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Blank Verse and Free Verse
Transcript of Blank Verse and Free Verse
BLANK VERSE is poetry that has a CONSISTENT METER, but DOES NOT RHYME.
FREE VERSE is poetry that has NO CONSISTENT METER and DOES NOT RHYME.
What is it?
Examine the following poems to see if the are free verse or blank verse.
This one is tricky
Lightning strikes as thunder roars
Sending war across the skies.
Blackness blankets light of night
Except when fire flashes bright,
Blinding eyes to truth, to right.
Tears of agony rain from irate clouds,
Which smother joy, bringing moans
Of pain, despair, distress,
Leaving open bleeding sores
That never can be healed
Until the battle ends
With God’s peace revealed.
1. Write a four to eight line poem in blank verse.
2. Write a four to eight line poem in free verse.
( BLANK VERSE = METER + NO RHYME )
The Following is an example of blank verse.This poem has NO RHYME SCHEME, but has a CONSISTENT METER.
Something there is that doesn’t love a wall.
That sends the frozen-ground-swell under it,
And spills the upper boulders in the sun;
And makes gaps even two can pass abreast.
The work of hunters is another thing:
I have come after them and made repair
Where they have left not one stone on a stone,
But they would have the rabbit out of hiding,
To please the yelping dogs. The gaps I mean,
No one has seen them made or heard them made,
But at spring mending-time we find them there.
Mending Wall by Robert Frost
( FREE VERSE = NO METER + NO RHYME )
The following poem is an example of free verse.
This poem has NO RHYME SCHEME and NO CONSISTENT METER
Beat! beat! drums!–blow! bugles! blow! Through the windows–through doors– burst like a ruthless force, Into the solemn church, and scatter the congregation, Into the school where the scholar is studying; Leave not the bridegroom quiet–no happiness must he have now with his bride, Nor the peaceful farmer any peace, ploughing his field or gathering his grain, So fierce you whirr and pound you drums–so shrill you bugles blow.
Beat! Beat! Drums! by Walt Whitman
From Milton’s "Samson Agonistes"
But patience is more oft the exercise
Of Saints, the trial of their fortitude,
Making them each his own Deliver,
And Victor over all
That tyranny or fortune can inflict.
From Walt Whitman’s "Leaves of Grass"
All truths wait in all things,
They neither hasten their own delivery nor resist it,
They do not need the obstetric forceps of the surgeon.
from William Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet
...bid me leap, rather than marry Paris,
From off the battlements of yonder tower;
Or walk in thievish ways; or bid me lurk
Where serpents are; chain me with roaring bears;
Or shut me nightly in a charnel-house,
O’er covered quite with dead men’s rattling bones,
With reeky shanks and yellow chapless skulls;
Or bid me go into a new-made grave,
And hide me with a dead man and his shroud;
The Storm by Vivian Gilbert Zabel