The most unexpected response to my poetry since sharing it with the wider world has been the negativity some have shown towards the use of rhyme.

Ask the lay person with no interest in poetry to describe poetry, or even compose some, and almost all will at least touch upon rhyme. I dare say almost all will fall upon it as its chief device. I think that herein lays the problem. There’s no wide ranging arbiter of success for the aspiring poet. Either you have been published and are a ‘proper’ poet; or you have not and have nothing to distinguish oneself from the label ‘amateur poet’, something seemingly akin to having leprosy.

So what’s so great about rhyme?

Well… firstly, it acts as a great mnemonic device, especially within the oral tradition of storytelling. You could say that using rhyme was paramount to being successful before the age of the printing press. Your creation would reach a larger audience if it contained strong rhymes to help it be remembered.

You find this in the modern era with popular music. To be anthemic, lyrics tend to have strong and simple rhyme structures. For the crowd to sing together, everyone must be confident with the words. Rhyme goes a long way to help people quickly pick up the lyrics and join in.

Music is also a culprit. Since the advent of popular music and its commercial and social need to be catchy, the use of rhyme has been hijacked by the form to such an extent that poetry has felt the need to distance itself. Or should I say, elevate itself. Such condescension towards lyrics as a worthy literary field is what led to it taking so long for a musician to be recognised by the Nobel jury. When you evaluate, however, the impact, consumption and permeation of lyrics within world culture such snootiness seems farcical.

I obviously don’t claim to speak for everyone. Some may not even be conscious of it. But a lot of poet snobbery goes around and the use of rhyme is a frequent punch bag. I think this snobbery is a way of installing a few rungs to the bottom of the ladder, something by which you can distinguish the talentless amateur from the commendable one. It simply reflects the vogue of the generation. There was a post-war backlash against rhetoric that powered a widespread acceptance of naturalism. The language of this poetry strives to be accessible and everyday, but the weight of those words are heavy with intellectual ambition.

I find this attitude pig-headed and, to be honest, anti-poetic. The attraction of poetry for me is the freedom. I delight in poetic licence (most of the time!). Quite often, the poet undertakes a balancing act between content and style; between meaning and effect. What goes as being fashionable in poetry has often swung from one side of this spectrum to the other. It would be foolish, however, to think there is any kind of hierarchy.

The chief reason why I defend and personally employ rhyme also has a connection to music. There is something inherently beautiful in the pattern of music. Our brains recognise the intrinsic necessity of of tonal completion. I think the same applies to rhyme. If all the chief parts of verse can come together (voice, melody, rhythm, subject) and for the whole to be related to the audience with a sonorous logic, the effect can be far greater than without. The majority of poems one would call beautiful have a rhyming scheme.

This isn’t to say that I think every poem would be better for employing rhyme. I don’t. I would hark back to the spectrum I mentioned. You have to choose something between ultimate meaning and ultimate effect, between complete clarity and complete rhetoric, as to what serves your purpose best. There are times when rhetorical devices would spoil the overall aim. A friend of mine wrote a series of poems on his treatment for cancer. The strongest effect for this subject is the stark truth. The use of rhetoric would undermine the cause and not respect the emotive strength of the experience. His matter-of-fact style resulted in what I treasure most from his body of work.

Anyway, rhyme is currently having a bit of a renaissance, driven mainly by what people like to label 'performance' or 'slam' poetry. I expect (and hope) for that to filter through in time, while I continue to be an ambassador of rhyme.

This month's favourites:
   Angaleena Presley, Wrangled
   Françoise Sagan, Bonjour Tristesse
   The Third Man (1949)