Breaking the Form: The Evolution of Free Verse - Devon Webb

Traditionally defined by the specific use of techniques such as rhyme & metre, poetry has since transcended any such textbook characterisations. The past century has seen an evolution of poetry form, in which the rules are not broken so much as done away with entirely. It is this loosening of structural dictations that has seen both hybridisation and invention of style, and ushered in a new era of poetic freedom, playfulness, & accessibility.

The poetry of historical times was distinct from other genres such as prose, with differing contexts & technical requirements. For example, the sonnets of Shakespeare were fourteen lines of iambic pentameter, the ballads used to convey epic tales had quatrains of a repeated abab rhyme scheme, and the Japanese haiku consisted of three lines of five, seven, & five syllables respectively. These traditions carried on through the Romantic era & well into the 20th century, with outliers like Walt Whitman paving the way for what was to come.

Whitman, one of America’s most influential poets, is widely considered the ‘father’ of free verse. He broke away from the limitations of traditional poetic form as far back as the 1800s, abandoning rhyme & metre for the sprawling, stream-of-consciousness flow of a more colloquial style. Free verse, harkening to the freedom & liberation Whitman preached in his life & work, is defined by a certain lack of definition, an openness that abandons structural consistency in favour of a more natural form of lyric & storytelling, in order to authentically reflect the rhythms of the human voice.
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Stop this day and night with me and you shall possess the origin of all poems
You shall possess the good of the earth and sun, (there are millions of suns left,)
You shall no longer take things at second or third hand, nor look through the eyes of the dead, nor feed on the spectres in books,
You shall not look through my eyes either, nor take things from me,
You shall listen to all sides and filter them from your self.
​(Walt Whitman, from “Song of Myself” [1892 version])

​While Whitman didn’t quite attain his now-legendary status during his lifetime—widely regarded by critics as ‘indecent’ & ‘trashy’, as much because of his homosexuality & themes of free love as his abandonment of institutional boundaries—he inspired a literary revolution among those who were frustrated with the same establishment that had denounced him. Most prominent of these was the Beat Generation, led by Allen Ginsberg, which popularised free verse during the mid-20th century.
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I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked,
dragging themselves through the negro streets at dawn looking for an angry fix,
angelheaded hipsters burning for the ancient heavenly connection to the starry dynamo in the machinery of night…
​(Allen Ginsberg, from “Howl”)

Ginsberg transformed the scene overnight with his 1955 debut performance of his epic poem Howl in a San Francisco café, echoing the style of Whitman. But it’s my belief that both the free verse style of the Beat poets & their impact on the genre is inseparable from their passionate anti-establishment attitudes. The Beats broke poetic form not just for stylistic freedom but for spiritual freedom—they tore apart the literary status quo out of a rage against everything predictable, dreary, & impassionate. This was an act that had worldwide cultural reverberations within the post-war disenfranchised youth who were looking for something fresh, something new, to embody their vision of a new world.

Perhaps it’s no surprise, then, that this mass exodus from poetic traditions has had an evident impact on both the genre and institution today. While the use of recurring rhyme & metre is still common, particularly among older writers, the industry is widely flooded with free verse & hybrid styles, as well as the creative use of formatting to play with visual shape. Some traditionalists may feel that the definition of poetry has been watered down, with not much distinguishing it from prose, but I would suggest this blurring of lines is exactly what makes the genre so exciting. What is it that makes a poem a poem—enjambment? Brevity? Or is it perhaps an inherent rhythm & musicality, a malleability & concise manipulation of language to capture not just an image but a certain aura & feeling?

I think the simplest definition of what makes a poem a poem is whether the writer refers to it as such. This merging of boundaries does the opposite of entrapping artists in the confines of rules & requirements, it liberates them by giving them authority over their own work, the ability to categorise it as they see fit or do away with such labels altogether. My favourite recent example of this is when a woman on Twitter tried to claim that black-out poetry (the form of erasing fragments of a preexisting text to create a new one) wasn’t poetry so much as plagiarism & unoriginality, & a plethora of retweets debunked her point by making some frankly profound black-out poems from the tweet itself.

