Experimental poetry 13: Breaking Structure

Variation in poetry? Yes please! Poetry doesn't always need to be beautiful, soothing or idyllic. Poetry can also be challenging, disturbing, grating, and even downright uncomfortable to read or listen to. Make your poem chaotic and you'll capture a lot of attention! 

How do you introduce variation into your poetry? Well, in previous posts in this series I have written about surprise end rhymes, anarchic poetry and random prompt poetry. Adding an unexpected element to your writing keeps people guessing and piques the interest. 

One of the great sins of poetry is to be predictable to the point of blandness. The key aim of all experimental poetry is to force you outside of your comfort zone and into uncharted territory. If you walk this pathway, no one will ever again be able to accuse you of being a boring poet!

Method 22: Assonant endings. Ditch the forced end rhyme! There's nothing worse than a poem that loses its credibility because the writer is forced into using words just for the sake of the rhyme! If you can't or won't break out of the shackles of the end rhyme, then try using assonance instead. Examples include love/enough and rise/tried. Here, only the vowel sound is consistent. Assonant endings will give you a greater variety of vocabulary to choose from. 

Method 23: Breaking the line. Write sentences that vary in length. Forget about tempo or rhythm. Let your words flow unobstructed across several lines. The sentence doesn't have to conclude at the end of a line. Bleed part of the sentence over into the next line. Then start another sentence on the same line. This is known as enjambment. Break up the sentence into punch sized smaller lines so that it cascades down the page. Spread the words out randomly across the page, with plenty of space between them. The options are multiple. 

Method 24: Breaking the structure. Take one of your previously written poems and examine it. What could you do to break up the structure? How could you change it by inserting line breaks, adding unconventional grammar, inserting strange punctuation, or unexpected words to jar or surprise your reader? Maybe a strange, repeated refrain will create intrigue... your variation is only limited by your imagination!

Steve Wheeler 

Previous posts in this series

Experimental Poetry 1: Found Poetry
Experimental Poetry 2: Stream of Consciousness
Experimental Poetry 3: Fake Translations
Experimental Poetry 4: Overlapping Voices
Experimental Poetry 5: Random Prompts
Experimental Poetry 6: The Movie Method
Experimental Poetry 7: Unexpected End Rhymes
Experimental Poetry 8: Calligrams
Experimental Poetry 9: Anarchic Poetry
Experimental Poetry 10: Timed Writing
Experimental Poetry 11: Paraphrasing
Experimental Poetry 12: Deliberate Malapropism

Image from Wikimedia Commons

Experimental Poetry 7: Unexpected End Rhymes

For me, poetry is the art of constructing sentences and stanzas in a novel and entirely unexpected way. That means surprising readers with strange confections of words, and avoiding the predictable. One of the most predictable facets of sub-par poetry is the end rhyme. Badly thought-out, lazy or forced rhymes in poetry detract from the message, musicality or aesthetics of the piece. And there are so many bad rhyming poems! If you're intent on using end rhymes, then at least make them unusual, unpredictable, comic or perhaps even shocking. 

Method 12: Unexpected End Rhymes. One of the stanzas in a comic poem I wrote many years ago goes like this:

Got to write a poem and I got to write it soon
They've given me from now until the end of September

Yes, it's jarring, but it always raises a laugh from my audiences when I perform it live, because everyone expects me to say June. Comedy is often about the unexpected. And comedy has its place in poetry, especially the performance genre.

Even more absurd is another stanza toward the end of the poem:

I wandered lonely as a cloud amongst the forest glades and jungles
And all at once I came upon a host of golden ... daffodungles

I'm depicting the struggles of the poet as he tries to force an end rhyme. Poetry shouldn't be about forcing end rhymes and in the process losing the meaning or the message of the poem. Too many poets seem to think (especially when they are new to the scene) that all poetry must rhyme. It doesn't, and the worst kind of poetry is poetry where the rhyme has been forced or contrived. In the above poem I'm making fun of this approach, and saying - look, if you're going to rhyme, make it meaningful, and if you can't achieve that, make it shocking, unexpected, comic instead. 

