We get so bogged down by ‘It has always been done this way’, that our own creativity suffers in the long run. However, there are valid arguments for keeping it real and honouring tried and tested formats – poetry is no exception. In the latter category, we would recognise the pillars that support sonnets, haiku, jueju, etc. But what about poetry based on oral traditions such as sijo and Limericks?
There seems to be a couple of sacred cows, but others which are fair game:
Palindrome → Specular poem → Specular Fugue poem
Sonnets & Alexandrine → Suzette sonnet (SUZNET)
Free verse & Syllabic Verse → Suzette Prime
Free verse → Metamodernism → Oscillation & Open form → Suzette Swan Arc
Haibun & Tanka Prose → Prosimetrum → Excire
East meets West poetry → The Pirouette
When is it a new poetic form or just a variant of the original? Good question if the list of Experimental Poetry Forms under the Forum section is anything to go by. I posit that a failed haiku is just that – and not a senryû; a failed Suzette Prime is exactly that, etc. They are not ‘new poetic forms’ or ‘experimental forms’. A Limerick, on the other hand, can be anything it wishes to be – anything goes as long as the rhyme scheme is being adhered to. See my article, published at PoetrySoup, ‘The Limerick Punchline’, dated 26/2/2025:
The Limerick Punchline | PoetrySoup.com
Picture accompanying my Limerick: No - Scared (poetrysoup.com)
It warrants to be called a new poetic form when:
- Structural Innovation Is Intentional – The form introduces a deliberate and repeatable that is not merely a deviation or error from an existing one. It must have its own internal logic, rhythm, or architecture that distinguishes it from predecessors.
- It Can Be Replicated – A single poem may be experimental, but a form becomes legitimate when others can write within it. If it inspires a body of work or a community of poets who adopt and adapt it, it transcends novelty.
- It Has Definable Rules (Even If Flexible) – Whether strict like a villanelle or loose like free verse, a new form should offer a framework—guidelines that shape its identity. These rules may evolve, but they must be identifiable.
- It Offers a Unique Aesthetic or Philosophical Lens – A new form should do more than rearrange syllables. It should offer a fresh way of seeing, expressing, or experiencing language. Think of how blackout poetry reframes text, or how the Golden Shovel pays homage while creating something new.
- It Challenges or Expands Poetic Norms – The form should push boundaries—whether in content, structure, or delivery. It might incorporate multimedia, performance, or digital elements, but it must still be rooted in poetic intent.
- It Gains Recognition Beyond Its Creator – A form is not truly born until it lives outside the poet who conceived it. When others name it, teach it, critique it, and evolve it, it enters the poetic canon—however niche that canon may be.
So, when someone claims to have invented a new form, the question isn’t ‘Is it different?’ but ‘Is it definable, repeatable, and meaningful?’ Otherwise, we risk mistaking poetic accidents for poetic innovation. Let’s not confuse poetic innovation with poetic oversight. This isn’t about spelling errors dressed up as avant-garde. After all, if you live in a glass house, don’t invite the dictionary in for tea.
Photographer unknown.
Conclusion
So, what makes a poet truly innovative? Not the accidental misstep, nor the recycled structure with a new name. Innovation in poetry is intentional, replicable, and transformative. It’s the poet who dares to fly above convention—not to escape critique, but to transcend it.
Like the eagle harassed by crows, the innovative poet doesn’t waste time swatting at every peck of doubt or tradition. Instead, they rise—into thinner air, into clearer vision, into poetic altitudes where imitation cannot follow.
Take wing!
Su