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Rhyme has been called the "crown" of comic poetry.
Richard Armour, one of the 20th century’s funniest poets, wrote that "clever, unanticipated, humorous rhymes, worked
naturally into the sequence of thought, can do wonders for a piece of light verse."
Types of Rhyme
Full (a.k.a. Exact): Rhymes of syllables that start with different letters, but sound the same after that
(king/string; horse/course). One of the syllables may start with a vowel, or even consist of a
single vowel, as in out/bout and I/buy.
Near (a.k.a. Slant, Oblique, Off, Partial): Rhymes in which the correspondence of syllables is incomplete. In consonantal
rhymes, final consonant sounds correspond and final vowel sounds don’t (shell/hill;
maize/fez). In assonantal
rhymes, final vowel sounds correspond and final consonant sounds don’t (truck/mutt;
hate/debase).
Masculine:
Rhymes of single, accented syllables (boot/hirsute;
aerodrome/shalom; all/cholesterol—Calvin Trillin).
Feminine:
Rhymes that last for two syllables, in which the first syllable is stressed
(kiddo/widow; defiance/science; jelly/Martinelli—Joseph
S. Newman).
Triple, quadruple, and beyond: Rhymes of more than two syllables. (Meridian/Gideon;
omnivorously/vociverously—Ogden
Nash)
Mosaic:
Feminine or triple rhymes in which at least part of the rhyme consists of
combined words (humor/sou more; hair with/wear with; heaven, you/Revenue—Phyllis McGinley).
Head Rhyme: Rhymes at the beginnings of lines (Manic
on Wednesday/Panic on Thursday—Martin Bell)
End Rhyme: Rhymes at the ends of lines ("Unfailingly my photograph/Is one at which observers laugh"—Richard Armour)
Interior Rhyme: Rhymes of a syllable in the middle of one line and a syllable at the end of another; or between two syllables in
the same line. (The Slithergadee has crawled out of the sea—Shel
Silverstein)
Wrenched Rhyme: Rhymes that depend on distorted spelling or pronunciation (Lennox/calisthenox; ulcer/Tulsa;
vicissitudes/eccentricitudes—Ogden Nash)
Evaluating Rhyme
What makes a comic rhyme work? For the most part, the same elements that make any rhyme work.
Prosody manuals are full of admonitions against rhymes that seem
hackneyed or predictable (June/moon, trees/breeze, poet/know it). Variety in rhyme is also key. Poet
Timothy Steele, in All the Fun's in How You Say a Thing, writes: "Since rhymes please most when the words involved
make unexpected yet persuasive connections between ideas, objects, and qualities, good rhymers often match different grammatical
categories—nouns with verbs, verbs with adjectives, adverbs with nouns, and so forth."
Other thoughts from mavens of rhyme:
• Rhymes—even when surprising—should
seem logical in the context of a poem, rather than random or desperate.
• Word order is crucial to rhyme.
Sometimes the more-contrived word or combination in a rhyming pair
belongs first, as in Armour’s glamour
a/camera or McGinley’s assail her/Lord & Taylor. This makes
the rhyme seem less forced. On
the other hand, consider Byron’s famed intellectual/henpeck’d
you all or Oliver Wendell
Holmes’s mahogany/jog any. If
such rhymes were reversed, with the mosaic combo coming first, it would
"give the reader the answer before the question, and … let him down
rather than lift him up," wrote Armour in Writing
Light Verse and Prose Humor.
• When words with different numbers of
syllables are rhymed—use/papoose; mope/cantaloupe—it adds aural and
visual spice.
• Rhyming pairs should carry thematic or
emotional weight in the poem. "The more this strategy is adopted, the more
powerful the rhymes’ effect will be," writes poet Dick Davis. "The less it is observed, the more the rhyme will seem
incidental, tagged on, an awkward afterthought, or simply a place to display
incompetence. For this reason,
nouns and verbs usually make the most effective rhymes."
• Poets rhyme too often on the "ee"
sound, which Davis calls "the easiest sound to rhyme on in English."
• Unless a poem is the work of Ogden
Nash, it’s rarely improved by wrenched rhyme. "One is not likely to
achieve [Nash’s] special blend of freewheeling thought and uninhibited
expression—which takes more talent and craftsmanship than at first
appears," Armour wrote. "And
what if one should? It would
almost certainly mean being branded an imitator."
• Rhymes
shouldn’t rely on skewed syntax. "In my opinion, inverting natural word order to achieve a rhyme is the most
common offense," writes poet Bob McKenty in his newsletter Lighten
Up! He illustrates that
point in a poem titled "Avoid
Inversions in Your Verse":
Avoid inversions in your verse;
Of novice poets they’re the curse.
For rhymes their souls they would
exchange,
Word order freely rearrange
Their rhyming to accommodate
Like early English poets great.
They’ll gladly place (to grammar blind)
An adjective its noun behind,
Or (pity patient Listener)
A verb till sentence end defer
Like Latin scholars full of scit.
But that’s for muse museums. It
Diminishes the poet’s art
To place before the horse the cart.
•
Words with varied spellings, such as
ease/sneeze and whale/grail, tend to please the reader.
But homophones like pair/pear and chute/shoot, which offer no
interest to the ear, do not.
•
Full rhymes are best. "Serious poets," wrote Armour, can get away with eye
rhymes—words that look alike but sound different, such as love/prove and
war/star. They can use near
rhyme. "But light verse,"
he went on, "unsupported by high thought and strong emotion, cannot afford
such approximate and partial rhyming. The
average reader wants and expects, in light verse, rhymes that are accurate
and complete." Critics may
disagree with Armour’s claim that comic poetry can’t be based on high
thought or strong emotion. (A
thorough reading of, say, Dorothy Parker or Wendy Cope certainly suggests
that it can.) Still, it’s
true that light-verse writers tend to prefer full rhymes.
•
The "rules" of rhyme are made to be
broken—especially in light verse. For
instance, as Davis points out, "rhyming on semantically trivial words,
especially with lots of run-on lines, can give an impression of garrulity,
or of a kind of throwaway insouciance."
And as Lewis Turco notes in The
New Book of Forms, "It is possible for trite rhymes to be used in
original and interesting ways."
For information scattered throughout
this page, many thanks go to Timothy Steele and his excellent prosody book
All The Fun’s in How You Say a Thing.
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