Steve Wheeler

Previous posts in this series

Experimental Poetry 1: Found Poetry
Experimental Poetry 2: Stream of Consciousness
Experimental Poetry 3: Fake Translations
Experimental Poetry 4: Overlapping Voices
Experimental Poetry 5: Random Prompts
Experimental Poetry 6: The Movie Method

Photo from Flickr used with a Creative Commons licence

Experimental Poetry 3: Fake Translations

Method 6: Fake Translations

Now here's a really strange idea for you (They will get even stranger, believe me): If you want to break out of a rut you find yourself in - especially if it's about something creative, like writing poetry - try this on for size. Grab hold of some foreign text - it really doesn't matter what the language is, it simply needs to be a language you are not very fluent in. Also, it doesn't really matter what the subject is about, it just needs to be a foreign language text.

Next, sit down and read it, and try to make sense of what is being said. You may recognise a few foreign words and know their translation. Use that as your starting point as you create your latest poem. Try to guess what is being said. It doesn't matter if you're wrong and the translation is false. That is all part of the fun and creativity of trying to create a poem out of a foreign language text. Language is language, and as we all know in poetry, words can be made to mean what we want them to mean. 

Method 7: Foreign End Rhymes

This is even stranger: Using the same kind of foreign language texts, look for words that appear to rhyme. Use them in your end rhymes in the poems you have already written. Replace the end rhymes you already used with the foreign end rhymes. It may not work, but have a go. You may create something unique and mysterious. It may start a whole new trend in poetry writing!

Have a go, try again, and then try again. The more you attempt these false translation techniques, the more they will begin to make some creative sense to you. 

Steve Wheeler

Image from Flickr used under a Creative Commons Licence

Previous posts in this series:

Experimental Poetry 1: Found Poetry
Experimental Poetry 2: Stream of Consciousness

Poetic devices 9: Enjambment

Enjambment .... it's a French word, right? Lots of poets have never heard of it. But we've all seen it. We just don't know the correct word to describe it. You know... that weird thing where a new sentence starts in the middle of a line... maybe even the last line of a stanza... and then carries on as if nothing has happened into the next stanza. 

Enjambment comes from the French verb enjamber which means to stride across, or to encroach upon. And that's exactly what happens. The half finished sentence rides across to be completed somewhere in the following line, couplet or stanza.

Enjambment presents readers with an unresolved, and hopefully intriguing sense. They feel compelled to read on to find out what happens next. Whilst a rhyme provides closure, enjambment delays it. We are continually seeking for resolution, meaning, closure; enjambment creates a tension that provokes us to read on. 

Enjambment can create a free-flowing poem that places emphasis on unexpected tempo or change of pace. It works with punctuation too. In It is a Beauteous Evening, Calm and Free, William Wordsworth places a semicolon in the middle of a line instead of at the end:

The holy time is quiet as a Nun
Breathless with adoration; the broad sun
Is sinking down in its tranquility;

It makes all the difference! Here, enjambment has been used to maintain the rhythm and flow of the poem, and also to preserve the integrity of the end rhyme scheme; Nun, sun.

Enjambment can also be used to build momentum in a poem, to provide some contrast or complexity, and playfully, to add some fun elements to the syntax of the lines. 

In the poem Endymion by John Keats enjambment is mixed with rhyme to create an illusion that there is closure after each couplet. But the thoughts keep coming, driving the reader on...

A thing of beauty is a joy for ever:
Its loveliness increases; it will never
Pass into nothingness; but still will keep
A bower quiet for us, and a sleep
Full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing.

I hope you can get to grips with this poetic device. It is remarkably adaptable and can take your writing to the next level. 

