August I met Mor Mor in England and we went to the Lake District where Wordsworth wrote it!

        1. Wow! How “romantic” that you got to quote that text during your time abroad when so close to the place where the words were penned! Powerful stuff. And that’s funny that you mention changing some of the phrases in your memory. I have done the same with certain words and phrases of William Blake’s classic poem, “The Tyger,” which I memorized with Dr. Martindale in our Romantic Literature class all those years ago. Our brains are tricksy things!

  6. Lauren, I stopped by in May and chanced upon your blog again. I say, keep writing with us at FMF! You blog brought me back to high school–we did things like galloping in English class and moving to our particular part in honors choir, hands all waving around with Pachabel’s canon (slightly dangerous, especially on the choral risers). Good teaching! Glad I stopped by again.

    1. Thanks for the repeat visit, Elizabeth! And for the encouragement to continue with FMF! I’m a huge fan and will aim to participate at least once a month, if not more. Ha ha, and I love that you galloped in your high school English class and waved your hands in choir (sounds like my kinda school!). I’m a kinesthetic learner, so I suppose I try to make sure to have activities that speak to other kinesthetic learners in my classes. Plus, everyone needs a little blood flow during the school day! 🙂 Happy weekend to you.

    1. Do it, do it, do it! {chanting with fist in the air} And I’d do the exercise without feeling pressured to post it if you’re not happy with it. But I’ve been really surprised at how much I can get out onto the page that I’m actually proud of when I don’t over-think it. (We are our own worst enemies sometimes, aren’t we?) And the FMF community is so supportive! You’re bound to get a few folk over to see your post who have nothing but sweetness to say. They really are great cheerleaders. (Let me know if you do post; I’ll cheer you on, too!)

  7. Okay, I crossed my daily dose of new english word now 😮

    It’s a lovely text, really!

    And this sounds definitely like a great way to write, but I would need much more practice. Or I should write 5 minutes in German and then translate, because 5 minutes writing English… It would take too much time for the dictionary!

    Love, Midsommarflicka

    (PS: My post about the nightstand is finally online ;))

    1. Ha ha. “Iambic pentameter” really is a mouthful, isn’t it? My freshmen always looked at me like I had three heads when I first uttered those words. I dared them to use the phrase in a sentence at the dinner table to impress their parents. Several of them took me up on it!

      And yes, I do think that if you ever took on FMF, you should write first in German, then translate. You want to be able to write quickly and without thought of grammar, spelling, punctuation. That’s the key to freewriting! And it really is…well…freeing. I hope you try it sometime!

      And thanks for the heads-up on the nightstand! I’m popping over now to see it.

  8. this was LOVELY and I guess my heart beats to great music and natures rhythm of wind blowing and swaying trees and birds chirping and good stuff like that! Happy Sweet Friday Lauren!

    1. I love it. Your comment reads like poetry, Kelly! Hope you had a wonderful weekend, my friend.

    1. Robert Frost is really so accessible, isn’t he? “The Road Not Taken” and “Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening” are two of my favorite poems of all time. And I never really *got* science, so we could have been best buds in high school and helped each other with homework. “If I could turn back time….”

    1. Ahhhh! and Ahhhh! (First “ahhhh!” for your soulmate proof. Second “ahhhh!” for mentioning your love of Jewel’s “A Night Without Armor.” That book was a staple on my bedside night table and I wrote many a poem inspired by Jewel.) And these “ahhh!”s erase any doubts as to our soulmate status.

      Craziness.

  9. Excellent. Even with no revisions, editing, etc., you write so well. I’m guilty of laboring over a post for hours, even knowing that most people won’t spend more than about 30 seconds looking at it. I should jump in and join 5 minute Friday!

    Debbie

    1. I’m glad I’m not the only who has issues with “over-preparing” posts. It’s not necessarily a bad thing to put a lot of time and effort into something you care about, but it certainly is hard to maintain that pace if you want to see your family and have a life away from the computer. So, it’s something I’m working on. Slowly, but surely. Yes, you know I’d die with joy if you jumped into a FMF one of these weeks, Debbie. Let me know if you do!

  10. Loved this. Robert Frost was such a genius and you have a beautiful way of bringing that to life here. I am forever and always a Keats fanatic since visiting his home in Rome and having his poems read aloud on the Spanish Steps. His life story makes my heart beat a little faster and a little sadder because it was so tragic. A poem that has been life altering for me? Let me hate with you.

    WHEN I have fears that I may cease to be
    Before my pen has glean’d my teeming brain,
    Before high piled books, in charact’ry,
    Hold like rich garners the full-ripen’d grain;
    When I behold, upon the night’s starr’d face,
    Huge cloudy symbols of a high romance,
    And think that I may never live to trace
    Their shadows, with the magic hand of chance;
    And when I feel, fair creature of an hour!
    That I shall never look upon thee more,
    Never have relish in the faery power
    Of unreflecting love! – then on the shore
    Of the wide world I stand alone, and think
    Till Love and Fame to nothingness do sink.

    Thanks for sharing your wonderfully written 5-minute entry, Lauren!!

    1. Does it get more romantic than hearing Keats read aloud on the Spanish Steps? Ummm…I think not. How cool that you got to experience that! And I may have already told you this, but Romantic Literature class is where Mark and I met, so the romantic poets (Keats, Shelley, Blake) are near and dear to my heart.

      Thank you for including Keats’ text here, too. I literally have goosebumps on my arms after reading it. The words are familiar to me, so I must have studied it in college all those years ago. Thanks for jostling my memory with it!

      1. So two things: in my original reply I said “let me hate with you.” So weird, but that’s what I get with auto correct. It should have said “let me share with you”, but it seems you understood that. Second thing: does it get more romantic than meeting the love of your life in a Romantic Literature class? Woe!

        1. Ha ha. My eyes glazed right over it! So, auto-correct, the joke is on you! And I know, the Romantic Literature class thing almost sounds like something out of a fairy tale. However, the irony of it all is that the romantic poets weren’t always romantic…in fact, sometimes, they were downright depressing! Ha ha. It’s amazing we ever fell in love at all!

  11. That stanza by Robert Frost is one of my favorite of all time.

    And, after studying iambic pentameter repeatedly throughout my schooling, I FINALLY get it. I’ve never heard it described as a heartbeat, and I wish I had before! “Beating out poetry with our hearts.” Lovely, just lovely.

    1. Happy to know you had an “ah ha” moment with the heartbeat concept, Megan. Thanks for taking the time to check out my post and offer up such a lovely comment. The FMF community is marvelous indeed!

  12. Hi Lauren! Wow, did you teach me a lot in your post. It makes perfect sense that words to a heartbeat would really burrow deep, but I never heard of that before today. I bet your students LOVE your class 🙂 I found myself tapping out the beat to the Frost poem. It was lovely!

    Wonderful post, and in only five minutes! You are a very good writer. (Probably not news to you!)

    Peace in Christ,
    Ceil

    1. It makes me smile to imagine you tapping out the rhythm to Frost’s poem, Ceil! So happy that you joined in. And thank you for your generous words of praise. I’ve always enjoyed writing and blogging has been a wonderful way to get back into it after a several year hiatus. Peace to you, too!

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