Poetic License

Poetic wording is a delicate subject. Taking liberties with the rules of prose in poetry is generally referred to as poetic license. Traditionally speaking, the writer may take poetic license to rearrange the words in an understandable way, that also communicates the meaning. Poetic license allows the writer to paint a meter and a rhyme scheme as they desire without creating contrived rhymes or being backed into a metric corner. Contrived rhymes are rhymes that are forced, and may generally feel childish in nature. In order to not feel contrived, the rhyme must relate naturally within the surface context of the poem. Poetic license allows rhythms, syllables, and rhymes to find their best place within a line.

Rhyme

A contrived rhyme is a forced, bad rhyme. For example:

I have to pee,
if you agree,
to let me.
like a bee.

This is an exaggerated example, but the rhymes do feel very forced. The last rhyme itself comes out of nowhere. How do you pee like a bee? I am certain that if someone had seriously written that, it was for no other reason than that "bee" rhymed with everything else. This is the contrived, bad rhyme.


For a good example, lets look at the poetic license that gets taken with the following passage of prose:

"I think I know who's woods these are. Though his house is in the village. He will not see me stopping here, to watch his woods fill up with snow.  My little horse must think it's queer to stop between the woods and the lake on the darkest night of the year, far away from any farmhouses. He shakes his harness bells to ask if I've made some mistake. The only sound's the sweep of the easy wind and the downy flakes. The woods are lovely, dark and deep, but I've got to keep my promises, and I've got to go miles before I can sleep."

It feels jagged, and only slightly poetic. Lets see what the great Robert Frost does to it by taking poetic license.

"Stopping by the Woods on a Snowy Evening."

Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.


Notice how some phrases stay as they'd be worded in prose. Some prose has natural poetic meter, and is fine as it is to be merged and flow together with poetry. However, other phrases get reworded in such a way that would be too poetic to read in prose

Also notice how none of Frost's rhymes feel jammed in just to create a rhyme scheme. Each word would appear in the story or fits in perfectly well. These are natural rhymes, and to create the rhyme at the end of each line, Frost tactfully rearranges the syllables so that they may reach their full effect at the end of the lines.

Rhythm

Poetic license is the bread and butter of any poet. It allows the stressed and unstressed syllables to more easily fall into place. Another of the greats, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow demonstrates the masterful use of this in his poem, "Hymn to the Night."

"Hymn To The Night

I heard the trailing garments of the Night
        Sweep through her marble halls!
I saw her sable skirts all fringed with light
        From celestial walls!

I felt her presence, by it's spell of might
        Stop over me from above:
The calm, majestic presence of the Night,
        As of the one I love.

I heard the sounds of sorrow and delight,
        The manifold, soft chimes,
That fill the haunted chambers of the Night
        Like some old poet's rhymes.

From the cool cisterns of the midnight air
        My spirit drank repose;
The fountain of perpetual peace flows there,-
        From those deep cisterns flows.

O holy Night! from thee I learn to bear
        What man has borne before!
Thou layest thy finger on the lips of Care
        And they complain no more.

Peace! Peace! Orestes-like I breath
        this prayer!
        Descend with broad-winged flight,
The welcome, the thrice-prayed for, the
        most fair,
        The best-beloved Night!"

Longfellow weaves his meter with the addition of slight filler words such as "all" in the third line. These words add little to the actual meaning at most times, but they fill a space that would otherwise take too much effort to fill. He took his words and arranged them in the appropriate rhythm, and he smoothed over the gaps with the filler words. These words tend to go unnoticed unless they fall at the end of a line such as "the" in the last stanza, where it stands in a noticeable spot. The filler words allow for the rhythm to go unbroken.

Longfellow also toys with indents. This is a free tool to any poet. He emphasizes the shorter lines with space so that they may be distinguished and not blur into the big.

Each liberty that Longfellow takes allows him to achieve the task of a poet: Creating with word associations, sounds, rhyme, rhythm, and emphasis.

The license of a poet is to take what is available and to create with it.