Any of you that can think back as far as kindergarten or first grade, are familiar with verses that rhyme. Any of you that remember High School English 101 will remember blank verse. And for those of us that are have any interest in poetry, it seems we have staked out preference for one or the other. Well, at least I have.
I think of the two as compared with, say, abstract art or realism; Stravinsky or Beethoven, hot fudge sundae or sushi. It’s a matter of taste. (yes, pun intended) I will freely admit a preference for rhyming verse. There is a discipline and craftsmanship to it. There is a place for blank verse, to be sure. And some of it can move me to tears . . . or fears . . . or anger. But my true affinity is for the rhymed stanza.
As a child I fell in love with Robert Louis Stevenson (“Oh, how I love to go up in a swing”) and Longfellow (By the shores of Gitchegoomy.”). As a junior higher I set out to memorize The Midnight Ride of Paul Revere. I made it through about five stanzas . . . then I think I got distracted by boys or some such. But my ear of fine-tuned preference was tutored by learning the lyrics of songs. Lines like:
What are you doing the rest of your life?
North and south and east and west of your life?
I have only one request of your life
That you spend it all with me.
All the seasons and the times of your days.
All the nickels and the dimes of your days.
Let the reasons and the rhymes of your days.
All begin and end with me.
-Alan and Marilyn Bergman
or
In a mountain greenery
Where God paints the scenery
Just two crazy people together.
While you love your lover, let
Blue skies be your coverlet.
If it rains we’ll laugh at the weather.
-Lorenz Hart
There you have well crafted poetry.
It’s kinda like Ginger Rogers said about dancing with Fred Astair. “I did all the same steps he did … only backwards … and in heels!” Those poets follow all the same grammatical rules of poetry and the language, only they have to do it to the discipline of the melody line rhythm.
I’ve never been inspired to make a stab at poetry and/or lyrics … except on one occasion. Way back when my children were toddlers, I heard or read somewhere that in English, there is no rhyme for a number of words, one of which is “orange.” So, I set down the following bit of doggerel.
Oh I adore eng-
ineers.
They build a bridge and call it Golden
then they paint it orange
Oh, I adore eng-
ineers.
Hey, I didn’t claim that it was Shakespeare.
Adrienne Jacoby is a 40-plus-year resident of Shasta County and native-born Californian. She was a teacher of vocal music in the Enterprise Schools for 27 years and has been retired for 11 years.
A musician all her life, she was married to the late Bill Jacoby with whom she formed a locally well -known musical group who prided themselves in playing for weddings, wakes, riots, bar mitzvas and super market openings. And, oh yes . . . she has two children, J’Anna and Jayson.
