Iambic Pentameter (The Basics)

  • Revised, tweaked and improved March 24 2009.
  • February 22, 2009 – If you enjoy Frost, you might like reading Birches along with a color coded scansion of Birches included in my post on Frost’s Mending Wall. To find all the posts I’ve written on Robert Frost, click here.
  • After you’ve read up on Iambic Pentameter, take a look at some of my poetry. I’m not half-bad. One of the reasons I write these posts is so that a few readers, interested in meter and rhyme, might want to try out my poetry. Check out Spider, Spider or, if you want modern Iambic Pentameter, try  My Bridge is like a Rainbow or Come Out! Take a copy to class if you need an example of Modern Iambic Pentameter. Pass it around if you have friends or relatives interested in this kind of poetry.
  • November 14th 2015 Another blogger has taken up the effort to write some introductory posts on Iambic Pentameter. He takes a different tact than I do, choosing to recognize larger patterns (repeating patterns) in multiple feet: the 4th paeon, the 1rst epitrite, the 3rd epitrite, the Spondee-paeon, the Paeon-Spondee, the choriamb, the minor ionic, and minor ioncis with deferred closures, etc.. His blog is called versemeter  and his first introductory posts are broken into three parts: Iambic Pentameter Part 1, Part 2 and Part 3. I encourage you to take a look, see what you think, and comment. Let him know what you think. At minimum, it demonstrates that there are different approaches to meter. Use the one that works for you.

First Appearance

Iambic Pentameter is the meter of Blank Verse, most Sonnets, and a variety of verse forms starting in the14th and continuing through the 21rst Century.

Iambic Pentameter is closely associated with Blank Verse, which some websites credit as having first been written by Henry Howard, Earl of Surrey. The assertion is incorrect. Chaucer was, in fact, the first poet to write Iambic Pentameter and examples can be found with the prologue of the Canterbury Tales.

Whan that aprill with his shoures soote
The droghte of march hath perced to the roote,
chaucer-stained-glassAnd bathed every veyne in swich licour
Of which vertu engendred is the flour;
Whan zephirus eek with his sweete breeth
Inspired hath in every holt and heeth
Tendre croppes, and the yonge sonne
Hath in the ram his halve cours yronne,
And smale foweles maken melodye,
That slepen al the nyght with open ye
(so priketh hem nature in hir corages);
Thanne longen folk to goon on pilgrimages,
And palmeres for to seken straunge strondes,
To ferne halwes, kowthe in sondry londes;
And specially from every shires ende
Of Engelond, to Caunterbury they wende,
The hooly blisful martir for to seke
That hem hath holpen, whan that they were seeke.

Although, at first glance, this may not appear to be Iambic Pentameter, it is. We’ll get back to it in another post.

What is Iambic and Pentameter?

All of Elizabethan, Jacobean and Restoration Drama, written in verse, is written using Iambic Pentameter (Blank Verse) – this includes all of Shakespeare’s Plays and Sonnets. Milton’s Paradise Lost is written in Iambic Pentameter. Keats’ Sonnets & Hyperion, along with most of his major poems, are written in Iambic Pentameter.  Almost every major poet , prior to the 20th Century, wrote Iambic Pentameter when writing their best known poetry.  Exceptions would be poets like Walt Whitman (free verse), Robert Burns (who wrote a variety of metrical lines – mostly iambic), and Emily Dickinson (whose meter is derived from hymn tunes, which is why so many of her poems can be sung to Yellow Rose of Texas).

Iambic is an adjective. Iamb is the noun and is short for Iambus. Iambus is from the Greek and refers to two. Therefore, Iamb refers to any two syllable “unit”, referred to as a foot by metrists, consisting of an unstressed syllable followed by a stressed syllable (or ictus).

What is a Foot?

A foot is defined as a group of syllables (unspecified in number) comprising a metrical unit. In the case of an Iamb, the metrical foot contains two syllables.

In the following example, I’ve bolded and italicized the stressed syllables.

