Rhyme is just one scheme of phonological parallelism out of many. Maybe I should expand upon this for clarity. Phonological parallelism, in this sense, is when similar word sounds occur within or between lines of poetry. Rhyme is a form of this parallelism. For instance, take any rhyming lines of poetry:

The rhyme between “breeze” and “trees” here is a phonological parallelism between these two lines. Such parallelisms can occur within a line or between multiple lines, or even between stanzas or entire texts. What most people are familiar with, however, is the parallelism of rhyme between specific lines within a given stanza. In the example above, we refer to this parallelism as end-line rhyme, because the phonological parallelism is a rhyme which occurs between line endings.

Rhyme is just one type of parallelism available from an array of options. In this article, I explore with you some of the alternatives to rhyme available to you as a poet. The focus is initially on monosyllabic (single syllable) phonological parallelisms. Toward the end we’ll look at some disyllabic (two syllable) phonological parallelisms as well. What I hope you will do is take this information and allow it to influence your creative process when writing poetry. You should be able to devise and make use of, if you like, polysyllabic (three or more syllables) phonological parallelisms on your own once you have ingested the meat of this article by combing the various schemes discussed below.

Seven basic monosyllabic schemes

Including rhyme, there are seven basic monosyllabic phonological parallelisms at your immediate disposal. These are alliteration, assonance, consonance, reverse rhyme, frame rhyme, rhyme, and rich rhyme. Some of these terms will instantly be familiar to you, “alliteration” for instance. Let’s take one of the two lines quoted from Pope’s poem above and modify it slightly using end-line alliteration instead end-line rhyme.

As you can see, the effect of end-line alliteration is different from the effect of end-line rhyme, yet it still has a potency not unlike the potency of rhyme. And, you have an entirely new pool of words to draw from just in using end-line alliteration. Imagine the pool of words that becomes available when all seven of these schemes are considered.

In The Princeton Encyclopedia of Poetry and Poetics, the article on “Rhyme” sets forth a schema by which the seven phonological schemes introduced above may be recognized and understood. On the accented syllable of a given word, there will often be an opening consonant sound, a medial vowel sound, and a closing consonant sound. This is schematized as C V C, where the first C is the opening consonant sound, V is the medial vowel sound, and the last C is the closing consonant sound. The individual sounds within a word represented by this C V C schema are called phonemes or phonemic clusters, which is how I often refer to them below.

The following table allows us to identify these schemes using the C V C schema. The C V C part or parts that relate to a given scheme will be underlined and bolded, followed by the name of that scheme and three or more illustrative words:

All too often, information like this will be presented without exemplifying it further. I think it can be nice to see schemes such as these actually exemplified as they could be used in lines of poetry because this can help the information to sink in.

Exemplifying the seven basic schemes

The following examples illustrate these schemes one at a time. Each scheme is demonstrated within and between the example lines. So, phonological parallelisms occur within and between lines, at the very least. Understand that my examples are created to suit the purpose, invented off the top of my head and modified to make the best use of a given scheme. I have constructed the examples so that they can be followed and understood syntactically. Though they are intended specifically to illustrate the use of the schemes, I have attempted to make them as interesting and engaging as I can in a way that will hopefully demonstrate each scheme’s ability to convey meaning, invoke response, and affect the reader.

In the examples below the phoneme or phonemic cluster that relates to a given scheme is italicized and underlined.

Alliteration: C V C

Here there are three sets of alliteration, pared/poisoned in the first line, expressing/price in the second line, and sheers/shame between the final syllables.

Note that, despite the different syllabic lengths of some of the words, the alliteration occurs between accented syllables. Alliteration can also occur between accented and unaccented syllables or between unaccented syllables, but this normally will greatly diminish the effect.

Such is the case for all of these schemes. They are used primarily between accented syllables. Using them with unaccented syllables can create interesting effects, but it is a good idea to first practice and play around with each of these schemes strictly between accented syllables in order to gain proficiency with their use and some understanding of their effects.

Assonance: C V C

Here there are five sets of assonance, stars/darkness in the first line, sunrise/wonder in the second line, silent/bright between the first syllables, steady/sends between the fifth syllables, and morn/restored between the final syllables.

Note that I underlined the r phoneme between stars/darkness and morn/restored as part of the assonance. Although grammatically r is considered a consonant, phonologically it acts just like a vowel. Compare dark/stars to dark/stab or dark/snob. The latter two sets just don’t assonate. The effect of the assonance—the similarity of vowel sound—is lost between the words when the r phoneme is omitted. When you have a diphthong (‘diff thong), which is a combination of two or more vowel sounds, assonance is achieved by repeating the entire diphthong, as in corn/bored. If only part of the diphthong is repeated, as in corn/lode, this is what would be called partial assonance. The first six of the seven basic C V C schemes have a partial state, where only part of a given phonemic cluster is repeated. I discuss partial schemes in detail later.

On its own, assonance is the trickiest scheme to work with on account of a greater variance in pronunciation between English dialects. So with this example, I’m aware that some of the pairs may not assonate for all readers. For instance, I’ve heard the first vowel in wonder pronounced the same as the first vowel in sunrise all my life, but I’ve also heard it pronounced the same as the vowel in the word on.

Consonance: C V C

Here there are four sets of consonance, swim/moments in the first line, crash/threshold in the second line, countless/wanton between the eighth syllables, and years/cares between the final syllables.

Note that here I underline the r phoneme between years/cares as part of the consonance. The r phoneme is capable of fulfilling the role of vowel and/or consonant, depending on how and where it is used. Its use as a consonant is especially pronounced when it modifies a consonant or consonant cluster. For instance, compare the s phoneme between cares/face. The s phoneme is softened in cares by the r phoneme and more pronounced in face. Many vowel sounds are capable of affecting the way consonants sound; likewise, many consonants are just as capable of affecting the way vowels sound. It is up to you as the poet to decide where phonological parallels sound agreeable and where they don’t—when they suit your purposes and when they don’t. I could say that the words cares/face are consonant, but they probably are more accurately partially consonant.

