[John Whitworth]

Well blow me down. If we don't come up with a bundle of winners here my name's not Lord Byron. Which it isn't. Did you know Byron used Walker's Rhyming Dictionary and endorsed it?


No. 2773: Rhyme time

You are invited to submit a poem entitled ‘On First Looking into a Rhyming Dictionary’ (16 lines maximum). Please email entries, wherever possible, to lucy@spectator.co.uk by midday on 14 November.

[Brian Allgar]

So many times, I struggled with the verse,
But somehow I could never find the rhymes;
I must admit there is no use pretending -
My lines all lacked a proper rhyming finish.

The words at their conclusion never matched
However hard my wretched head I rubbed,
And quatrain after quatrain fell apart
Because I hadn’t mastered rhyming skill.

But when I found this book, I was transfigured,
And those who read my verse no longer sniggered.
My mastery of rhyme became astounding,
And critics’ praise unstinted and resounding.

I felt like stout Cortez - I mean, Balboa -
Discovering Mexico - or was it Goa?
A realm of gold, this book, no doubt about it -
I don’t know how I ever did without it.

[John Whitworth]

Nice one Brian. It has the sheen of winning about it. Effortless.

[Jayne Osborn]

A quick, clever response, Brian. No less than we'd expect of you, of course!

But... as it purposely doesn't rhyme - at least until you wanted it to - why not avoid the inversion of "However hard my wretched head I rubbed", in favour of "However hard I rubbed my wretched head"?
(Though your poem is about the lack of finding suitable rhymes before using the dictionary, that's not the same as lacking general poetic skill.)

Jayne

[Brian Allgar]

Jayne, the point about the first two stanzas is that they could and should rhyme - it's just that the wrong, non-rhyming word has been used.

Here's how they should be:

I struggled with the verse so many times, (word order changed)
But somehow I could never find the rhymes;
I must admit there is no use pretending -
My lines all lacked a proper rhyming ending. (finish)

The words at their conclusion never matched
However hard my wretched head I scratched, (rubbed)
And quatrain after quatrain fell apart
Because I hadn’t mastered rhyming art. (skill)

So the inversion is an unfortunate necessity, otherwise the missing rhyme "scratched" would be in the wrong place. But I've got plenty of time to see if I can find a way to improve it ...

[Jayne Osborn]

Ah, I see what you mean, Brian.

Sorry, I missed the placing of 'scratched' at the end of the line. I thought the off-rhymes were just random, not having paid proper attention. Duh!

Your poem is similar to one I posted on Metrical last year, called Writer's Block:

They said to me, “Write something. Not in rhyme.”
Screw that, I thought, I haven’t got the ti inclination
to write in ‘free’; I always write rhymed verse.
This was anathema; there’s nothing wor more dreadful
than being forced to go against the grain.
It’s put me under quite a lot of strai pressure.
I told them I would have a go. (Some hope!)
I can’t think of a thing; I feel a do right fool.
It ought to be a simple thing to write
‘sans rhyme’. I stayed up half the bloody nigh way through the late film;
came up with no ideas at all. I guess
I’ve made a hash of it, a total mes muck-up.
I’ll stick to what I’m good at, from now on;
accept, at times like this, the Muse has g disappeared
but when it does return, I’ll try to plan
a poem in free verse which doesn’t sca have a decent metre.

Jayne

[Roger Slater]

I'd often said I'm sure that I'm
the kind who can, without help, rhyme,
and said I thought it was a crime
of poets who were worse than slime,
whose verses were not worth a dime,
to use a crutch to help them chime.
But one day, sipping gin and lime
in a sleezy bar in Anaheim
(where I had gone for sunny clime)
I met a most convincing mime
who showed me poets in their prime
use rhyming dictionaries all the time.

[Brian Allgar]

Most entertaining, Jayne! I love the crossings-out that signal what the rhyme should have been.

Unfortunately, I can't use that technique, so I just hope Lucy spots what's going on - I can hardly send her an accompanying footnote.

And I really can't see any way to avoid that inversion ...

[John Whitworth]

I don't think you need the crossings out, Jayne. People can see what you are doing. Very amusing. Dammit!

[John Whitworth]

And here I am again, pretending I'm Louis MacNeice.

On First Looking Into a Rhyming Dictionary

How many verses hide here hesitating
Waiting impatient for their day to dawn;
Some wandering poet discombobulating
Their desolating fate to die unborn.

For here those poems are; they crouch in posse,
Their glossy locks attendant to the breeze.
At ease they lie like dogs until their flossy,
Bossy masters call them where they please.

The poets listen to the rhymes a-rustling
And bustling out of sight and out of mind,
Resigned to wring a meaning from the muscling,
And tussling with the magic words they find.

The poets know their rhymes are granted gratis,
To satisfy an ear that seeks for sound
Abounding in an interlacing lattice,
For that is where true poetry is found.