As I wrote down the rules for a sestina in the last couple of posts, I have to confess that the question “why bother?” went through my head with the regularity of the six repeating “end words” of that form.
Why bother writing formal poetry? (Much less blogging about it?)
Seriously, isn’t poetry supposed to be about free expression?
So why bother with all the restraints and requirements of a poetic form? Why not just write free verse all the time?
Ten reasons:
1. Writing formal poetry limits your choices. (If your form requires rhymes, you are limited to words that rhyme.) This is a big help if you don’t know exactly what you want to say (and if it doesn’t involve oranges.)
2. Writing formal poetry defines your choices (i.e. once you decide to write a villanelle, you know your poem will have two repeating lines that have to work as a couplet at some point, and will probably not end in “orange”.)
3. Writing formal poetry terminates your choices. (If you write a sonnet, you’ll be done by line fourteen.)
4. Poetic forms provide inherent music and, if you can manage it, rhythm. This is great if you don’t have a good ear; even greater, if you do.
5. Sometimes the music of a poetic form, and the cleverness of its dance, can substitute for profundity (which is wonderful if you never found out what exactly you wanted to say.)
6. Writing formal poetry is fun; there is a game-like quality to it. (It has rules!)
7. Even failing at the chosen form makes you more conscious of language, and, it is to be hoped, a more musical and adventurous writer. (Oh Orange!)
8. Even bare success at the chosen form puts you in the company of some of the greatest poets of all time. You, like Shakespeare, will have written a sonnet; like Dylan Thomas, a villanelle; like Elizabeth Bishop, a sestina. This sense of camaraderie, and the understanding that arises from even a brief turn in the trenches of prosody, will make you a more appreciative and attentive reader.
9. Finally, it must be understood, and grudgingly accepted, that a good sonnet, sestina, villanelle or pantoum is not good because it follows the rules, but because it’s a good poem. That said, it’s hard to write a good poem. Maybe you don’t have it in you one day, maybe not any day. However, if you follow the rules, which can be done by simple diligence (if not always inspiration), you can write what qualifies as a sonnet, or one of the other forms. You may not have achieved a good poem, but you will have achieved a sonnet, a sestina, villanelle or pantoum, which itself deserves a modicum of pride.
10. “Orange” is supposed to be one of the few words that, allegedly, has no perfect rhyme in English. But it works just fine in a sestina (or mid-line.) And, if you do manage to rhyme it, well….
If you prefer counting elephants to counting syllables, check out 1 Mississippi by Karin Gustafson at link above.
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