It seems on any given day, at almost any hour, a bateau may appear in the waterway behind us, with one to four occupants either holding the fisherman's end of a rod and reel or casting a net. Fish, however, seemed to avoid the fish's end of the rod and reel as I never saw anyone reeling one in or anything else that successful fishermen do with fish they have caught. The cast nets were being used to capture bait, so I think what they hauled in using the nets does not count as success in fishing. With that said, I didn't consider asking any of these fisher-persons for advice on fishing--they weren't catching anything.
So, I asked myself, how have I learned most things? I started by picking up a book and reading about it. Somehow, that has always seemed to get me started in the right direction (or scared me off completely--see my short-lived interest in skydiving). So, in looking for the right book, it came to me--there must be a Fishing For Dummies book somewhere. After looking one up on Amazon, I decided I probably didn't want to wait several days to get my hands on it, so I logged on and found that my local B&N store had a copy. I clicked on the "pick me up" button, and now I have my copy.
But, instead of reading it, I decided I needed to pursue my alternate topic--the use of rhythm and meter in poetry. I learned a few things along the way. But I just can't hold it back anymore. Do you know what I discovered? In poetry, rhythm is all in the feet! I mean, is it like tap-dancing? It turns out that the patterns of stressed and unstressed syllables are contained in units called "feet." There are five kinds of feet--iambic (x-unstressed, /-stressed), anapestic (/xx), trochaic (/x), dactylic (/xx) and spondaic (//).
Meter, on the other hand, refers to the number of feet in each line. This can range from one to eight (monometer, dimeter, trimeter....octameter). So, with a little For Dummies.com magic, I found the following illustration of iambic pentameter. The example they offered was the famous five iambic feet string below:
Christopher Marlowe's line from Dr. Faustus:
Duh-DUH-duh-DUH-duh
Which reminds me of a conversation I overheard a few days ago--
Dad: Son, don't touch that cat!
Son: D-a-a-a-a-d, why not?
Dad: 'Cause we're dog people, not cat people.
Me, too.
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