To be or not to be

The bolded and italicized words receive greater stress, when speaking, than the words which have not been bolded or italicized.

Now, if we break this line into feet, we end up with following:

To be | or not | to be | that is | the question.

Except for the last foot, each foot consists of two syllables. The last foot is a variant called an amphibrach (in that it varies from the first four iambic feet). The amphibrach is a foot (a metrical unit) consisting of an unstressed, stressed, and unstressed syllable.

A strictly iambic line would be:

Of hand, | of foot, | of lip, | of eye, | of brow   (Shakespeare: Sonnet 106: Line 6)

What is Pentameter

The Greek prefix Pent- or Penta-, means five. Pentameter therefore means a line of verse consisting of five metrical feet. Remember, a metrical foot contains an unspecified number of syllables until it is modified by an adjective like Iambic.

What is Iambic Pentameter

The adjective, Iambic, modifies Pentameter to mean, a line of verse consisting of five Iambic metrical feet [feet containing an unstressed and stressed syllable].

There are also examples of poems written in trochaic pentameter. In this case, the term would mean a line of verse consisting of five trochaic [metrical feet [feet containing an stressed and unstressed syllable]. (Note: The stressed and unstressed syllables, in comparison to Iambic, are reversed.)  It would also be possible to have amphibrachic pentameter. To my knowledge, no poems have been written in this meter. If any reader knows of one, let me know!

The line:

Of hand, | of foot, | of lip, | of eye, | of brow

is strictly Iambic Pentameter because each foot is strictly an Iamb and there are strictly five feet.

The line:

To be | or not | to be | that is | the question.

or

To be | or not | to be | that is | the question.

is not, strictly speaking, an Iambic Pentameter line, because the final foot is amphibrachic and the fourth foot may be read as being trochaic. However, it is considered an acceptable variant of the Iambic Pentameter line. In the second scansion of the line above, putting the emphasis on is might sound awkward, but imagine an actor speaking the line. The second scansion gives the line a different emphasis. It all depends on where the is is.

Perfect Iambic Pentameter?

After having written this, I’ve noticed various websites who (not to put too fine a point on the matter) get it wrong. Frostfriends.org, for example, writes the following about the closing line of Frost’s poem Birches:

Birches: “It’s when I’m weary of considerations.” This line is perfect iambic pentameter, with an extra metrical (feminine) ending.

Their statement is incorrect. This line is not perfect iambic pentameter (and this is more than just splitting hairs). A perfectly iambic pentameter line would not have a feminine ending (an amphibrach) in the final foot. The correct thing to say would have been – this is a perfectly acceptable variant within an iambic pentameter pattern.

More on this poem, and its scansion, can be found at my post on Frost’s Birches.

Symbols used in scanning Metrical Poetry

Lastly, the symbols used to denote stress in a line of verse are as follows:

weak-stress This symbol denotes a weak stress.

intermediate-stressThis symbol denotes an intermediate stress.


strong-stressThis symbol denotes a strong stress.

metrical-divider This symbol denotes the division of a metrical foot.

So, the line above would appear as follows:

to-be-scansion

Note: I’ve scanned that as receiving the stress although I believe that the word is should receive it. For more on this opinion and why, visit my post on To Be or Not To Be.

And consider the following scansion:

when-to-scansion

In the scansion above, notice that the word sweet receives an intermediate stress. This means that most readers would probably put less stress on sweet (saying it less loudly) than on the syllable si– of silent. Try it out. Also, importantly, notice that the feet divide the words. An iambic metrical foot consists of two syllables, not necessarily two words. Thus, count two syllables and mark off a foot, count two more syllables and mark off a foot, etc… Mark off every two syllables regardless of the words. If the lines contains more than 10 syllables, as in the scansion of “To be or not be”, one of your metrical feet will not be iambic.

A Ten Syllable Line is not the same as an Iambic Pentameter Line

It’s also possible that just because a line has ten syllables, it might not have 5 feet. It might have four feet with two anapestic feet. And this is where science becomes art. There is an art to scansion, but it is not hard to learn. While metrical feet may divide words, the placement of metrical feet is not insensitive to phrasing. In other words, sometimes it may make more sense to recognize a phrase as being anapestic or, as with feminine endings, amphibrachic.