Steve Wheeler 

Previous posts in this series

1. Simile

2. Metaphor

3. Repetition and refrains

4. Alliteration

5. Assonance

6. End Rhymes

7. Internal Rhymes

8. Rhythm and Tempo

Image by Banalaties used with a Creative Commons Licence

Poetic devices 7: Internal rhymes

When I first started writing poetry, way back in my late teens, I wrote in a fairly simplistic style. I'll admit, most of my lines were written to be incorporated into rock songs as lyrics. But some of my verses stood alone as poems. I learnt to use end rhymes because that is often the way song lyrics are constructed. 

It was only much later in life that I unearthed internal rhymes. I discovered that can add another dimension to my poetry. They take a little more thinking than simply writing a poem with, say, ABAB end rhymes. Choice of words is important, but so too is attention to the sound of words or phrases. Poets can manipulate the pace and feel of poetry using internal rhymes.

This poem was written recently, and you'll see it exploits the idea behind internal rhymes. Line 7 in particular uses 3 rhymes (page, sage, age) in one line. It also uses another literary device known as enjambment, which will be the topic of another blog post.

Lines 3 and 4 weave in and out of two separate internal rhymes. It's a little more complex, but effective. Hopefully this creates a cool tempo and injects a little more interest into the composition:

All That Sin

Your grin will soon begin to thin
when all that sin is factored in.
Your smile will ail and guile will fail
when all your style begins to pale.
The arrogance of second chance
completes a dance of circumstance.
You close the page of sage; old age
departs the stage with silent rage.

It's not that difficult to master if you think about it. But word choice is vital. Think of phrases that also might rhyme inside a line. 

The poem Galoshes by Rhoda W. Bacmeister is very popular with school children. It's used to show them what can be achieved by using internal rhymes to create musicality and rhythm in poetry. It is also a useful example of onomatopoeia, alliteration, repetition and assonance - all in one poem!

Galoshes

Susie’s galoshes
Make splishes and sploshes
And slooshes and sloshes,
As Susie steps slowly
Along in the slush.
They stamp and they tramp
On the ice and concrete,
They get stuck in the muck and the mud;
But Susie likes much best to hear
The slippery slush
As it slooshes and sloshes,
And splishes and sploshes,
All round her galoshes!

There are more outrageous internal rhymes in poetry. You just have to look out for them. Or perhaps you can create your own? I will leave you with one more example from the absolute master of the internal rhyme - one of my favourites - the English spoken word artist Harry Baker. This is a verse from his poem Knees, taken from his Unashamed collection:

Knees

My knees make your knees 

weak at the knees.

For my knees your knees

get down on one knee.

They ask my knees to join your knees

in holy matrimo-knee.

My knees say wait and see.

My knees have been known to tease.

I love the multiple internal rhyming, and absoloutely adore the pun in line six! You can have a lot of fun with internal rhymes. Have a go!

Steve Wheeler

Image from OpenClipArt

Other posts in the Poetic Devices Series:

1. Simile

2. Metaphor

3. Repetition and refrains

4. Alliteration

5. Assonance

6. End Rhymes

Poetic devices 6: End rhymes

What was the first poem you ever read? Bet you can't remember. Neither can I. Chances are it would have included end rhymes. Nursery rhymes are for children and this is usually their first exposure. It will probably have included the simplest end rhyme scheme like this:

Baa baa black sheep
Have you any wool?
Yes sir, yes sir
Three bags full

Or maybe something a little more complex like an AABAAB end rhyme scheme:

Jack and Jill
went up the hill
to fetch a pail of water
Jack fell down
and broke his crown
and Jill came tumbling after

The Cow Jumped Over the Moon, Jack Spratt and several other well-known nursery rhymes feature the exact same format.

The end rhyme adds to the attraction of the verse, and helps us all to remember the story. Plenty of adult poetry is also composed of end rhymes, sometimes in a more complicated pattern such as a Villanelle, Limerick or Sonnet. And yet, when people first start out writing poetry for themselves, they usually default to ABAB rhyme schemes, often in the shape of a 4 line quatrain. 