As examples continue below, think about the r phoneme and how it affects the sound and shape of adjacent phonemes.

Reverse Rhyme: C V C

Here there are four sets of reverse rhyme, bring/brink in the first line, faith/faded in the second line, storms/restore between the second syllables, and fear/feel between the final syllables.

Frame Rhyme: C V C

Here there are four sets of frame rhyme, sturdy/steed in the first line, fearsome/faces in the second line, soldiers/seldom between the sixth syllables, and field/defiled between the final syllables.

Rhyme: C V C

Here there are four sets of rhyme, spurned/burned in the first line, rise/despise in the second line, rhyme/time between the second syllables, and simple/whimper between the final syllables.

I have rhymed two words here that many would not consider rhymes, simple and whimper. These words do in fact rhyme. I touched on this above, but since not everyone is aware of just what it takes to make a rhyme, I’ll clarify further. The phonological parallelisms of assonance and consonance need only exist between two single syllables, usually accented, for rhyme to occur. If the following syllable does not share this concordance, this does not mean the words lack rhyme, it just means that the rhyme is monosyllabic rather than disyllabic. For instance, pairs like hunting/punter, fainter/plaintive, and silencer/piloting are all monosyllabic rhymes. If the phonological parallelisms carry over into the next syllable, for instance canter/banter and filing/styling, then you have disyllabic rhyme. If the parallelism carries over into three or more syllables, then the rhyme becomes polysyllabic.

Rich Rhyme: C V C

Here there are three sets of rich rhyme, avail/prevail in the first line, gained/regained in the second line, and affair/fare between the final syllables.

As you can see, rich rhyme can occur between parts of words, as with affair and fare. It is not necessarily restricted to correlations between whole words, which is of course the same thing as paronomasia.

Of course, these schemes can be mixed and matched at will:

Here we have two sets of alliteration with fight/fear in the first line and keep/cool in the second line, two sets of rhyme with hold/gold in the first line and never/ever (disyllabic) in the second line, and one frame rhyme with grip/gripe between the final syllables.

Partial schemes

As I hinted at above, these schemes can often be effective even when the phonological parallelisms lack precision. Whenever the phonemes of a scheme are only partially concordant, this can be considered a partial scheme. For instance, as I pointed out before, the words corn and lode represent a partial assonance through the o phoneme. Full assonance here would be achieved by including the r phoneme in the second word to make it corn and lord.

For each scheme, the combinations of partial phonological parallelism are nearly endless, but I think it is worth demonstrating just a couple of combinations from each of the schemes, except rich rhyme. If an occurrence of rich rhyme is partial, then you actually have one of the other six schemes by default. In each of the examples, the phonemic clusters that relate to a given scheme within the C V C schema are underlined while specific phonemes or phonemic clusters that actually correlate between the exemplified words are bolded.

Partial alliteration:

Here there are four sets of partial alliteration: stars/silent in the first line with the s phoneme; shining/shrines also in the first line with the sh phoneme; dreadful/doubts in the second line with the d phoneme; fade/floating and floating/clouds also in the second line with the f and l phonemes, respectively; and light/clouds between the final syllables with the l phoneme again. So, the l phoneme here creates partial alliteration between three words in all, light/floating/clouds.

As you can see, the effect can be quite striking despite the lack of exact alliterative precision.

Partial assonance:

I didn’t use special formatting in this example to highlight the partial assonance because it is not possible to show all of the sounds involved by identifying letters individually. There are three sets of partial assonance used intentionally: noise/force (no eez)/(fo ers) between the second syllables with the o phoneme; keen/conjoined (keen)/(con jo eend) between the fifth syllables with the ee phoneme; and plight/all (plah eet)/(ahl) between the final syllables with the ah phoneme.

There are several more examples of partial assonance there as well, but I passed on mentioning them since they were not used intentionally. Partial assonance is extremely prevalent in natural speech because there are only so many vowel sounds—hence vowel combinations—available. It must also be considered that regional accents will affect vowels and diphthongs much more than they do consonants, making it very difficult implement a scheme of partial assonance that will hold between regions and dialects.

As is often the way with such things, now that you have seen partial assonance further demonstrated and described, it is possible that you’ll suddenly become aware of partial assonance everywhere.

Partial consonance:

Here there are five sets of partial consonance: monsters/stand and ghostly/hosts in the first line with the n phoneme and the st phonemic cluster, respectively; hard/cold and lifelike/craft in the second line with the d and f phonemes, respectively; and hosts/craft between the final syllables with the t phoneme.

You may have noticed that the words hosts and craft were each used more than once—First to partially consonate with one another, and then to partially consonate with another word, ghostly and lifelike, respectfully. I did something similar in the example for partial alliteration above. It is only possible to partially alliterate or consonate a word more than once in this manner when it contains a consonant cluster, such as the sts in hosts and the ft in craft. The effect would not be at all the same if the entire consonant cluster were alliterated or consonated as many times since its overuse would overwhelm the lines. Imagine the impact of using the ft from craft four times between the two lines? The effect would create comedy rather than texture.

Partial reverse rhyme:

Here there are three sets partial reverse rhyme: striking/tightened in the first line with the t and i phonemes; phrases/fade in the second line with the f and a phonemes; and page/space between the final syllables with the p and a phonemes.

Partial frame rhyme:

Here there are three sets of partial frame rhyme: trust/treat between the fourth syllables with the tr phonemic cluster and the t phoneme; guide/gold between the eighth syllables with the g and d phonemes; and life/fluff between the final syllables with the l and f phonemes.

Partial rhyme:

Here there are four sets of partial rhyme: soul/cold in the first line with the o and l phonemes; thoughts/cotton in the second line with the ä and t phonemes; damp/trapped between the fourth syllables with the a and p phonemes; and mist/bliss between the final syllables with the i and s phonemes.