(My next post answers what to do when considering such variants.) In the example above, the last foot was not iambic. In other examples, the first, second, third or fourth foot might not be iambic. When I write my next post, on variant lines, we’ll figure out how to tell which foot gets the extra syllable.

Two More Symbols: Elision

There are two more commonly used symbol to consider. One is the symbol for elision. Elision means that instead of pronouncing a word as having, say, two syllables, it is pronounced as having one. Likewise, a word that appears to have three syllables, might be pronounced as two.

elision This symbol denotes elision.

Consider the following line:

scansion-with-elision

This example is taken from George T. Wright’s Shakespeare’s Metrical Art. Only the first foot is scanned. Notice that lier of livelier may be pronounced with two syllables li-er or one -lier. If the reader wishes to maintain the iambic rhythm of the line, the whole word livelier would be pronounced with two syllables. If the word were pronounced with three, then the line would be considered dactylic – a strong stress or syllable followed by two weak stresses or syllables.

livelier

Two More Symbols: The Missing Syllable

Finally, a less common but equally useful symbol designates a missing syllable.

missing-syllable

It is useful when discussing variant lines, such as the following from my blank verse poem My Bridge is Like a Rainbow:

missing-syllable-in-my-bridge

The symbol indicates a missing syllable in an otherwise fully Iambic line. The line itself is called a headless line, but more on that in my next post.

The next post will deal with sorting out variation in the Iambic Pentameter line  – how they can be read, how to know, and if you can know.

Other Symbols, Other Systems

the-book-of-formsIt’s worth noting that there are other systems and symbols used to denote stress patterns in English Language Poetry. The one that I’ve presented here is the most universally used and recognized. There may be slight differences. For instance, Lewis Turco, in his book The Book of Forms, doesn’t use the intermediate symbol that I provided above – he uses a dot instead.

turco-intermediate-stressSymbol used for Intermediate Stress in Lewis Turco’s The Book of Forms.

Besides the difference in this one symbol, however, Turco uses the same basic system I have been describing. You may run across other symbols or, if you are researching this as a part of a class, you may have an instructor that prefers one symbol over another. All that matters is that you understand the basic ideas that these symbols represent. The symbols themselves are secondary.

Beyond this point, the fights between metrists can get ugly. There is no end to the precision to which some metrists aspire. Some detest the basic system of scansion described above. Some dispense with the symbols altogether and opt to typographically move individual words up or down (in relation to each other) according to how much stress they believe each word should receive. My own view is that these systems of scansion lose sight of their original purpose. They reflect a sort of obsessiveness that has more to do with linquistics than with poetry.

  • Note: There are critics & poets who deny that meter “exists”. I tend to group them with flat-earthers and moon landing denialists. Dan Schneider, of Cosmoetica, is one of them. If you’re curious to read my response to some of his writing, read Critiquing the Critic: Is Meter Real.

(This is the short form, for a slightly more detailed description, try Wikipedia.)

Feel free to comment if you have questions or suggestions.

Guest Book

full-fox-print-color-corrected-reducedWelcome!  Please read some of my poetry while you’re here. Even if a post is two years old, they’re being read every day. They’re all current. Feel free to join the conversation. Lastly, treat this post as a Guest Book. Offer suggestions, improvements, requests or just say Hello! If you have a question concerning poetry or a poem, click read more at the end of this sentence and fill out the form. Continue reading

Three Masterful Haiku by online Hakuists

[If you came to this post looking for more general information on Haiku, take a look my post on Haiku called What is: Haiku. If you’re looking for Haiku on certain themes, try the Categories Widget at right or use the search feature.]

I have a renewed interest in Haiku. Their brevity and compression helps me express ideas and observations that I don’tt have time to work out in longer poems – though I do continue to work on longer poems. As part of my renewed interest I’ve been visiting and enjoying different Haiku blogs. My favorites are the bloggers who try to write at least one Haiku a day and I have found two that I like very much.

