Uncommon Poetry Forms for Trying When You Want Something Different
Uncommon Poetry Forms to Explore
Like many creative people, I have a bookshelf overflowing with books. Too many. They threaten the foundation and make a bit of a clutter. So, this weekend, I am reluctantly starting to winnow my selection. They are like my children, but there are just too many of them. With the space, I have made a section on my shelving just for poetry books, and this has given me the inspiration for my little blog of the week
I have about fifty of them sitting there. They made the cut to keep because there is something about poetry that encapsulates life even more than prose. Good prose can be as powerful as good poetry, but good poetry can be the beat that is the same as a heartbeat. It is alive in a way that is almost elemental. Bad poetry, of course, can be draining.
One of my favorite books is The Making of a Poem: A Norton Anthology of Poetic Forms by Mark Strand and Eavan Boland. I like it because it defines a range of poetic forms, explains them, and then gives examples. This is different from most books on poetry, which are either organized by time period or by writer. I am also picking through Lewis Turco’s The Book of Forms: A Handbook of Poetics, which is a more exhaustive list of forms and is considered a classic in the field.
So if you want to wander about the philosophy of form, pick up a copy of either book. They are good for inspiration and new directions in writing. The forms below range from sonnets to modern experiments. Some are esoteric, others elegantly challenging, harking to vintage styles. Pick one that piques your curiosity and give it a try.
The philosophy of form is something that reveals itself as you read through the forms themselves, so let’s start here with a brief list of off-the-beaten-path, uncommon poem forms.
Classic Forms of Repetition
Villanelle. This one’s famous thanks to Dylan Thomas’s “Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night.” It has 19 lines with just two rhymes, and two lines keep repeating throughout the poem in a specific pattern. The repetition creates a beat that circles, perfect for poems about love, loss, or anything you can’t stop thinking about. If you want to play with the lines, I built a Villanelle tool for that.
Pantoum. Picture this: you write a four-line stanza, then the second and fourth lines become the first and third lines of your next stanza. Keep going, and you get an echo effect, like memories that keep circling back. It has a similar feel to the villanelle.
Sestina. If you like villanelles and pantoums, you will like sestinas. Six stanzas, six lines each, plus a three-line wrap-up. The same six words end every line throughout the whole poem, just in different orders.
Ghazal. Originating in Arabic poetry, these are like a string of pearls. Each couplet is complete on its own, but they all work together. Usually about love or loss, and they often end with the poet’s name. Very elegant, very dramatic.
Rondeau. This French form has a chorus, a mixed form of lyric and song. Only 15 lines, so the repetition is tightly controlled.
Fun and Quirky Forms
Concrete Poetry. Your poem’s shape matters as much as the words. Write a poem about a tree that looks like a tree, or make your love poem into a heart shape. Kids love these, but serious poets do amazing things with them too. They make a wonderful hybrid of art and poetry.
Acrostic. Remember these from elementary school? The first letters of each line spell out a word. Grown-up acrostics can be subtle and sophisticated, where the reader might not even notice the hidden word at first. They are controlled in a way that dictates thought, and in that space, an almost Zen emerges.
Cinquain. Just five lines with a syllable pattern that goes 2-4-6-8-2. It makes a little diamond shape and forces you to be precise with your words. Great for capturing a single moment or feeling.
Tanka. Like haiku’s slightly chattier, more verbose cousin. Five lines: 5-7-5-7-7 syllables. The extra two lines often add emotion or reflection to the nature image. Very popular in Japan, where poets have long played with short syllabic forms.
Blackout Poetry. Take a newspaper or old book and black out most of the words, leaving just enough to make a new poem. It is a treasure hunt. You never know what gems you’ll find hiding in someone else’s text.
Repetition for the Brave and Ambitious
Triolet. Eight lines, but some of them repeat in a specific pattern. French poets used these for light, musical effects. Perfect for flirty or playful poems.
Double Sestina. For people who think regular sestinas are too easy. Don’t attempt this unless you’ve mastered the regular version and have way too much time on your hands. Personally, a bit much for me.
Kyrielle. Each stanza ends with the exact same line, and the repeated line has to make sense in every context. Trickier than it looks.
Tritina. Think of this as “sestina lite.” Only three end-words rotating through three stanzas, plus a one-line finish. Tight to write and sparse.
Ancient and Worldly
Sapphic Stanzas. Named after Sappho, the ancient Greek poet who knew a thing or two about love poetry. Four lines per stanza with a very specific rhythm: three long lines and one short, snappy one.
Terza Rima. Dante used this for his trip through hell, purgatory, and paradise. Three-line stanzas with connecting rhymes that pull you forward through the poem. Great for storytelling.
Renga. This is social poetry. Japanese poets would sit together and take turns adding stanzas, creating long collaborative poems. Each poet would try to surprise and delight the others.
Ode. The grand, formal poem for when you really want to celebrate something. Think “Ode to a Nightingale” or “Ode to Joy.” Not bound by strict rules, but definitely meant to be impressive.
How to Tackle a New Form
Start by reading examples, lots of them. You need to get the rhythm and feel in your head before you try writing your own.
Don’t worry about being brilliant on your first try. Most of these forms are hard. Focus on getting the structure right first, then polish the language later.
Pick subjects that fit the form. Villanelles are great for rounds, concrete poems work well with visual subjects, and limericks demand silly topics.
Even famous poets sometimes struggle with formal constraints. The challenge is part of the fun.
Why Bother with All These Rules?
Here is the most important thing about uncommon poetry forms and globally the concept of poetry rules: they are not rigid in the true sense. They are trampolines to your artistic freedom. Limitations force you into writing things you’d never have thought of otherwise. Plus, there is something satisfying about solving a puzzle of words.
Each form has its own personality and works best for different kinds of subjects and moods. Once you’ve tried a few, you’ll start to sense which form fits your next poem.
So pick one that sounds intriguing and give it a shot. The worst that can happen is you write a bad poem, and even bad poems are worth something. The best that can happen? You discover a new favorite way to play with words and grow as a writer.
If you want a primer on the more common forms first, the Understanding Poetry Forms guide covers the basics.