Reveries That I Call Poetry

As poets or creative writers in general, we often embrace constrained writing, with its self-imposed limits. While writing freedom is cherished (even considered paramount), constraints can spark creativity, whereas absolute freedom, without a critical intuition for what makes good writing—especially in poetry—can have the opposite effect.

To explore constrained writing, poets have developed various forms, like the nonet. Some forms are more justified than others (well-accepted by poets and readers of poetry), as certain structures may become too rigid, potentially suffocating emotion and meaning.

While constrained poetry often focuses on syllable count, word count can be an equally intriguing challenge. My poem ‘Ink Over Blood,’ the first I wrote seriously in English, plays with this concept. Here I transcribe it, but please follow the link and read it in its original post:

Ink Over Blood

Rain down the reign
Wash away royal blood
The old king’s dead
Long live, new king
Provided the kingdom remains

Gold rule, dark days,
Poet lies, folk sway.
Word wars, fake lore,
King dead, none lead.

See, these four-word verses
Like the four-letter words
Picture a wicked world;
Curse all the kings
For the poet’s takeover.
[The poet takes over.]

This poem remains a personal favorite of mine, as it represents a significant moment in my writing journey. But let’s return to the main point: demonstrating the challenges of constrained poetry, specifically the nonet—a form that, while deceptively simple, presents significant challenges.
This form highlights the tension between freedom and restraint, and I take avantage of the opportunity to raise a question about what truly makes good poetry. Is poetry, and creativity at large, ever truly free from constraints?

Hear me out, ‘mnot saying it out loud
I’d rather whisper it to you
It’s not a word for this crowd
Pack it up everyone
Go and have some fun
Oh, you’re still here
Expecting
Something
Big?

Some might see this arrangement as clever—I would not call it a solid poem—, but it’s important to acknowledge the difficulties presented by the form and this piece’s deficiencies. The nonet’s rigid structure often forces compromises, like breaking sentences unnaturally, especially if you’re unfamiliar with words (as concepts) that are succint and yet have multiple layers of meaning.

One thing I avoid is overly relying on enjambment and slicing up sentences just to fit a form, especially if it dilutes the message or meaning. I’ve seen the extreme of taking a particular common saying or any line of thought not inventive enough, slicing it into three or four verses and calling it a poem. More power to anyone who wants to venture into poetry, and make it more accessible as everyone starts somewhere—but let’s not level down what is [good] poetry.

The final four lines—’Oh, you’re still here / Expecting / Something / Big?’—only work in some way because the earlier lines establish a complete thought in a single verse, but it’s only natural to accomplish that more easily with more syllables or words (becoming significantly difficult as we limit the syllable count). Capitalizing the first letter of each verse also helps them stand alone, masking the form’s constraints and the challenges they present.

While poetry can at times thrive on the principle of ‘less is more,’ it’s crucial to find a balance. Overly constrained forms can limit expression just as much as excessive freedom can dilute meaning. The challenge is to navigate these extremes to create poetry that resonates.

Let me hear your thoughts.