Note that if you had partial assonance as opposed to partial consonance or alliteration with rhyme or reverse rhyme, this changes the scheme entirely. Partial alliteration allows for partial reverse rhyme and partial consonance allows for partial rhyme, but partial assonance with either leaves you with alliteration or consonance only. For instance, if you were to take the partial rhyme between soul and cold and change cold to coil, making only the vowels partially assonant, you end up with pure consonance because the rhyme is lost entirely. If you instead change cold to coiled, you then end up with partial consonance instead of partial rhyme. This is because rhyme, pure or partial, must have pure assonance. The same holds true for reverse rhyme.

This is also part of the reason why rich rhyme can’t be partial. Because if you change anything, like the rich rhyme vane/vain to vane/veins or to vane/van, this ends up being pure reverse rhyme or pure frame rhyme, respectively. Rich rhyme is always in full concordance with the C V C schema. This doesn’t mean you can’t use vane with veins in a poem—The effect may turn out very desirable; it only means this particular phonological parallelism can’t be called partial rich rhyme. To properly describe the scheme, you would have to call it reverse rhyme with partial consonance. Similar would be true for any other deviations of this sort from rich rhyme.

Disyllabic examples

All of these schemes can be extended beyond a single syllable, as I’ve alluded to above. The C V C schema can be made disyllabic by adding a lowercase v c to represent the unaccented second syllable when it doesn’t begin with its own consonant(s) and a lowercase c v c to represent the unaccented second syllable when it does begin with its own consonant(s). Compare paddock (C V C v c) to padlock (C V C c v c).

This table shows some disyllabic renditions of the seven basic schemes:

Disyllabic alliteration requires the use of that first small c (the unaccented portion) in the C V C c v c schema, so no example was provided for the C V C v c schema. Such an example would really amount to monosyllabic frame rhyme anyway, which is exemplified above both in the C V C table and in an illustrative couplet.

The C V C schema is itself just a guideline to help mentally process and understand the phonemic correlations between words. Many words don’t fall strictly under the C V C schema or its disyllabic extensions listed above, yet the schema can still be used to talk about those words. For instance, at and bat still rhyme under C V C, since the first C, not being underlined, can be considered optional to the word in order to fulfill the parallelism. Same goes for any of the phonological schemes that have been covered or that you may devise for yourself using these elements.

What is especially useful about having the schema diagrammed in this manner is that you can now see how various schemes can be blended together for different effects. For instance, you can blend primary (on the accented syllable) alliteration with secondary (on the unaccented syllable) rhyme:

Or maybe you would like to blend primary consonance with secondary assonance:

The possibilities are endless.

Applying alternative schemes

Any of these schemes can be used in place of or in conjunction with an end-line rhyme scheme. For instance, say you come across the rhyme scheme abba; you can assign a to end-line consonance and b to end-line alliteration. Or, if you like, you can assign a to end-line rhyme and b to end-line disyllabic frame rhyme. Wherever you come across a rhyme scheme for a given form, you can enrich and broaden your exploration of that form by using the various schemes introduced in this article in place of or in conjunction with the established rhyme scheme.

As I said when I started this article, rhyme is just one scheme of phonological parallelism out of many. Just one. As you explore the alternative schemes presented here, the small subset of rhyming words is suddenly expanded to include many more word subsets derived from them.

In wrapping up this article, I would like for you to reflect for just a moment on one last thing. Did you see the term “slant rhyme” even once up to this point? No, you haven’t. There is a good reason for this. What is commonly called slant rhyme is in actuality either partial rhyme, consonance, or partial consonance. “Slant rhyme” and its brother, “near rhyme”, are not terms that actually mean anything.

This is the third of three articles treating on the subject of scansion and meter in poetry. Here I talk about three concepts that I feel are essential to understanding some of the more subtle aspects of English prosody. First is the concept of missing or extra syllables in a line of poetry and the terms involved in identifying meters in relation; second is concept of influence that other lines within a stanza or poem have on identifying variations in meter that include such missing or extra syllables; third is the concept of combining related feet within a line of poetry and correctly identifying their meters.

Overview

In 2001 I became interested in prosody, which is the study of language as it relates to metrical composition. Since then I have learned a few things about meter that I’ve since incorporated into my scansion, some of which has become second nature. Scansion is the act of scanning lines of poetry and dividing them into metrical feet.

Books and articles on prosody can make the study of meter very confusing because so many different approaches and angles are taken on the subject. In some cases these angles are relatively simple and easy to grasp. Most of the time they are intolerably complex and befuddling. Then there’s the odd treatise that presents approaches that are just plain incompatible with one another. The main reason for all this confusion is that English prosody and all its terminology are derived entirely from ancient Greek prosody, which–structurally speaking–has very little in common with Modern English. So treatises on the subject essentially end up going to all lengths to fit square pegs into round holes. This makes it a challenge to glean anything truly useful when studying English prosody, but it can be done.

I take a practical approach. I don’t try to treat English like ancient Greek. English is a language with both qualitative (the accent or pitch of syllables) and quantitative (the length of syllables) elements while ancient Greek apparently is purely a quantitative language. In fact, the qualitative elements of English are so prominent that it is very rare to see its quantitative aspects recognized at all. Instead, I look at English as it is and only use those Greek terms and concepts that have some direct correlation to English prosody, which for all intents and purposes has never really been studied and described in its own right.

Over time this approach has allowed me to isolate specific elements of scansion that are actually relevant to English and sensibly apply them as I read and write poetry. What I talk about below are missing or extra syllables in a line of poetry, those terms from Greek prosody that can usefully be applied in relation, how the context of a stanza can change how you scan a line with missing or extra syllables, and the combining of related feet within a line of poetry to simplify the identification of meters.

My hope is that this information will give you a way to talk about lines of poetry that seem to evade identification and hence meaningful discussion.

