On Rhyme

A writers' essay on rhyming in poetry. Discusses when and how to rhyme with lots of examples.

The modern 'ear' has changed a lot since Shakespeare's time. What once sounded fine, now, at best, sounds daggy and, at worst, sabotages your poem entirely. The noun, 'rhymer' (one who produces rhymes), has now become synonymous with 'mediocre poet'. Here I will discuss a few of the elements of rhyme, and then I will discuss how and when to rhyme effectively.

What is rhyme?

A rhyme is a type of echoing generated by placing two like sounds near each other in a poem. Normally, the sounds conclude a word and include the final consonant sounds. Often the echo occurs in the last syllables of two lines (an end rhyme), but rhyming can occur within a line (internal rhyme) and even, in very rare occasions, within words. Rhymes can be masculine (monosyllabic), feminine (disyllabic) or complex (trisyllabic or more). An example of each follows:

Masculine:
Head / Bread
Feminine:
Better / Fetta
Complex:
Tennessee / Hennessey

A rhyme of these sorts is not necessarily limited to syllables within one word. In the above example, 'Tennessee' could just as readily be rhymed with 'Then I see'. Also, the whole word need not be included in the rhyme. 'Suggest', still rhymes with 'Arbalest', although it is still masculine because only one syllable from each word is involved in the rhyme.

Other forms of rhyme (and rhyme-like tools) include: pararhyme, where the vowels do not have the same sound, but the consonants are identical (Sand / Sound); eye rhyme, where the words look like they should rhyme, but are pronounced differently (Bough / Cough); half rhyme, where the vowel and final consonant sounds are very similar, but not quite rhyming perfectly (Are / Air); trailing rhyme, where end rhymes are softened by adding an extra syllable after the rhyming syllable (we / meagre); assonance, where the vowel sounds echo one another but the consonant sounds do not (style / mine); and alliteration, where consonant sounds echo, but vowels sounds do not (Bell / Bull).

What can rhyming do for you?

Rhyme is a wholly satisfying way to make certain lines memorable for the reader because of its potential as a mnemonic device (it aids memory). How many of us can recall lines of Shakespeare's Sonnet 18, Andrew Marvell's To His Coy Mistress, or Robert Frost's The Road Not Taken? After only a few reads, the lines stick in the brain.

Rhyming also creates cognitive links between the two or more words you have chosen to rhyme. If I rhyme 'rhinoceros' and 'Thomas', I am tying Thomas to the image of a rhinoceros. Some wonderful comparisons can be generated through the creative use of this side-effect.

A good rhyme scheme can tie an otherwise fragmented and chaotic poem together. By continually drawing upon certain lines, the reader can see which parts of the poem are really important. This, partnered with a clever use of repetition, can be a vital aid.

When too much rhyme becomes too much

Rhyme is a very useful tool. The problems with rhyme are that, when used too often, it becomes a distraction. The rhymes are so powerful that they overshadow the actual content of the piece. The point where a rhyme scheme has overrun a poem is much more a matter of taste than it is of universal judgement, but I believe this problem can be controlled by intelligent manipulation. First, I would like to debunk a term which, out of laziness, I myself am guilty of using.

The term forced rhyme is often used to describe poetry where the rhyme scheme hasn't worked. It is a vague term which can only lead to misconceptions. While I believe that rhyme can feel forced, I don't believe that anyone actually forces a rhyme. Also, it is neither the manner in which the rhyme is used nor the words themselves that create problems. I believe that the term does nothing to help the poet being critiqued develop. I believe that it is better to refer to the problem in terms of the frequency of the rhyming, and the regularity.

I will begin with an example:

I am not yours.
We beat down doors,
and we follow
all we swallow.
and we feed on
more than a tonne
of the letters
from our betters.

This poem is written in dimeter with two feet (usually four syllables) per line. Rhyme schemes are easily expressed with a quasi-mathematical system where a letter equates to each vowel and consonant sound. For instance, the rhyme scheme used above is AA(masculine) BB(feminine) CC(masc.) DD(fem.). This is otherwise known as rhyming couplets. I also added the fact that the rhymes alternate between masculine and feminine.

In the above poem, if you do the maths, three eighths of the syllables are involved in a rhyme. It doesn't take much to realise that's a whole lot of rhyming. The effect of this is similar to the effect many of us would get from seeing our partners engaged in sex with nine different people each day. Like sex, rhyme is a wonderful thing if it is subtle and evenly spaced. If it is too overt, it merely cheapens the experience.

How to move away from regular, frequent rhyme

We need more space between rhymes, so it's time to spread the love. An example follows:

When we fell into that old place of yours—
the one with smashed windows, beaten down doors.
I needed a light so I could follow
you to the kitchen and see you swallow
your pride under odds I would not bet on.
You face an armada. A fearsome tonne
of fake voodoo dolls, and angry letters
from those who count none among their betters.

This is a step up from the previous poem. There is more space between the end-rhymes because it is written, instead, in pentameter, which means five feet (usually ten syllables) per line. It also proves that the words chosen for the rhyme are not the problem. Another way to soften end-rhymes is too have the lines run-on. This was also done in this piece.

However, the rhyming couplets are still very regular and therefore, predictable. It is better, then, to mix it up a bit. ABAB is better, but creating your own rhyme scheme would be better still (for instance, ABCA, or ABCDEE or any number of other combinations). Another idea would be to mix up the types of rhyme. It will help a lot to spread yourself across the full gamut of different methods, employing (end and internal) half-rhymes, assonance and alliteration wherever they're appropriate. An example of this follows:

Yet again, I'm virtually vegan and force fed
raw mince, live fish, and bloodied bacon fat.
A paste a carnivore could not explore,
and worse for one whose hunting days are done.
So close to death, I've a tweed hat, a cane,
an ill-shaped spine, a cut-throat hatred of youth,
and I'm many, many marbles short of a brain.

In this poem, there is plenty of variety. It may be slightly over-saturated with rhymes, but, again, that is a matter of judgement.

The poet should rhyme, not out of duty to the audience, but as a reward for them. Some of the best rhymes appear from nowhere in poems with no set rhyme scheme. In these cases, the authors are holding the rhymes back. They are saving them for the lines that they feel are really genuinely important. What this does is makes their presence seem that much more magical. Randall Jarrell claimed that he never looked for a rhyme. He used to just write and write. If a rhyme came to him while he was working, then it was included. If not, then it was never meant to be. It is a very strong example to follow.

As ever, all parts of this essay are negotiable, and I would love to hear your comments: tim@hypercritical.net