Do I make you uncomfortable? Do I, baby? Yeah!

[rayheinrich]

An observation - in all the poems you've posted, Ray, the rhyme appears natural only because of the enjambment.

While enjambment is used in a lot of them (but by no means all),  the main technique
Krisak uses is to make his poems so damn good that you pay attention to what he's
showing you and forget about over-emphasizing the rhyme.

But if I really wanted to appear "natural": I'd get rid of the rhyme, the iambic pentameter,
the evenly formatted lines, the allusions, the imagery, a few of the metaphors,
and whatever other poetic skulduggery I could lay my hands on.

Poems are the ne plus ultra of contrivances; there's really not that much natural about them.
The enjoyment, comprehension, and other esthetic fun we derive from them comes from our willingness
(and ability) to momentarily abandon whole bunches of sense and reason.

(Not that I'm a big fan of using tons of enjambment.  See "spoiler" below.)

How long before it's seen as cliched and unimaginative?

Since he's such a wonderful poet, I suspect it will take a really long time.
But that's the process; you can't have new without old.
Luckily for us, our brains and lives are limited enough so that 99% of the audience experiences that freshly-revelated
feeling we all know and love -- unless someone spoils it by telling them the ending (don't you do that).

I was being deliberately pig-headed in my declamations earlier...

Thank goodness, as there's nothing so discomfiting as unintended pig-headedness.  

English isn't a very rhyme - friendly language. Witness words like 'mountain', 'month', 'rhythm', 'Anabaptist', 'deer'. Either no rhymes or ridiculous ones. Can't write a tragic epic about an Anabaptist deer, for instance.

Never fear, it's still quite possible to write that epic by using an old poet's trick my grandpap thought me:

"If you can't rhyme a word, stick it in the middle somewhere."

Or, pull an Emily: Just rhyme it with something that doesn't.


Alternative to enjambment:

You could take this poem:
    Lineman       - by Len Krisak

         (Grand Trunk Western Railroad, 1967)

Cocky and freshly spurred, he climbed
Amid the alien corn:  green row
On row arrayed in June and primed.
He climbed and saw those ranked spears grow

As close as ears could get to tracks.
Far off, four rails consumed their ties
Until they were the least of facts
And disappeared before his eyes.

This was his summer job:  to dig
Heels in, step up, belt on, come down.
But slung back in his aerie's rig,
A yellow hard hat for a crown,

The lineman only meant to sight
How far his lonely kingdom ran
From such a pole, at such a height
As might become a brand new man.

He strung the wire and walked till Fall,
To see what might be out of joint.
But nothing there seemed wrong at all,
From vantage clear to vanishing point.




and unenjamb it:

    Lineman       - by Len Krisak - unenjambed by me

cocky and freshly spurred
he climbed amid the alien corn
green row on row
arrayed in June and primed
he climbed and saw those ranked spears
grow as close as ears could get to tracks

far off
four rails consumed their ties
until they were the least of facts
and disappeared before his eyes

this was his summer job:  
to dig heels in
step up
belt on
come down
slung back in his aerie's rig
a yellow hard hat for a crown

the lineman only meant to sight
how far his lonely kingdom ran
from such a pole
at such a height
as might become a brand new man

he strung the wire and walked till fall
to see what might be out of joint
but nothing there seemed wrong at all
from vantage clear to vanishing point