A lot of contemporary poets seem to have a distaste for rhyme, and I see it frequently in discussions on social media about poetry. Rhymed verses are often posted apologetically, as if the poet is afraid of offending the audience, even though it requires plenty of bardic skill to adhere to a particular form like a sonnet or a villanelle. Perhaps they feel that rhymes are too sing-song for a modern world full of sharp angles, too reminiscent of the nursery, too full of Romantic ideals.
But witches know better. We have been writing incantations for centuries. We know the power of rhymed couplets backed with powerful intentions. When I devoured Macbeth as a youngster, I wasn't the least bit frightened by Shakespeare's hags. I wanted to be them. I catalogued every ingredient tossed into their bubbling cauldron. Better to be the wise, mysterious women living outside the margins and able to see how the drama unfolds than to be the doomed players caught up in their own machinations. I'd rather "prick my thumbs" and know when "something wicked this way comes," thank you very much.
Imagine my delight as a curious spiritual seeker in my early twenties encountering "The Wiccan Rede" and seeing this line: "To bind the spell every time let the spell be spake in rhyme."
My inner hag perked up her ears. I didn't agree with all aspects of the Rede, but this part stuck with me. How could it not? Here was a practical use for my natural poetic ability!
As I became more advanced in my studies, I could feel the tingle of a spell begin to work as I drafted each line. It was like my words sent out a vibration that the Norns picked up in their threads, and the pattern they were weaving would start to change. Poems as spells gradually transformed my life. I wrote my way into the existence that I imagined for myself. I am here now writing poetry for you because of a spell that I cast 15 years ago. That's the beauty and the power of poetry in ritual.
But why are some poems so mesmerizing and spellbinding that they have lasted through the ages and still captivate an audience? Why does the rhyme hold so much magic, not just for the witch but for anyone who works with it? I feel that poet Annie Finch explains it best in her article on the subject:
‘Metre’ and ‘magic’ – along with ‘mother’ and ‘matter’ – derive from the same ancient root. Of all the ways that poems structure language physically, through repetition, none is more integral, eloquent and wondrous than metre...Rhythmic language has also been essential to traditional healers: shamans, medicine people, seers, griots, völvas. The continued attraction of metre today attests to its hypnotic impact, whether in sports chants, political slogans or advertising jingles, not to mention children’s books.
When I wrote Seasons & Solace, a part of me questioned whether I should include any rhymed verses at all. I loved my seasonal sonnets, but I didn't know if anyone else would. I had felt how the ancient gods and goddesses tend to lean in closer when their presence is requested in a rhymed invocation, but did others feel this too? Or had we drifted too far on a sea of short quips and mindless scrolling? I had this inkling that I wasn't alone in my experience with rhyme and ritual and that the most important part of my work was to bring the natural world in closer, to leave a reminder that we are interconnected, and to share something that could live and breathe in sacred space. So I listened to my inner bard and began to weave with words and rhythm.
And I hope that you will give yourself the opportunity to do that too. Let your creative cauldron boil and see what rises in the steam to whisper in your ear. Turn your affirmations and intentions into poems and songs and protests. Watch them grow wings and fly you to new places and new ways of being. Grow through your art. Know that your voice has immense power, far more than you realize. Why else would they be so keen to silence it?
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