i-scan-your-poems

[i-scan-your-poems]

"HIGH-femmes-down/BAD-for-a GREEN-lit-tle/FREAK"

It's a waltz, ending on a stressed syllable.

so true, this works. or in poetry terminology if you scan it this way, it’s dactylic tetrameter catalectic

[i-scan-your-poems]

scansion:

– – – – ◡ ◡ – ◡ ◡ – high femmes down bad for a green little freak

metrical form: none, I just really like the rhythm of this phrase

I can't be the first to make this connection

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Full scansion:

◡ ◡ – ◡ ◡ – An alluvial fan? ◡ ◡ ◡ – ◡ ◡ – From an ephemeral stream? – ◡ ◡ ◡ – ◡ ◡ – That's my geological jam. – ◡ – Flash flood slam, ◡ – ◡ ◡ – A sediment dream. ◡ ◡ – ◡ ◡ – Then the water redeems, ◡ ◡ – ◡ ◡ – Leaving gravel and sand ◡ ◡ – ◡ – – Like a layered ice cream. – ◡ ◡ – ◡ Out in the desert, ◡ ◡ ◡ – ◡ – Where the arroyos scream, ◡ – ◡ ◡ – Geology's art, ◡ – ◡ ◡ – I’m mapping the theme. ◡ ◡ – ◡ – From a mountain flank, ◡ ◡ – ◡ – Down a steep ravine, ◡ ◡ – ◡ – It spreads out wide, ◡ – ◡ ◡ – You know what I mean. – ◡ ◡ – Sorting by size, ◡ ◡ – ◡ ◡ – Like a sieve in a dream, ◡ ◡ – ◡ ◡ – With the boulders up front ◡ ◡ – ◡ – And the silts downstream. – ◡ – Dry most days, ◡ ◡ – ◡ ◡ – Then a seasonal stream ◡ ◡ – ◡ – Makes a fan-shaped mark ◡ ◡ – ◡ – Like a geo-scheme.

Metrical form: dimeter lines ending on stressed syllables. Almost all lines fit the pattern (◡ ◡ ◡) – ◡ ◡ –

Rhyme scheme: ABAABBABCBDBEBFBFBGBHBIB

they just came out with a new type of guy that freestyles about geological phenomena on reddit

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I was imagining it as having an anapest substituted in the second foot, so “I o/pen and close / this app / like it’s / a fridge”. I’ll grant that it’s not a strictly iambic line! But substituting an anapest for an iamb can happen in looser versions of iambic pentameter, plus in some periods of English (e.g. in Shakespeare) “open” can be contracted to “op’n” anyway, so I feel that in the context of English literary tradition this sentence can scan as pentameter.

I open and close this app like it's a fridge

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Metrical form: iambic pentameter

I open and close this app like it's a fridge

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You make too many presumptions, good sir. 'Tis a matter of the flesh, nothing more. Your perjury fails to persuade me from Sir Malik's exhortation. Far be it from either of you to claim privy to maiden minds. I quite prefer an arrangement like Cait's. Madam, you lie or jest or both. No. All damsels desire eternal affection. Do you deny it? I daresay you hold the foolhardy notion that he may christen you wife one day. Just like a man to simplify complexities of the heart into petty misunderstanding! Ah, a complexity of the heart yet a falsehood of the tongue. You proclaimed it a matter of the flesh, not the heart. It is your kind who usher in this mess: your indifference, your dishonesty. Your kind has the habit of choosing monsters over worthy masters. You believe yourself to be some noble vision of a man, but you're all of one mind. I would love you as the farmer does his harvest, as a sweet babe suckles at its mother's teat!

This dialogue is in prose, not verse. This is fitting because its content feels reminiscent of Shakespeare plays like Much Ado About Nothing and Twelfth Night, which are written mostly in prose, as are many conversations between commoners in Shakespeare.

In evoking Shakespeare, though, the dialogue does use a few lines of iambic pentameter: "It is your kind who usher in this mess."

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not exactly a poem but I've never been able to figure out the scansion of the line "hit me baby one more time" from the song ...baby one more time. (partly cause i keep noticing the same rhythm in text like it's haunting me)

i interpret it as ◡ –/◡ –/◡ –/◡ but that leaves a hanging syllable and i tend to flip on whether the last one's stressed or not. figured I'd ask given scansion's your whole thing

It’s trochaic, – u / – u / – u / –

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Scansion:

◡ – / ◡ – / ◡ – I Need / To Shoot / My Phone

Metrical form: iambic trimeter

every morning I wake up and think of these words from philosopher cher

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Meeting with the Mollusk

On Monday I went a-walking down a winding, windy trail

To meet a man that claimed t'have been turned into a snail

Walking idly, wondered I “who went and changed that man?”

