How to Write a Pantoum Poem

Sean Glatch  |  March 31, 2024  | 

The pantoum poem is a poem of any length, sectioned in quatrains, and it has experienced a recent surge in popularity from contemporary poets. Like other forms, such as the villanelle or the ghazal, pantoum poems rely on the strategic repetition of lines whose meanings change throughout the piece.

The pantoum poem originated in 15th century Malaysia, although the original form differs significantly from the form contemporary poets write. The original pantoum structure required the poem to rhyme. Contemporary poets, who love to tinker with form (and tend to hate rhyme), have modified the pantoum to its present day form.

This article explores how to write a pantoum poem, with examples of pantoum poems from contemporary poetry. But first, let’s nail down the pantoum form. What is a pantoum poem?

What is a Pantoum Poem?

A pantoum poem is a poem of any length, written in quatrains, in which the second and fourth lines of one stanza are repeated as the first and third, respectively, in the next stanza.

Pantoum definition: a poem of any length, written in quatrains, in which the second and fourth lines of one stanza are repeated as the first and third, respectively, in the next stanza.

This form varies greatly from the original pantoum. In the 15th century, Malaysian poets wrote pantuns. Actually, they spoke pantuns—it was an oral form that far predates the 1400s, consisting of an intricate structure, including an ABAB rhyme scheme and two seemingly disconnected sections. These pantuns served (and continue to serve) a variety of functions, from the didactic to the persuasive to the emotional and beyond.

In the 19th century, a particular type of pantun, called the pantun berkait, was introduced to Western poetry. The pantun berkait requires the use of interwoven quatrains with repeating lines and an ABAB rhyme scheme. Each line typically consists of 8-12 syllables; this does not need to be consistent throughout the piece.

The pantun berkait is more complicated than the contemporary pantoum poem: for example, contemporary poems do not require the ABAB rhyme scheme. Let’s look deeper at what the modern pantoum structure does require.

Pantoum Structure

The modern, Western pantoum is written in quatrains (stanzas of four lines). The 2nd and 4th lines of one stanza are repeated as the 1st and 3rd lines, respectively, of the next stanza. Some variation is allowed when these lines are rewritten, but the point is to chart how meanings are altered when these lines are repeated and juxtaposed in different ways.

Often, though not always, the last line of the pantoum poem is the same as the first line.

Sometimes, also, in the final stanza, lines 2 and 4 are the same as lines 1 and 3 from the first stanza.

If you were writing a 4 quatrain pantoum, here’s what it might be typically structured as:

Stanza 1

A
B
C
D

Stanza 2

B
E
D
F

Stanza 3

E
G
F
H

Stanza 4

G
I (or A)
H
J (or A, or C)

Again, these rules are relatively simple compared to the original Malaysian form, which has a rhyme scheme and tends to favor brevity. One of the more famous Western pantoum poems is “Pantoum of the Great Depression” by Donald Justice, a poet whose coming-of-age coincided with the Depression. See the pantoum structure at play below, retrieved from Poetry Foundation.

Pantoum of the Great Depression

Our lives avoided tragedy
Simply by going on and on,
Without end and with little apparent meaning.
Oh, there were storms and small catastrophes.

Simply by going on and on
We managed. No need for the heroic.
Oh, there were storms and small catastrophes.
I don’t remember all the particulars.

We managed. No need for the heroic.
There were the usual celebrations, the usual sorrows.
I don’t remember all the particulars.
Across the fence, the neighbors were our chorus.

There were the usual celebrations, the usual sorrows.
Thank god no one said anything in verse.
The neighbors were our only chorus,
And if we suffered we kept quiet about it.

At no time did anyone say anything in verse.
It was the ordinary pities and fears consumed us,
And if we suffered we kept quiet about it.
No audience would ever know our story.

It was the ordinary pities and fears consumed us.
We gathered on porches; the moon rose; we were poor.
What audience would ever know our story?
Beyond our windows shone the actual world.

We gathered on porches; the moon rose; we were poor.
And time went by, drawn by slow horses.
Somewhere beyond our windows shone the world.
The Great Depression had entered our souls like fog.

And time went by, drawn by slow horses.
We did not ourselves know what the end was.
The Great Depression had entered our souls like fog.
We had our flaws, perhaps a few private virtues.

But we did not ourselves know what the end was.
People like us simply go on.
We have our flaws, perhaps a few private virtues,
But it is by blind chance only that we escape tragedy.

And there is no plot in that; it is devoid of poetry.

Note that the final line is a variation of the pantoum form; typically, these poems just have quatrains. Note, also, that the last line of the last quatrain is a slant repetition of the poem’s first line.

Examples of Pantoum Poems

The following examples of pantoum poems come from contemporary poets and publications.

1. “Eclipse Season” by Tracy Fuad

Retrieved from Poets.org

after Iris Cushing

There is no empire in nerve.
When I come home, I roam the map.
My cursor lands on Truth or Consequences,
and I read facts about Titanic till I’m blue.

When I come home I’ve roamed the map.
I tell my love what I have done Wyoming.
The facts stack up titanic and I blue.
I don’t know what I love now, he tells me.

I’ve done it, told my love Wyoming.
Bit the corner off a dumpling before cooking.
I don’t know if I love you, I should say.
I want to see if there’s a mark left later.

