[Julie Steiner]

Okay, I'll play. Off the top of my head, here are six things I've learned the hard way about working with rhyme:


1. It is always, ALWAYS better to write a good poem than a mediocre poem.

Most "poetry rules" have exceptions. This one doesn't.

Not even for rhyme. See #2 below.


2. It is always, ALWAYS better to write a good free verse or blank verse poem than a mediocre rhymed poem.

Strangely, many people who wholeheartedly agree with #1 seem to have reservations about #2. The brutal truth is that you get no brownie points for rhyme, acrostics, or any other difficult feat, if these handicaps make your poem stink. And if the stinkiness is actually caused by the extra effort of achieving that rhyme, acrostic, or whatever, then why bother with something that is clearly doing your poem no favors? By all means, cast off those shackles and write a better poem.

Again, a good free verse or blank verse poem beats a mediocre rhymed one, EVERY SINGLE TIME.


3. Rhyme is less important than meter, mood, and syntax.

Bartering those three away to achieve rhyme is a bad bargain.


4. Rhyme is a tool designed for emphasis, and emphasis is what it will deliver, whether you want it to or not.

If a rhyming word doesn't contain an idea, image, or emotion worth emphasizing, don't end-stop that line. If you do, you'll only be emphasizing how weak that part of your poem really is.

Enjamb that line if the content is necessary; cut it if it's not.


5. Don't enjamb rhymed verse too much.

Judicious use of enjambment de-emphasizes some rhymed lines in order to lend emphasis to others. Enjambment can also be very effective for accelerating the tempo of a poem. Many people feel that, by downplaying the rhymes and eliminating pauses at line ends, enjambment makes rhymed verse feel more modern and natural.

But if almost every line is enjambed, why bother with rhyme at all?

Seriously, what is the point of using rhyme--a tool designed for emphasis (see #4)--if you're going to de-emphasize it most of the time? It's like using a chisel as a screwdriver, or vice versa: sure, it works, after a fashion, but it's unnecessarily awkward, and the finished product is likely to be less impressive than if you'd used the proper tool for the job all along.

And sometimes the proper tool for the job is, indeed, blank or free verse. See #1 and #2 above.


6. Never settle for the wrong word, just because it rhymes with the right word (or words). The poet's challenge is to get all of the words right.

Two thoughts on this:

First, thinking that the wrong word will be excused by the fact that it rhymes shows a failure to grasp #4 above. The wrongness of a wrong word is emphasized when it is in a rhyming position.

Second, behavioral scientists have long observed something called the Einstulling ("settling") effect: when most people are presented with a three-step solution to a problem, they "settle" for that method and stop looking for a two-step solution. The Einstulling effect goes beyond simple laziness: people become emotionally attached to that first solution, to the point that their problem-solving creativity becomes blocked by it. They are quick to conclude that problems that can't be solved by their beloved method can't be solved at all.

Likewise, it's tempting to fall in love with the first set of rhymes that seems promising, especially in multi-rhymed forms (e.g., Petrarchan sonnets and villanelles). And when we fall in love, we settle. We overlook, or even become defensive about, our beloved's shortcomings.

How many times have we heard, or said ourselves, something like "But I have to say 'micturition' there, because if I don't I'll have to change three other lines, too!" (Yep. Better get started.)

I find it useful to remind myself, even in the initial excitement of finding a set of rhyme words that (sort of) works, that there may be a more elegant solution out there--another set of rhyme words that works better. I try not to get too infatuated with and committed to a particular set before I've explored a few options.