Catalexis and Acephalexis (,cat el ‘lek sis) & (a ‘sef el ,lek sis)

Missing syllables—specifically those unaccented syllables missing from the end (catalexis) or the beginning (acephalexis) of a line.

Metrically speaking, catalexis and acephalexis are mirror images of one another. Such a line of poetry taken by itself independent of the stanzaic structure from which it came more naturally scans as catalectic (,cat el ‘lek tick) since the first syllable is accented. However, the overall structure of a stanza can shift perspective from catalexis to acephalexis.

First we’ll explore these concepts in a direct way along with some clarifying examples, then we’ll discuss them further and demonstrate how the structure of a stanza can determine whether your line is one or the other.

Catalexis

Trochaic or dactylic lines that have no unaccented syllables at the end are said to be catalectic. This means you can have a line of poetry that is trochaic and/or dactylic even though it ends with an accented syllable.

Here’s an example:

This is a catalectic trochaic tetrameter. You’ll notice that the line starts with a trochee and is followed by a predictable pattern of two more trochees to be capped by a single accented syllable. This last foot is said to be tailless trochee because it is considered a trochee that has its final unaccented syllable omitted.

Catalectic trochaic lines have a nice feel to them to my mind. They are more difficult to use intentionally than iambic lines because of the way syntax works in English, but I think they can be worth the time.

The following example demonstrates a similar effect with a line of dactyls:

This is a catalectic dactylic tetrameter. Although the scheme is dactylic, the final foot is still considered a tailless trochee.

Acephalexis

Iambic or anapaestic lines that have no unaccented syllables at the beginning of the line are said to be acephalectic (a ‘sef el ,lek tick). This means you can have a line of poetry that is iambic and/or anapaestic even though it begins with an accented syllable.

I could actually use the exact same examples above to illustrate this, but doing so could increase confusion. So for now, let’s try:

This is an acephalectic iambic pentameter. Of course you’ll notice right away that the first iamb is missing its unaccented syllable, making it a headless iamb. To scan this line as acephalectic rather than catalectic requires a shift in perspective from seeing trochees to seeing iambs. We’ll come back to this. But first, let’s look at a similar example involving anapaests:

This is an acephalectic anapaestic pentameter, an unusual thing. Although the scheme is anapaestic, the first foot is still considered a headless iamb. As with the previous example, scanning this line as acephalectic rather than catalectic requires a shift in perspective from seeing dactyls to seeing anapaests.

Lines such as these taken on their own will almost certainly be considered catalectic. This is because that first accented syllable cues the mind for trochees and/or anapaests. In fact, catalexis is the term used by academics, even to this day, to describe a line of poetry that leads and ends with an accented syllable—even if that line occurs in a sonnet otherwise comprised entirely of iambic pentameters.

By comparison, acephalexis is not a well-known term. It’s not even listed in the OED. It’s taken from the Greek roots “a” (not/without), “cephal” (head), and “lexis” (word/words/language) to give us a way of talking about lines that look catalectic and yet occur within a purely iambic and/or anapaestic framework. In short, the term evolved out of a desire to describe English prosody rather than proscribe Greek prosody onto it.

Shifting Perspective

So how do we decide if our line is catalectic or acephalectic? The answer is context. Context is everything when it comes to applying more advanced concepts of scansion. First, let’s look at a quatrain that contains one catalectic line using the first example above:

Here three solid trochaic tetrameters are followed by a catalectic trochaic tetrameter. The pattern of trochees in the first three lines continues seamlessly though the fourth line to the last foot where the tailless trochee establishes the line as catalectic.

If it were the first, second or third line that was missing that last unaccented syllable, the preponderance of trochees throughout the stanza creates the same effect. In fact, assuming all other lines start and end with an accented syllable, it would only take a single purely trochaic line to establish the stanza as trochaic in nature, thus making the remaining three lines catalectic.

Now let’s look at another quatrain that includes the first acephalectic example above to see how the overall structure of a stanza can shift perspective from catalexis to acephalexis:

Here the first three lines are iambic pentameters and the last is the acephalectic iambic pentameter illustrated above that leads with a headless iamb. Because the stanza contains mostly iambic lines, a line that begins and ends with an accented syllable will be acephalectic rather than catalectic.

It is beyond the purview of this article to explore more complex stanzaic structures. Truth is, as structured stanzas become more complex, it begins to make sense to define lines based on whether or not they lead with an accented syllable.

For instance, a stanza can alternate between iambic and trochaic lines, and this would actually be a stanza that contains both iambic and trochaic lines. In such a stanza, whether you decide to call a line that begins and ends with an accented syllable catalectic or acephalectic would become mostly a matter of preference, though for my part I would choose based on the overall pattern of the stanza and poem in question—i.e. the line occurs in a position occupied mostly by iambic or trochaic lines.

I don’t feel it is necessary to provide further examples using dactyls and anapaests, as the same applies.

Hypercatalexis and Anacrusis (‘hi per ,cat el ‘lek sis) & (,an uh ‘croos is)

Extra syllables—specifically those one or two extra unaccented syllables that occur at the end (hypercatalexis) or the beginning (anacrusis) of a line.

Hypercatalexis and anacrusis are also mirror images of one another, requiring a shift in perspective to see a line as being either hypercatalectic (‘hi per ,cat el ‘lek tick) or anacrustic (,an uh ‘crust ick). Again, this shift in perspective is influenced by the overall structure of the stanza and poem as a whole.

First we’ll explore these concepts in a direct way along with some clarifying examples, then we’ll discuss them further and demonstrate how the structure of a stanza can determine whether your line is one or the other.

Hypercatalexis

Iambic or anapaestic lines that contain one or two unaccented syllable at the end, called hanging syllables, are said to be hypercatalectic. The use of this term and concept allows for a way to talk about lines of poetry which are iambic and/or anapaestic and seem to have this mysterious trochee or dactyl at the end. Those are not trochees or dactyls; those are hanging syllables, and they are counted as part of the final foot.

