The fact that something is in a rhymed form or in blank verse

"The fact that something is in a rhymed form or in blank verse will not make it good poetry." These words from Robert Morgan carry a deep and profound truth about the nature of poetry—that the mere structure of verse does not guarantee its quality. In the ancient world, poets were revered not for the form they employed, but for the spirit that flowed through their words. The rhyme and meter were but tools, not the soul of the poem. Whether a poem is written in rhymed form or in the more modern blank verse, its worth is determined by something far more profound: its capacity to speak to the heart, to stir the soul, to reveal the deeper truths of the human condition.

Let us consider the great Homer, whose Iliad and Odyssey remain the crowning achievements of ancient literature. These epics, filled with heroes and gods, were not bound by rigid rhyme schemes or formal structures. They were, in fact, more often recited in dactylic hexameter, a rhythm more suited to oral performance than to the modern concept of poetry. But what makes these works endure through the millennia is not their form, but the depth of their themes—fate, honor, love, and war—the universal truths that touch every heart. The poem itself was alive, not simply because of its meter, but because of its power to speak to the core of what it means to be human.

Likewise, in the Renaissance, poets like Shakespeare and Milton wrote in blank verse, using the unrhymed iambic pentameter to give their poems grandeur and rhythm. Yet, it was not the form that made their works immortal, but their insight into the human soul. Shakespeare’s sonnets, for example, though filled with rhyme, are cherished not for the structure of the words, but for the emotion they convey, the timeless themes they touch upon, and the way they speak to us across centuries. Milton’s Paradise Lost, with its grand blank verse, is not loved because it follows a formal pattern, but because it reveals the struggle between good and evil, the fall of man, and the divine will. Their power lies not in the structure but in the truths they unveil.

The lesson here is critical: form does not define quality. A poem, like a great song, is not made beautiful simply because it adheres to a pattern or form. It is the emotion, the meaning, the depth of expression that gives it its true worth. To understand this, we must look at the soul of the poem—the intent behind the words. The words themselves are not enough; they must speak with a clarity of purpose, a passion that transcends the rules of structure. Think of the ancient oracles or the prophets whose words were not necessarily bound by any form, yet they carried a weight that could change the course of history. Their power came from within, from the truth they bore, not from the way they were said.

We must also turn our gaze inward. In our own creations, do we focus too much on the form, the external structure of what we produce? Do we sacrifice the soul of our art in favor of making it sound polished, neat, and “correct”? True art, true poetry, does not bow to rules for the sake of rules. It bows to the truth that rises from the heart. The power of a poet is not in their ability to follow tradition, but in their ability to reveal what is hidden beneath the surface, to open the eyes of the world to what they had never seen before.

The ancient Greeks had a saying: “Know thyself.” This wisdom, passed down through the ages, reminds us that true creativity is rooted in self-awareness, in the understanding that our art must speak from within. A poem that is heartfelt, that is born of the deepest truth of the poet’s soul, will stand the test of time, regardless of its structure. The test of true poetry is not how it sounds, but what it makes us feel, what it makes us understand about the world, about ourselves. It is this depth that gives it its eternal power.

So, the lesson we take from Robert Morgan’s words is this: do not be deceived by the external form of poetry. A poem is not made good by rhyme or meter alone. It is made good by its honesty, its truth, and its ability to touch the soul. Whether you write in rhyme or blank verse, whether you follow tradition or break every rule, let your poetry come from a place of deep truth. Only then will your words find their way into the hearts of others, and your poetry will live on for generations. Let us, then, write not for style, but for soul. Let us speak the truth with words, no matter how they fall on the page.