What Fiction Writers Can Learn from Poetry

It’s National Poetry Month! I often feel like poetry is seen as solely “literary” and cut off from the popular imagination. Robert Pinsky’s The Favorite Poem Project and NPR’s recent invitation to submit poems via Twitter and TikTok help bring poetry back to the everyday. Fiction and nonfiction get far more attention from the media and the public, of course, and often people, even writers, fall firmly in the prose or poetry camps. 

However, there is a lot prose writers can learn from poetry. Especially if you’re feeling like your writing is a little stale, you can learn to play with words again by paying attention to some of the techniques poets use:

Imagery – poetry rarely relies on narration to get its point across. Poets observe the world closely to come up with original phrases to describe things. Mary Oliver’s grasshopper from “The Summer Day” – the one who has flung herself out of the grass. Or Theodore Roethke’s Bridges of iron lace/A suddenness of trees/A lap of mountain mist from “Night Journey.” What surprising juxtapositions, vivid verbs, or specific nouns can you use to create striking images?

Rhythm – obviously, poetry relies on rhythm and meter for its forms. Prose has its own rhythm as well, and it’s important to pay attention to it. Vary the length of your sentences. Use longer, more complex sentences to slow the pace down, and short ones to add emphasis. 

Simile and metaphor – yes, prose uses these as well. But we can be lazy and even run into cliché if we’re not careful. In poetry, where every word has to earn its place, vivid and original comparison are key. Pablo Neruda’s “Ode to My Socks” is a fabulous compilation of simile and metaphor focused on a very mundane item: 

…two socks as soft

as rabbits.

I slipped my feet

into them

as though into 

two 

cases

knitted

with threads of

twilight

and goatskin.

… They were

so handsome

for the first time

my feet seemed to me

unacceptable

like two decrepit 

firemen, firemen

unworthy

of that woven 

fire,

of those glowing

socks…

Playing with language in ways that can set the tone of a piece:

Alliteration – the repetition of the same initial sound in a series of words – Gerard Manley Hopkins’ “Pied Beauty” has these lines: Fresh-firecoal chestnut-falls; finches’ wings; and With swift, slow; sweet, sour; adazzle, dim…

Assonance – the repetition of vowel sounds, as in Edgar Allen Poe’s “Bells”: Hear the mellow wedding bells/golden bells!/What a world of happiness their harmony foretells!

Consonance – the repetition of consonants. Amanda Gorman’s “The Hill We Climb” uses both assonance and consonance to great effect: We’ve braved the belly of the beast/We’ve learned that quiet isn’t always peace.

Onomatopoeia – when the sound of the word evokes the sound of the thing itself (buzz, hiss, meow). Eve Merriam’s “Onomatopoeia” is just that:

The rusty spigot
sputters,
utters
a splutter,
spatters a smattering of drops,
gashes wider;
slash
splatters
scatters
spurts
finally stops sputtering
and plash!
gushes rushes splashes
clear water dashes.

Poetry also forces the writer to be concise and to a certain economy of words. For those of us (ahem, me) who tend to clutter our prose with filler words like just, that, or vague words like something, someone thinking in terms of the elegance of a poetic line can help overcome those tendencies. Again, in a poem every word matters. It should be, generally speaking, the same with prose, although there is more leniency in terms of less rigid forms and a more casual way of addressing the reader (directly or implicitly).  

Poetry really comes alive when it is read aloud (if it is done well – sadly, some poets are the worst readers of their own work!). Reading your prose aloud will allow you to hear the rhythm, the assonance, consonance, and so on much more clearly than in your head. Clunky phrases will leap out at you. Convoluted sentences and filler words will drag you down. 

Learn to use language in some of the ways poets do, and your prose will sparkle anew. Beware of overdoing it, of course. Part of the joy of poetry is to experience the dazzling ways poets can bend language to the shape of the poem, but too much of it in prose means the reader will be paying more attention to your language than the narrative. In literary fiction, this may be part of the appeal, but readers may resent being pulled out of the dream of the story by prose that flashes a neon sign saying look at me! I’m a unique simile!

You can also use it as a way to warm up to prose writing. If it’s something you never intend for publication, you can let it rip, playing in whatever way you choose. You might also use it as a way to access a particular scene: when you need vivid setting description, or to convey a character’s strong emotion, write it as a poem first. Forget about sentence structure and allow yourself to simply engage with the language. I guarantee it will be fresher and more compelling.   

Get into the habit of reading poetry. The Poetry Foundation, The American Verse Project, and Poetry Daily are great resources. You can also analyze some of your favorite prose writers and see what techniques they use in their work.

And of course, analyze your own writing to see where you can use poetic techniques to add spice to your prose, making it more vivid and interesting. It just might spur you on to fall in love with writing again!

What is your favorite poem? What techniques does the poet use that grab your attention? Tell us in the comments!