Here’s an example:

This is a hypercatalectic iambic pentameter. You’ll see there is one hanging syllable at the end that doesn’t seem to fit within the scheme of an iambic line. Technically that final foot is called an amphibrach, which in Greek prosody is a long (accented) syllable between two short (unaccented) syllables. But I’ve also heard this referred to as a short-tailed iamb, the short tail being the one hanging syllable. For my part I prefer the latter term because it helps keep focus on the line type, which is iambic. Identifying line types is the focus of the third part of this article below.

Now let’s expand the concept of hypercatalexis to a line of anapaests:

This is a hypercatalectic anapaestic tetrameter. Here you’ll see that there are two hanging syllables at the end, giving the last foot a total of five syllables. To the best of my knowledge no such foot is defined in Greek prosody, so the presence of this five syllable foot is a feature unique to English prosody. We defined the short-tailed iamb in discussing the previous example, so let’s take that extra syllable and call this a long-tailed anapaest.

Here’s another line of anapaests, this time with a single hanging syllable:

This is a hypercatalectic anapaestic pentameter, a rare thing indeed. Since there’s only a single hanging syllable, we can call that last foot a short-tailed anapaest. For the inquisitive mind, the technical term for this foot is tertius paeon. But I much prefer the short- and long-tailed designations as they more aptly express the prosodic structure and flow of English.

There’s one more example to cover, which can be tricky to talk about:

Okay, so this variation on the previous example is a hypercatalectic anapaestic-iambic tetrameter. The one iamb in the line is at the end, and it is followed by two hanging syllables. In keeping with classical prosody, we could call that last foot a secundus paeon, but I prefer to go with long-tailed iamb.

Further discussion is warranted where this last example is concerned. English prosody is incredibly dynamic and open to multiple points of perspective. I used a line of mostly anapaests to exemplify the long-tailed iamb because if it were a line of iambs the force of all those iambs would cause the final syllable to take on an accent, extending the meter by another iambic foot. Just see for yourself:

This is very much an iambic hexameter, covered in the first article of this series. For most people, the force of accents at regular iambic intervals will make it impossible to end a line with a long-tailed iamb, causing that final syllable to become accented enough to count as another iamb. The only way a line of poetry can close with a long-tailed iamb is if there are enough anapaests present to establish a pattern (and hence the expectation) of unaccented syllables occurring in pairs.

Anacrusis

Trochaic or dactylic lines that begin with an extra unaccented syllable are said to be anacrustic. The use of this term and concept allows for a way to talk about lines of poetry that are trochaic and/or dactylic, yet begin with this inexplicable extra syllable.

Because anacrusis can be the mirror image of hypercatalexis, I could use the previous examples to illustrate this concept as well. But for the sake of avoiding unnecessary confusion, I’ll introduce fresh examples. Let’s start with a line of trochees:

This is an anacrustic trochaic hexameter. Here you’ll see there’s an extra unaccented syllable at the front of the line with the word “like.” There are no terms specific to English prosody such as the short- and long-tailed iamb and anapaest discussed above that are currently used to talk about trochees or dactyls that contain a leading unaccented syllable. So for the time being, we must refer to that first foot as an amphibrach. To scan this line as anacrustic rather than hypercatalectic requires a shift in perspective from seeing iambs to seeing trochees. We’ll come back to this. But first, let’s look at a similar example involving dactyls:

This is an anacrustic dactylic tetrameter. Again, since there are no terms specific to English prosody that let us talk about that first foot in relation to dactyls, we’ll have to call that first foot a secundus paeon. At some point such feet should be identifiable in relation to their association with a line of trochees and/or dactyls, but for now we’re stuck with “amphibrach” and “secundus paeon.”

So far as I can tell, a line of trochees and/or dactyls cannot lead with two unaccented syllables. This is because in English, the first syllable wants to be accented when followed by an obviously unaccented syllable. I suppose I should exemplify this effect. Let’s make one small modification to the previous example:

By simply following the word “where” with “the,” the former takes on an accent, adding a trochaic foot the the front of the line, making it now a dactylic-trochaic pentameter. Even the force of several previous tetrameters would not be enough to suppress this effect. So, this is why I’m not providing examples for trochaic or dactylic lines that lead with two unaccented syllables. It just doesn’t work this way in English.

Shifting Perspective

It makes sense to exemplify the shifting of perspective between hypercatalexis and anacrusis in the same way we did for catalexis and acephalexis above. Let’s start with a quatrain containing a hypercatalectic line using the first example above:

Here three solid iambic pentameters are followed by a hypercatalectic iambic pentameter. The pattern of iambs in the first three lines continues seamlessly though the fourth line to the last foot where the short-tailed iamb establishes the line as hypercatalectic.

If it were any other line containing that extra unaccented syllable at the end, the preponderance of iambs throughout the stanza creates the same effect. In fact, even if all of the lines contained that unaccented syllable at the end (also called a feminine ending), the lines would still be hypercatalectic because every line leads with a pattern of iambs.

It’s only when you have what looks like an iambic and/or anapaestic deviation from a clear pattern of trochees and/or dactyls that perspective shifts from hypercatalexis to anacrusis. Let’s have a look at such a stanza now that includes the first anacrustic example above:

Here three solid trochaic hexameters are followed by an anacrustic trochaic hexameter. Because the line with the extra unaccented syllable is in a stanza comprised of trochees, perspective shifts from hypercatalexis to anacrusis.

The idea is to be able to talk about the meter of a line in relation to the meters that surround it. If the overall structure of a poem is iambic and/or anapaestic, then a line beginning and ending with an accented syllable will be acephalectic. Inversely, if the overall structure of a poem is trochaic and/or dactylic, then a line beginning and ending with unaccented syllables will be anacrustic. Otherwise, such lines will usually be catalectic and hypercatalectic, respectively.