​This fluidity of form has only been amplified in the modern digital age. Social media has seen a rise in the aptly named ‘instapoetry’, which simultaneously refers to the app which popularised it & the instancy with which it’s able to be shared & received by audiences. Gone are the days when poetry could only be distributed by publication acceptances & the lengthy process which follows, or with the monetary requirements of self-publishing. Instead, online tools & social media platforms are at our disposal, leading to the meteoric rise of such poets as Rupi Kaur, whose simplistic style & recognisable aesthetic have since led to her outselling Homer.
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you treat them as if
they have a heart like yours
but not everyone can be
as soft and as tender as you
you don’t see
the person they are
you see the person
they have the potential to be
you give and give till
they have taken everything
out of you and leave
you empty
​(Rupi Kaur, from “you treat them as if”)

Many critics & poetry enthusiasts alike may have reason to dislike Kaur’s ‘basic’ wordsmithing, but the fact is that there’s a reason for her colossal commercial success, & I believe that lies within her accessibility. The concise nature of her poems & their presentation, often under ten lines & fitting into a single image with a preference for conversational ‘everyday’ language, has opened the door of poetic appreciation for even the least literary-inclined minds. This perfectly reflects the impact of instapoetry as a whole, which now encompasses several apps & visual styles: no longer is poetry kept behind the closed door of the industry & institution, but can be found at the very fingertips of not only those who actively search for it, but also those to whom the algorithm lends its discovery.

The ease of engaging audiences via social media may have declined in recent years due to the incessant monetisation of these platforms, but its effect on increasing interest in poetry & liberating it from the constraints of an inaccessible institution has been undeniable. & while visual forms such as instapoetry may encourage experimentation with enjambment & formatting, spoken forms highlight the craft of rhythm & musicality.

​Rap, standing for ‘rhythm & poetry’ & pioneered by POC communities in the late 20th century, was hugely influential in making poetry more accessible by combining it with music, & has a strong correlation with anti-establishment attitudes. Slam is another medium of spoken poetry with roots in politics & activism—originating in the 1980s, it stemmed from a frustration with the lack of passion in traditional readings, & is defined as ‘a space in which poets are able to celebrate the parts of themselves that hegemonic power structures seek to silence, repress or discriminate against’. Often rejected as ‘serious poetry’ by the institution, I believe the beauty of Slam lies in its community-orientated nature, prioritising inclusion over the unspoken hierarchies often prevalent in the world of ‘real literature’. Slam uplifts such things as rage & the general messiness of the emotional spectrum, & is a welcoming environment for amateur artists who often struggle to get a foot in the door of the traditional poetry industry. Due to its spoken nature, its assessment of quality within a competitive context not only considers such things as language & imagery but also rhythm, performative delivery, & engagement with the audience—the latter being one of the most rewarding & unique things about this inherently anti-establishment form.

And when they finally hand you a heartache,
when they slip war and hatred under your door,
and offer you handouts on street corners of cynicism and defeat,
you tell them that they really ought to meet your mother.
​(Sarah Kay, from “B (If I Should Have a Daughter)”)

Thus, we can see how the course of the past century has thrown open the gates of the poetic realm, completely dismantling the pre-determined idea of specified ‘form’ to accommodate freedom, experimentation, & accessibility. This creative movement is inseparable from the socio-political rejection of the status quo, the boredom with tradition, & the resentment of an institution that discourages difference & walls itself off from the diverse yet universal grit, chaos, & unapologetic range of the human experience.

Today, the poetry industry is drastically more inclusive & supportive of non-traditional artistry, & if the ‘institution’ is still difficult to establish oneself in, we have access to a wide range of tools, platforms & communities with which to share our work. Yet I think it’s important to remember that these changes didn’t happen of their own volition, but through the passion, advocacy, & fearless rule-breaking of our predecessors. Thus, is it not our duty to continue in their footsteps—to question the status quo, to envision change, to uplift the voices of the marginalised, to embrace the formless yet powerful anarchy of the inspired spirit?

​It is inevitable that the question will still be asked: what is poetry? But I think we need only look to the origin of the word itself, deriving from the Greek poesis, ‘to make’. Poetry is not any specific thing so much as a concept: a making, a stitching together of words into a more meaningful whole, a craft of emotional expression, & restructuring of boundaries into a space for something boundless. But most importantly, it is the creation of a world in which rhythm, sound & language cut through the silence to give voice to the unsaid things, to break the boxes enforced upon humanity, & to ask the questions to which we all seek answers, even if doing so might mean abandoning comfort & safety to take the road less travelled.

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Devon Webb is a 25-year-old poet & writer based in Aotearoa. She shares her poetry online, through live performance, & has been widely published both locally & internationally including in The Spinoff, The Big Idea & bad apple. She is the two-time Wellington Slam Poetry Champion & is currently working on the final edits of her debut novel The Acid Mile. Her work can be found on Instagram, Twitter & TikTok at @devonwebbnz. ​