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Notes -
Do you find that the rhyming in a poem makes the meaning of the idea more clear or less clear? To me, any rhyming seems to interfere with my immediate ability to grasp the meaning, so it’s worse at conveying meaning that non-rhyming poetry or prose.
For me it certainly depends on the rhyming. Most supposed "non-rhyming" poetry does have internal rhyme and slant rhyme.
One of my favorites from a few decades ago, note the rhyme, which is very easy to just miss:
The Beautiful Changes
One wading a Fall meadow finds on all sides
The Queen Anne’s Lace lying like lilies On water; it glides
So from the walker, it turns
Dry grass to a lake, as the slightest shade of you
Valleys my mind in fabulous blue Lucernes.
The beautiful changes as a forest is changed
By a chameleon’s tuning his skin to it;
As a mantis, arranged
On a green leaf, grows
Into it, makes the leaf leafier, and proves
Any greenness is deeper than anyone knows.
Your hands hold roses always in a way that says
They are not only yours; the beautiful changes
In such kind ways,
Wishing ever to sunder
Things and things’ selves for a second finding, to lose
For a moment all that it touches back to wonder.
--Richard Wilbur
Wilbur was poet laureate in 1987, and deservedly so. Many of them have boggled the mind, but Wilbur was solid. I saw him read once, back in the early 90's. I did not drink white wine but I did get drunk at the reception.
Anyway compare the rhyme there to a poem like this:
Phenomenal Woman
Pretty women wonder where my secret lies.
I'm not cute or built to suit a fashion model's size
But when I start to tell them,
They think I'm telling lies. I say,
It's in the reach of my arms
The span of my hips,
The stride of my step,
The curl of my lips.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.
I walk into a room
Just as cool as you please,
And to a man,
The fellows stand or
Fall down on their knees.
Then they swarm around me,
A hive of honey bees.
I say,
It's the fire in my eyes,
And the flash of my teeth,
The swing in my waist,
And the joy in my feet.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.
Men themselves have wondered
What they see in me.
They try so much
But they can't touch
My inner mystery.
When I try to show them
They say they still can't see.
I say,
It's in the arch of my back,
The sun of my smile,
The ride of my breasts,
The grace of my style.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.
Now you understand
Just why my head's not bowed.
I don't shout or jump about
Or have to talk real loud.
When you see me passing
It ought to make you proud.
I say,
It's in the click of my heels,
The bend of my hair,
the palm of my hand,
The need of my care,
'Cause I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.
--Maya Angelou
Angelou was never poet laureate, though she did PL things, like read at inaugurations. I thought her poetry was undergrad level tripe, though her book I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings is, from what I remember of it, very good. MY point is Angelou's rhyme here is clunky and obvious, and even in its clunky and obviousness, it is simplistic and dull. It makes me feel stupider by reading it. It's like a pop song on the page.
Worse, it's like bad rap music. The old hiphop head inside me went "whack" several times while reading, even before I knew what point you wanted to make.
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