This brings us now to the final portion of this article, keeping related feet together.

Combining Related Feet

Feet like the other walk together. If there are extra unaccented syllables in a largely iambic line, then you probably have some anapaests mixed in; likewise, if you have a few extra syllables in a mostly trochaic line, then you probably have some dactyls in your line. It is a good idea to think of anapaests as walking with iambs, and dactyls as walking with trochees.

The English language naturally makes free use of anapaests and dactyls. No one I have so far met speaks strictly in iambs and trochees, or two syllable feet. Syntactically, words just fall together in ways that come out as combinations of iambs and anapaests or trochees and dactyls.

Here is an example of a line that combines trochees and dactyls, taken from the first line of Robert Service’s “The Atavist“:

This is a catalectic trochaic-dactylic heptameter. There may be some who would scan this differently, but few would disagree that this is a heptameter. The idea is to be able to talk about what you yourself are scanning and to be able to communicate this well.

Assuming you are willing to agree with this scansion, this is a trochaic-dactylic heptameter as opposed to a dactylic-trochaic heptameter because there are more trochees than there are dactyls. Remember that the final foot of a catalectic line is considered a tailless trochee, a trochee that doesn’t have its tailing unaccented syllable. I’ll expand on this further, but first I would like to exemplify a line that combines iambs and anapaests.

Here is an example of a line that combines iambs and anapaests, taken from the second line of the same poem:

This is an anapaestic-iambic heptameter. The reason I put “anapaestic” first in this designation is that there are more anapaests in this line than there are iambs. Depending on which feet are predominant in a line of poetry, I will refer to the line that combines iambs and anapaests as either iambic-anapaestic or anapaestic-iambic. For the same reason, I will refer to the line that combines trochees and dactyls as either trochaic-dactylic or dactylic-trochaic.

To be clear, when a line has more iambs than anapaests, it is an iambic-anapaestic line. When it has more anapaests than iambs, it is an anapaestic-iambic line. The same holds for lines that combine trochees and dactyls. When a line has more trochees than dactyls, it is a trochaic-dactylic line. When it has more dactyls than trochees, it is a dactylic-trochaic line.

Ties, however, have to be broken in some way, and I use the final foot of a line to accomplish this. So, when there is a tie between iambs and anapaests or trochees and dactyls, I’ll break the tie in favor of the type of foot closes the line.

For instance, here is a line that combines an even number of iambs and anapaests:

This is an anapaestic-iambic tetrameter because the tie between the two anapaests and two iambs is broken using the final foot of the line, which is an anapaest. I break the tie using the final foot rather than the first foot because the meter of a line tends to be established more by the type of feet that close the line than by the type of feet within the line.

Here’s another example using a line that combines trochees and dactyls:

This is a dactylic-trochaic hexameter because the tie between the three dactyls and three trochees is broken using the final foot, which is a dactyl.

I think these examples get the point across. Again, and I can’t stress this enough, the point of this article is not to tell you how to scan lines of poetry so much as to teach you how to talk about what you do scan and to offer guidelines that I think could help simplify that scansion.

Toward this end I’ve explained and exemplified lines that begin and end with an accented syllable, lines that begin and end with an unaccented syllable, circumstances that can shift perspective relative to the structure of the stanza and/or poem, and the combining of related feet. As I’ve done so I’ve introduced and defined terms that will allow you to talk intelligently about these variations in metrical composition.

If you have any thoughts, please feel free to leave them in the comments. I’m always looking to deepen and expand my understanding of English prosody.

This is the second of three articles treating on the subject of scansion and meter in poetry. Here I explain and provide concrete examples demonstrating two fundamental feet in English prosody, the anapaest and the dactyl.

Overview

The anapaest (‘an uh ,pest) and the dactyl (‘dact ul) are each a foot consisting of three syllables. The anapaest consists of two unaccented syllables followed by one accented syllable. In a way, it can be looked at as an extension of the iamb in that it uses one more unaccented syllable. The dactyl consists of one accented syllable followed by two unaccented syllables, and this can be looked at as an extension of the trochee for the same reason.

The anapaest and dactyl occur naturally in English poetry. In fact, every line of poetry that is not strictly iambic or trochaic likely contains one or more anapaests or dactyls. The English language has a natural flow to it that can almost always be broken down into combinations of iambs and anapaests or trochees and dactyls.

Functionally, the anapaest and dactyl serve to create variation in lines of poetry that would otherwise be overly iambic or trochaic. Many people now consider poems consisting purely of iambic or trochaic lines to be affected and artificial because they do not represent a natural flow of language. Depending on a poem’s content, style and general use of language, this may or may not be true. Either way, the anapaest and the dactyl can work with the iamb and trochee to accentuate mood and texturize ideas. The poet who is interested in exploring the way a structured use of feet can affect language will in time learn to consciously accentuate particular elements within a line and create engaging, lyrical textures throughout a poem.

Because such prosodic effects on the reader are largely subjective and subconscious, it becomes difficult to discuss exactly what combinations of feet will create which effects within the reader’s mind in relation to language content. It is impossible to know or to generalize. However, the poet can explore the use of feet such as the anapaest and the dactyl and come to his or her own conclusions based on experimentation and practice.

As with the iamb and the trochee, information about the anapaest and the dactyl from a purely technical standpoint is abundant, yet there are not a lot of examples that demonstrate their use in diverse structures. Starting with the anapaest, I will exemplify them in detail so that they may be seen to work functionally. In the examples below, I use the period [.] to represent unaccented syllables and the dash [–] for accented syllables.

Anapaestic Examples

Let’s start looking at line structures. Following are five examples of anapaestic lines, starting from the shortest possible line containing an anapaest–a single anapaest–to a line containing five anapaestic feet. After each example line below, I provide its notation and a parenthesized division of the line’s anapaests followed by some notes.

