Welcome to the Goretti Publications Podcast; this is Donald
Goodman.  This is Season 1, Episode 2.

For part one of the show, let's briefly discuss the need for
*structure* in poetry.  We mentioned last time that, to be
poetry, the lines *must* have structure, and we will
elaborate on that a little today.  For the difference
between poetry and prose is, precisely, that structure;
prose is simply text, while poetry is text structured in a
particular, formal way.

Obviously, prose is also structured, but not the way that
poetry is.  Prose involves free-flowing text without
linguistic-based structures like meter, rhyme, alliteration,
or similar forms.  Some prose is quite "poetic", in the
sense that it utilizes some of these elements; but it need
not, and usually does not, do so.  Furthermore, there is no
necessary relation between the structure of elements of
prose; each element, whether it be a phrase, a sentence, or
something else, is a creature unto itself.

Poetry, however, is *structured* into *lines*, with a
structure that is precisely linguistically based.  There are
many different ways to structure those lines; in English, we
typically use meter, rhyme, or both, but historically we
have used alliteration, and some poets have made very
powerful use of only stressed meter (the "sprung meter" of
Gerard Manley Hopkins, for example).  In other languages,
the structure may be very different.  But it is precisely
this linguistic structure that makes poetry different from
prose:  a consistent, linguistic structure that divides the
text into clearly defined lines.

Note that these "lines" are not necessarily physical, though
these days we typically print them as such; they are an
internal form, even if the lines are printed end-to-end with
no regard for typographical niceties.  The lines are
determined by the *structure*, not the visual appearance of
the printing.

Which leads us to so-called "free verse", or _vers libre_.
This type of poetry defines itself specifically by rejecting
all forms of linguistic structure.  Its practitioners will
deny, of course, that it does this; T. S. Eliot, for
example, one of its more well-known practitioners, once
stated that "no verse is free for the man who wants to do a
good job."  He also stated that "the division between
Conservative Verse and _vers libre_ does not exist, for
there is only good verse, bad verse, and chaos."  And it is
refreshing that he, along with others, acknowledge that
poetry is not poetry without at least *some* structure.

However, like most free verse poets, Eliot fails to give
us any real replacement for the structure of traditional
poetry.  Typically, they suggest things like "the cadence of
natural speech", which makes one wonder how poetry and prose
differ at all.  And that is the rub, of course:  a free
verse poem read aloud is indistinguishable from a piece of
prose read aloud, unless the reader is determined to read it
in a very artificial way.  This is true because even though
individual lines might have some structure; even though the
poet may intend to mimic the "rhythm" or "cadence" of normal
speech; he's really just writing prose, and inserting
unusual line breaks.

Poetry is text organized into lines, which have a consistent
and clearly defined linguistic structure.  Other text is
merely prose.

For part two, our poem for today is titled, "Winter's Joy."

%POEM%

The meter here is *anapestic heptameter*, a mouthful that
deserves a little explanation  The second word, the
"heptameter", is clear enough from our first episode:  each
line consists of seven feet.  An "anapest", or an "anapestic
foot", is a three-syllable foot made up of two unstressed
syllables followed by a stressed one.  So, for example:

	duh DAH duh DAH duh DAH duh DAH

These are iambs:  one unstressed syllable followed by one
stressed one.

	duh duh DAH duh duh DAH duh duh DAH

These are anapests:  *two* unstressed syllables followed by
one stressed one.

Anapestic heptameter, as a meter, is very "bouncy" and
familiar; it yields longer lines that sound almost like
prose speech, yet are still clearly structured and have
clear beginning and ending points.  It lends a very lively
feel to the poem, even when it is discussing difficult, and
sometimes depressing, themes, as this one does.

There is also a rhyme scheme here:  each stanza is made
up of two couplets, which rhyme at the end.  A "couplet"
is a two-line unit; sometimes these rhyme at the end,
sometimes they don't.  A standalone couplet of rhyming
iambic pentameter is a special case, often referred to as a
"heroic couplet"; Chaucer, Dryden, and Pope are poets who
famously made excellent use of them.

The poem's meaning can be easily discerned.  It begins by
discussing winter, and asking how a season which is
literally defined by death can possibly be considered
healthy.  It notes the blanket of snow ("Over all there is
snow") and how lovely it can be ("what a beautiful sight, as
the sun's golden light starts to sparkle and shine off the
snow"), but notes that this beauty conceals nothing but
death and danger, referring to "branches so bare" which
"bend and buckle and sway to and fro".  The third and fourth
stanzas present similar considerations about different
aspects of the season.

The reference to the sword of Damocles is well-known enough
that it requires no explanation.

The fifth asks how we should consider this, that a season
that brings us such joy will also bring us suffering and
difficulty.

The sixth wraps up the point:  yes, there is joy that comes
from suffering from those who know what suffering really
means.  We refer to "the men with the mark" (the mark of
Baptism), who despite the cold will persevere thanks to that
mark.  The mark of our Baptism will solidify us through all
suffering, and warm us through all cold.

Thank you for listening; until next time, this has been the
Goretti Publications Podcast.