There's nothing wrong with this of course. We all have to learn somehow. But it's no co-incidence that Artificial Intelligence (AI) tools such as ChatGPT also default to this same format when asked to write a poem. It's a telltale sign if you are trying to detect poetry generated by AI. 

Tyger, Tyger by the English poet William Blake is a classic example of an AABB end rhyme quatrain:

Tyger, Tyger burning bright
in the forests of the night;
what immortal hand or eye,
could frame thy fearful symmetry?

It's simple but incredibly effective in setting the scene for an atmospheric poem full of imagery. 

But here's a caveat - although end rhyme poetry is something just about every poet gravitates toward, it can also be a trap. Poets can spend hours agonising over how they are going to get their poetry to rhyme. Some end up sacrificing meaning and credibility by coming up with trite and banal end rhymes that detract from the beauty of the poem. 

You know what I'm talking about. It's a trap best avoided. If you are writing poetry with end rhymes, do make sure that the poem doesn't lose its sense or purpose because of a silly little end rhyme that matches sonically, but actually damages your poetry. 

Steve Wheeler

Image from Wikimedia Commons

Other posts in the Poetic Devices Series:

1. Simile

2. Metaphor

3. Repetition and refrains

4. Alliteration

5. Assonance

Poetic devices 5: Assonance

"What does assonance mean?" asks Frank Bryant, a professor of literature. "It means getting the rhyme wrong," he declares, before falling drunkenly off the stage, and crashing into his audience. 

The professor, played by Sir Michael Caine in the movie Educating Rita, takes a very jaded view of poetry. He's more interested in booze, and escaping from reality. Not unlike several well known, real-life poets...

But in one sense he's correct. 

Assonance isn't about end rhymes or 'getting the rhyme right.' It's about powerfully expressing ideas and emotion through the similar sounds made by adjacent words. The resemblance of vowel sounds is where the assonance occurs. If you use assonance effectively, it can change the tempo of your poetry or even intensify the mood you are trying to convey.

Here's a great example of assonance in the poem by Edgar Allen Poe called Bells:

Hear the mellow wedding bells

Golden bells!

What a world of happiness their harmony foretells!

Yes, Poe uses end rhymes too, but it's the assonance of mellow, wedding, bells, foretells that really makes the poem resonate. 

Another excellent example of assonance can be found in The Cold Wind Blows by Kerry Roper. This is a rich examples of internal rhymes too.

Who knows why the cold wind blows

Or where it goes or what it knows

It only flows in passionate throes

Until it finally slows and settles in repose

Want to make your poem memorable? What to step away from predictable rhymes?

Steve Wheeler

Image from Your Dictionary

Using the Triolet

What on earth is a triolet? Sounds a bit French yeah? Well, it is.... a bit French. But it's also a bit of other countries too, because although the poetry form originated in France, it has evolved and has been adapted so many times it's now positively cosmopolitan. 

A triolet is almost always a poem of eight lines - an octave if you will - but it can be seven or nine lines too. Take your pick. The distinctive feature of the triolet though, is its repetition of lines. Three in fact, hence the moniker.  I won't go into all the crappy details and boring technicalities of the triolet. Instead, I will give you an example from my own portfolio of poetry: Here's one of my triolets called Angels without Wings:

There in the depths of the eternal soul
There is a wondering beyond finite things
We ponder in our hearts a God-shaped hole
There in the depths of the eternal soul
We deeply yearn for something to console
And thus we fall as angels without wings
There in the depths of the eternal soul
There is a wondering beyond finite things

Steve Wheeler © 25 June, 2022

You can see that the first and second line are repeated in lines seven and eight. But the first line is also repeated before that, in line four. Lines 1, 3, 4, 5 and 7 have end rhymes, while 2, 6 and 8 also rhyme. And that's about it, apart from the rhythm of the lines, which can be in iambic pentameter (10 syllables) or just about any other iamb combination. 

So go forth and multiply - write your own triolet and share it here. I will be sure to comment on it.

Steve Wheeler

Image from Pixabay via a Creative Commons Licence