Here’s a line containing a single anapaest:

If some emphasis is placed on “To”, this could also be scanned as either a catalectic trochaic dimeter (missing the last syllable) or a headless iambic dimeter (missing the first syllable). For our purposes, read the line quickly in order to sense the anapaestic effect. Consider also that an existing metrical scheme will influence the way a particular line reads one way or the other. As you continue looking at these examples, bear in mind that the first syllable of a line opening with an anapaest could potentially be accentuated, depending on variables. You can get around this effect by consciously suppressing that first accent.

Here’s a line containing two anapaestic feet. Two-foot lines are referred to as a “dimeters” (nounal) or “bimetric” (adjectival), so this line is an anapaestic dimeter:

Here’s a line containing three anapaestic feet. Three-foot lines are referred to as “trimeters” or “trimetric”, so this line is an anapaestic trimeter:

Here’s a line containing four anapaestic feet. Four-foot lines are referred to as “tetrameters” or “tetrametric”, so this line is an anapaestic tetrameter:

By now you may be starting to see why purely anapaestic lines three feet or longer are somewhat rare. Try reading this tetrameter out loud a couple of times. It is in the nature of the anapaest and the dactyl to speed up the flow of language. When you have three or more of them in a row it can begin to sound like another language altogether when spoken out loud because the verbal pace becomes so quickened. This is also why I am only providing examples up to six feet, because it is really not worth anyone’s time to study anapaestic or dactylic lines beyond the hexameter.

Here’s a line containing five anapaestic feet. Five-foot lines are referred to as “pentameters” or “pentametric”, so this line is an anapaestic pentameter:

You may have heard people refer to a poem as having a bad case of the “iambic trots”, but I am here to tell you that the iambic trots are much more preferable than the “anapestic gallops”. This line is an example only. I think the average reader would be hard pressed to find an actual line of English poetry that is an anapaestic pentameter. In fact, I would be shocked to discover that a quatrain composed of anapaestic pentameters even existed.

Consider that a catalectic trochaic octameter (eight trochees with the last syllable missing) will contain the same number of syllables as this example line, yet will read more easily. So that you may compare such a line to the above, I’ll demonstrate the dramatic difference:

My article, “Three Useful Concepts in Scansion,” explains the unusual terms I’ve been using, such as “catalectic,” complete with examples.

Dactylic Examples

As stated in the overview, the dactyl is the exact inverse of the anapaest, with the first syllable accented instead of the last. As with the anapaest, or any foot, the dactyl can be comprised of a single word, multiple words, or parts of words. In the illustrating examples above and below, you may have noticed a words split between parenthesized feet, and that more than a single word often comprises a foot.

Five dactylic lines are exemplified below, starting as above from the shortest possible line containing a dactyl–a single dactyl–to a line containing five dactylic feet.

Here’s a line containing a single dactyl:

I chose a single word because it is very easy to accentuate the last syllable of a dactyl when that syllable is its own word. Compare the word “poisonous” to the phrase “listen now”. This of course would change the way the line is scanned. Even with the word “poisonous” by itself, there is a slight accentuation of the final syllable, bordering on becoming a secondary accent. This will often happen when a dactyl occurs at the close of a line. But, as pointed out above, the existing metrical scheme of a poem will bear strong influence on the salience or suppression of a syllable’s accent. Keep this in mind as you continue reading these examples.

Here’s a line containing two dactylic feet. This is a dactylic dimeter:

Here’s a line containing three dactylic feet. This is a dactylic trimeter:

Here’s a line containing four dactylic feet. This is a dactylic tetrameter:

Note that the word “bungalow” generally has a secondary accent on its final syllable which normally would be counted into the meter. However, because of the force of the preceding dactyls, that final accent seems to be suppressed considerably. This accentual interrelationship within and between lines of poetry is something really worth meditating upon when working with meter. As I’ve pointed out before—and can’t emphasize enough—the lines surrounding a given line in a poem will have influence on its meter. Many of the lines I use as examples would read differently when juxtaposed with other lines of varying meters.

Here’s a line containing five dactylic feet. This is a dactylic pentameter:

Note again that that final syllable could have a secondary accent, but again the force of the preceding dactyls should subdue it.

It is very rare that you’ll see an anapaestic or dactylic pentameter in your reading of poetry, especially since readers will often subconsciously shift some of the syllables in a long series of anapaests or dactyls in order to slow down the pace. For the most part, anapaests and dactyls are mixed with iambs and trochees. This is further explored in the next article of this series, “Three Useful Concepts in Scansion.”

This is the first of three articles treating on the subject of scansion and meter in poetry. Here I explain and provide concrete examples demonstrating the two most common metrical feet in English prosody, the iamb and the trochee. But first I delve into some observations of how contemporary poets often eschew learning–or even talking–about meter in poetry.

Background

It seems to me that most poets today do not appreciate the power of meter in poetry. When experimented with, it tends to be just that, an experiment and nothing more. Today’s poets rarely–if ever–use meter for its emotive capabilities and rhythmic potentials.

In fact, many poets seem even to harbor real animosity towards certain–if not all–aspects of English prosody. I’m not sure why this is. It has occurred to me that this resistance could come from feeling that devices such as the iamb and the trochee are rules being forcibly imposed upon them. If so, this should not be the case—these are simply tools in a large toolbox of techniques, methods, and styles.

Perhaps it’s not necessary to know anything at all about meter to write strong poetry, but I’m going to go out on a limb and suggest that it really helps. I’ll even go a step further and say that meter is an invaluable tool in the process of discovering ways to create poignant poetic expressions.

Overview

Information about the iamb and the trochee from a purely technical standpoint is actually abundant, yet there are very few examples that really demonstrate how they can be used in diverse structures. Starting with the iamb, I will tell you precisely what the iamb and trochee are, and then I’ll exemplify them in detail so that they may be seen to work functionally.