I was inspired to reprint their Haiku here because their Haiku are powerful and deserve to be read by more readers.

The first is Crows & Daisies, a blog by Polona Oblak. Stricktly speaking, she writes Haiga.

The following is her November 25th contribution:

//crowsndaisies.blogspot.com/ for the original.

The compression and evocative power of the Haiku is perfectly illustrated by Oblak. The sum of her three lines far exceeds their content in that the reader is compelled not just to imagine the  bird’s tracks in the snow, but also the bird and its startled leap into the air. That she evokes this imagery without its description demonstrates a certain mastery of the form – an intuitive grasp of the Haiku’s unique potential. A poet with less experience might have written something like:

prints end
in the snowy path – startled
bird

This haiku essentially conveys the same information but undermines some of the Haiku’s very strengths. The art of great haiku is in the form’s capacity to create an image and narrative that transcend the poem’s size. The great Haiku is like the pebble sending ripples deeply across the waters of the reader’s mind. Polona’s Haiku accomplishes just that.

woman’s desire
deeply rooted —
the wild violets

Chiyo-ni – Chiyo-ni Woman Haiku Master

Another strong Hakuist can be found at the blog: haiku notebook by w.f. owen. Owen adopts a one line approach which is keeping with Japanese Haiku. (The Japanese Haiku is written with cutting words, which translators have interpreted as line breaks.)

Owen’s November 25th contribution:

W.F. Owen - Flawless Persimmon

W.F. Owen – Flawless Persimmon

The compression in the Haiku is powerfully effective. The ambiguity of the poem’s meaning lends it meaning beyond what’s stated. Owen could have written: “the persimmon has a seed”. But he chose to describe the persimmon as flawless.  Then the reader might ask: Is the persimmon flawless because it contains a seed? – or is Owen expressing surprise that the “flawless persimmon” has been flawed by the seed? In this ambiguity we find what is, perhaps, one of the most profound Haiku I have read online. By flawless we usually think of beauty and perfection. But while life grants beauty and perfection, such flawlessness is momentary – an ephemeral dream.

But would the persimmon have been perfect if it had had no seed? The poet’s surprise, if one wishes to interpret it as that, is also an acknowledgment. The persimmon, or life, is made both perfect and imperfect by the seed. The seed is an acknowledgment of both the persimmon’s imperfection, that it must age and be flawed, but also its paradoxical perfection, that in order to be perfect, it must carry a seed inside – and that from this seed will spring renewed flawlessness. From this paradoxical heart is the heart of a great Haiku. From imperfection comes perfection – from the flaw comes flawlessness. There could be no life without it. The pithiness of the Haiku is aphoristic and, in my house, will become an aphorism.

Owen followed this Haiku by another November 26th.

W.F. Owen - Rustling Leaves

W.F. Owen – Rustling Leaves

While this Haiku may not attain the transcendent ambiguity and meaning of its predecessor, qualities that distinguish the Haiku from longer verse forms, there is nonetheless an evocative eeriness that is powerful and worth enjoying.

The “rustling leaves” tells us that the poem is written in Autumn. It tells us that there must be a strong breeze or wind, enough to stir leaves, and that the wind must be cold. The poet pulls up the covers. But the power of an image like this, not extenuated, is in guessing that one can pull up the covers not just for warmth, but out of fear – and that is what lends this Haiku its own eery power and resonance. Maybe the leaves aren’t rustling because of the wind? Could it be something else? Autumn is the season of endings and death – and nothing so reminds us of our temporary lives than the fall of leaves. Why does the poet pull up the covers? We are left wondering. We are left knowing that theleaves, themselves, are like a cover, readying the earth for a long sleep.

Our humanity is a common bond that is not separated by time. A hundred years before, a woman wrote:

sleeping alone
awakened
by the frosty night…

– Chiyo-ni – From Chiyo-ni Woman Haiku Master