And shocked was I to find this snail was actually a fan

He'd bought my book, he'd bought some prints, he even had a painting

And when we got to shaking hands he quickly took to fainting

So starstruck was the man-turned-snail that upon my arrival

He requested that I sign his book and begged for a recital

I felt quite bland at reading to him in my standard cadence

And whilst deciding what to read he showed excellent patience

I decided on a couple that had often done quite well

And as I read it became clear he was under my spell

My plot it seems Is evident though perchance I'll spell it out

Though please disregard the deviance with which I set about

You see the man-turned-snail is one that I had planned to scout

Some folks like chicken

Some folks like trout

Some folks like salmon roe

But my guilty pleasure is and always will be escargot 

(pause)

I set upon the sleeping snail with much enthusiasm

I went to work upon his figure wreaking quite the clasm

I tore and mangled with delight while readying my feast

When I heard stomping footfalls approaching from the east

(pause)

I peeked behind the curtains and saw to my surprise

A wizard stepping nimbly from the brambles ‘fore my eyes

It seemed as though that fiend had set out after my prize

I thought it pertinent of me this threat I should apprize 

(pause)

He brushed off the sticks and leaves and bugs which clung to his blue robes

As I sought to lock the doors lest the old wizard come and probe

Before I could secure the house a knock loudly sounded twice

I opened the door and the wizard caught me in his vice

(pause)

“What have you done with the snail?” his booming voice demanded.

I let the door fall open ‘cause I knew I's caught red handed

(pause)

He took in the carnage of the scene that lay before him

And looked for a moment at the one who'd did these acts so grim

“I'd surely like to take this demon on as my apprentice-

But I fear that her brutality may very well be endless-

Better still I'll kill her and take this feast as my own-

Perhaps I'll even take the snails house as my brand new home”

Whilst the wizard oh so wisely considered all his options

I sneaked behind him 

Grabbed an axe

And then I swiftly offed him

No one interrupts my dinner- this you too should learn

unless the wizards prize is one you too would like to earn

I set about my feasting, chewing, slowly savoring

And realized with a start that the snail was lacking flavouring

Disgruntled, disappointed, and well and truly vexed

It seemed in his last moment the wizard cast a hex

One more bite of escargot, I wash it down with sweet red wine

Dashing my hopes that the problem with the snail had been the brine

It started sinking in the wizard had taken my taste

I set about searching him with urgency and haste

No antidote was in his robes no spellbook on his person

With this discovery my anxiety began to worsen

There must be a solution to a taken sense of taste

perhaps a potion, an elixir, or perhaps a paste

I set back down that winding road, sense of purpose born anew

And realized with a start the thing it is that I must do

Simply find another wizard wandering ‘mongst the people

One whose power of spellcasting would prove to be more feeble

This wizard(should I find him) I'll ensnare him in my verse

And compel him at once to dispel me of this curse

If wizards are in short supply and in searching I'm unlucky

I'll be forced to spend my days finding gourmet yucky

Metrical form: heptameter with irregular feet

Rhyme scheme: AA BB CC DD EE FF GGG HH II JJ KKKK LL MM NN OO PP QQ RR SS TT UU VV WW XX YY ZZ and so on (mostly an AABB structure)

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◡ – / ◡ – / ◡ – / ◡ – / ◡ – / ◡ – / ◡ – The day / you plant / the seed / is not / the day / you eat / the fruit

Metrical form: iambic heptameter

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hello do you know about villanelles? I like them but can not find as many examples as I'd like of good ones online.

I know that they exist but I don't really know anything about them!

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Scansion:

' ◡ ' ◡ | ◡ ' ◡ || ◡ ' ◡ | ◡ ' ◡ In the crooks of | your body, || I find my | religion.

Metrical form: This is a line of Saturnian verse!

Other notes: It's at least accentually a correct Saturnian, following in particular Mercado 2012. Cf. e.g. CIL 1.2 line 5, which has the same pattern. ánnos nátus | (vigínti) || is lóceis | mandátus

In the crooks of your body, I find my religion.

-Marcus Tullius Cicero, Epistulae ad Atticum

[i-scan-your-poems]

Scansion:

◡ – ◡ / ◡ – ◡ / ◡ – ◡ / – ◡ ◡ / – ◡ – ◡ when i was / a young boy / my father / had what he / called the bean jar ◡ ◡ ◡ – ◡ ◡ – ◡ – – it was a jar full of brown and black beans

The bean jar

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Scansion:

– ◡ / – ◡ / – ◡ / – ◡ boar of / strenght and / boar of / power – ◡ / – ◡ / – ◡ / – ◡ heavy / training / every / hour – ◡ / – ◡ / – ◡ / – huge and / fat my / awesome / pig ◡ – ◡ – ◡ – ◡ – i make it large i make it big

Metrical form: Tetrameter. Lines 1-2 are trochaic tetrameter (perhaps catalectic depending on how many syllables are in power and hour), line 3 is trochaic tetrameter catalectic, and line 4 is iambic tetrameter. Rhyme scheme: Rhyming couplets

boar of strenght and boar of power

heavy training every hour

huge and fat my awesome pig

i make it large i make it big

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Scansion:

– ◡ ◡ / – ◡ ◡ / – ◡ ◡ / – ◡ #is there a / place between / perfect and / failure?

Metrical form: dactylic tetrameter catalectic

Devastating to have more evidence that done IS better than perfect

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This post is wonderful classic tumblr and relevant to my interests but how would I possibly scan it? What could I even do here?

[i-scan-your-poems]

Scansion:

– ◡ ◡ – ◡ ashes to ashes, – ◡ – dust to dust, – ◡ ◡ – ◡ reeses to pieces ◡ – ◡ – And sluts to sluts.

Metrical form: Dimeter with varying feet. Odd-numbered lines are adonic (or dactylic dimeter catalectic with feminine endings), even-numbered lines are iambic or trochaic with masculine endings.

Rhyme scheme: ABCB

ashes to ashes, dust to dust, reeses to pieces