They are each a type of verbal metrical unit known as a foot. The concept of a metrical foot in poetry is not actually native to English prosody; it is borrowed from ancient treatises on Greek prosody. In Greek prosody, there are several types of feet, most of which probably do not apply to English. In fact, those types of feet commonly discussed in English prosody have already been modified from their quantitative (length of syllable—another topic entirely) Greek counterparts. In English, feet are formed not from syllable length, but from accented (also pitched or stressed) and unnaccented (also flat or unstressed) syllables. Now, with all this in mind, we can meaningfully define these two types of feets and provide examples.

The Iamb

The iamb is a foot consisting of one unaccented syllable followed by one accented syllable—irrespective of syllable length. The iamb, as with all metrical feet, can be comprised of a single word or parts of words, as will be exemplified below.

Classical English prosody used a slash [/] and an uppercase u [U] to indicate accented [/] and unaccented [U] syllables. I have over time developed my own notation, which I use as syllable placeholders when writing metered poetry. To notate unaccented syllables I use the period [.], and for accented syllables I use the dash [–]. For my brain, and hopefully for yours as well, this is much easier and less distracting to follow.

Iambic Examples

Let’s now look at the iamb as used in actual line structures. Following are eight examples of strictly iambic lines, starting from the shortest possible line containing an iamb–a single iamb–to a line containing eight iambic feet. After each example line below, I provide its notation and a parenthesized division of the line’s iambs followed by some notes.

Here’s a line containing a single iambus:

Here’s a line containing two iambic feet. Two-foot lines are referred to as a “dimeters” (nounal) or “dimetric” (adjectival), so this line is an iambic dimeter:

Here’s a line containing three iambic feet. Three-foot lines are referred to as “trimeters” or “trimetric”, so this line is an iambic trimeter:

Here’s a line containing four iambic feet. Four-foot lines are referred to as “tetrameters” or “tetrametric”, so this line is an iambic tetrameter:

Here’s a line containing five iambic feet. Five-foot lines are referred to as “pentameters” or “pentametric”, so this line is an iambic pentameter:

The iambic pentameter is thought to be the most commonly used meter in English poetry. This is probably true. Heavy users of iambic pentameter include Shakespeare, John Milton, and Robert Service. There are of course many, many more.

Here’s a line consisting of six iambic feet. Six-foot lines are referred to as “hexameters” or “hexametric”, so this line is an iambic hexameter:

The hexameter was as popular in Hellenistic (ancient Greek) poetry as the pentameter has been in English poetry. But, keep in mind that Greek is not an accented language. The iamb in Greek pertained to a short and a long syllable, not an unaccented and an accented syllable.

Once lines get to about this length, it is common for there to be a natural pause somewhere therein. In this line that pause is occurring between the words “dreams” and “among”. This pause, wherever it occurs, is called the caesura (see ‘syoor ah). Such pauses can be very brief, as with the caesura in this line, or they can be more pronounced. Caesurae can be used to verbally punctuate ideas and emotions in poetry by causing them to occur at locations that highlight key words and phrases. Bear in mind that while most people will naturally pause at about the same place within a line when reciting a poem, this will not be true of everyone.

Here’s a line consisting of seven iambic feet. Seven-foot lines are referred to as “heptameters” or “heptametric”, so this line is an iambic heptameter. They are also sometimes called by “septameters”:

Note that the caesura here is also occurring between the words “dreams” and “among”. You might find that the pause is slightly more pronounced this time. This would be because the first hemistich is longer by one foot. A hemistich (‘hem i ,stick) is that portion of a line of verse that occurs before and after the caesura. These can be talked about in terms of their own meter. For instance, the first hemistich of this line is an iambic tetrameter and the second is an iambic trimeter.

Here’s a line of eight iambic feet. You might guess how these are referenced—as “octameters” or “octometric”. So this line is an iambic octameter:

Notice how the 4^th, 7^th and 8^th feet split words. The words aren’t actually split when you read, just when analyzing the prosodic structure of the line. In this line the caesura also occurs after the fourth foot.

The dreaded octameter can be extremely overwhelming. I’ve only used this meter a handful of times myself. For instance, in my ghazal poem “My Love”. You’ll notice that this poem makes use of the caesura between the forth and fifth feet in order to allow for the option to breath while reading.

Trochaic Examples

The trochee (‘trow kee) is the exact inverse of the iamb. It is a foot consisting of one accented syllable followed by one unaccented syllable. As with the iamb, or any foot, the trochee can be comprised of a single word or parts of words. In the illustrating examples above and below, you’ll notice that I split several words between the parenthesized feet.

Here are eight examples of trochaic (trow ‘kay ik) lines, starting again from the shortest possible line containing a trochee, a single trochee, to a line containing eight trochaic feet.

First, a single trochee:

Here’s a line containing two trochaic feet. This is a trochaic dimeter:

Here’s a line containing three trochaic feet. This is a trochaic trimeter:

Here’s a line containing four trochaic feet. This is a trochaic tetrameter:

Here’s a line containing five trochaic feet. This is a trochaic pentameter:

Here’s a line consisting of six trochaic feet. This is a trochaic hexameter:

Here’s a line consisting of seven trochaic feet. This is a trochaic heptameter:

Here’s a line of eight trochaic feet. This is a trochaic octameter:

Note the presence of that the natural pause I mentioned above. It occurs in all the longer lines, starting with at least the hexameter. When a pause is very brief, I’ve heard this referred to as a soft caesura, and I’ve heard the longer and more pronounced pauses referred to as hard caesurae.

Note that in the trochaic octameter a hard caesura occurs just after the word “place”, causing the second half of the line to feel more iambic than trochaic. Prosody accounts for variation such as this. At some point, I plan to devote an article specifically to caesurae and hemistichs. These can in their own right be useful to understand.

In another article, “Discovering the Anapaest and the Dactyl”, I talk about the anapaest and the dactyl—close cousins of the iamb and the trochee—using this same approach.