I bit the corner off this dumb thing.
What was left behind and then uncovered?
I want to see the mark that I felt later.
When I got home my love was thinned obscure.

Left behind and then uncovered,
by noon the moon had taken the blue stage.
My homeland, love, has been obscured, smeared
into surrounding states. Grass was growing greener.

By two the moon had exited the stage.
I preen into my screen and blue but I am gone.
Grass was growing green where I should be,
bared beneath the briefly darkening desert.

I preen into a blue screen where I’ve gone,
a darkened noon, Wyoming under shadow,
briefly spared beneath the blackening desert,
an earth threaded with crescent meaning.

At noon Wyoming slides from under shadow.
I want to pull the fabric back, to see the other cloth.
The threads I tend with meaning:
dirt on my head, I should die, I would say.

I pulled the fabric back and saw the other cloth.
Beneath us is a net of empire sewn with nerve.
Dirt in my mouth, I will die.
I asked you for your weather, then your liver.

The syntax of this pantoum is especially interesting, with many short sentences and strange-seeming constructions. The poem’s syntax, combined with the poem’s form, makes this an incredibly moving piece about grief, which often flows slow as an iceberg, lingering longer than we’d like. Notice how certain words and images recur even outside of the form’s required repetitions, particularly Wyoming and the color blue.

2. “Pantoum For Love and Fire” by Anointing Obuh

Retrieved from Lolwe.

Anyway, you love me but I do weird things:
Fireworks toasting on the stove, shoes left haphazard by the door
Sleeping on my back, drinking honey from an Earthen jug
Snoring like a giant oak tree.

Fireworks toasting on the stove, shoes left haphazard by the door
All the messy feelings left to roost, defeathered
Snoring like a giant oak tree
A letter’s unread opening line:

All the messy feelings left to roost, defeathered.
I find myself leaning on the countertops
A letter’s unread opening line,
burning into the suspended agony of smoke.

I find myself, leaning on the countertops
& who is to blame for the dirty

dishes

racked

burning into the suspended agony of smoke—
Folding gently and soft.

& who is to blame? For all the dirty

dishes

racked

There is a towel stained with blood,
folding gently and soft
& the silence goes on like nothing.

There is a towel stained [with blood],
Mine or yours? We wouldn’t know
& the silence goes on like nothing
as the tears try to wet the fire that is—

mine or yours. We wouldn’t know?
As the house burns for dirty dishes racked up
against the wall
& no one left to clean the ashes. I ask:
I do weird things but you love me? Anyway…

This true-to-life love poem is perfect for the pantoum form. Long term relationships slow down, after a while, and things can linger, including our strange habits and relations to one another. The pantoum poem’s repetitions help highlight the speaker’s oddities, which he’s been made aware of because of the relationship, resulting in a poem that’s sweet, strange, and earnest in its exploration.

3. “Pantoum from the Window of the Room Where I Write” by Alison Townsend

Retrieved from Rattle

At sunset the russet oak turns into a lamp.
Each polished leaf glows amber, lit by sun.
As a child, I raked leaves with my mother each fall.
We burned small pyres, their flames the color of loss.

Each polished leaf glows amber, lit by sun.
I could not know my mother would die young.
We burned small pyres, their flames the color of loss.
I stand here watching, older now than she ever was.

I could not know my mother would die young.
The tree is a galleon, its sails coppered by light.
I stand here watching, older now than she ever was.
I raked leaves into rooms and houses as a girl.

The tree is a galleon, its sails coppered by light.
I’ll always be a daughter, part of her body’s bright map.
I raked leaves into rooms and houses as a girl.
Death is a lit tree, its amber walls falling in pieces.

I’ll always be a daughter, part of her body’s bright map.
As a child, I raked leaves with my mother each fall.
Death is a lit tree, its amber walls falling in pieces.
At sunset the russet oak turns into a lamp.

Pantoum poetry works well for the topic of grief, which itself is non-linear. Interesting to note, aside from the poem’s gorgeous imagery and constant reframing of the orange lit tree, is that each line is its own complete sentence. The poet herself puts it perfectly when she says the pantoum is “a ruminative form and a melancholy one—exactly what I needed to evoke the on-going presence of the past in the present, and the way even great loss can be illuminated by beauty.”

How to Write a Pantoum Poem

You’ve seen the pantoum structure in action, but how do you write one yourself? Here are five tips on how to write a pantoum poem.

1. Give Careful Attention to Topic

The pantoum form works well for certain topics. You’ve seen how it allows poets to linger on themes of grief, love, and memory. What else might the pantoum structure reveal about the topic you write?

Typically, poets have used the form to explore nonlinear ideas. Grief, for example, tends to be circular, as we often visit and revisit that which makes us grief over and over again, each visitation mingling new feelings and old.

That said, you might discover something new by writing a pantoum poem with a linear topic. Childhood, for example, is a fairly linear subject, but imagine what you might discover by taking something linear and making it nonlinear.

There are no topics that can’t be written as a pantoum, but be mindful of the form as you’re using it, what it might uncover, what you want it to express.

2. Juxtapose Repetition with Context

Because repetition is an essential aspect of pantoum poetry, the lines you write should be interesting enough to be repeated. Complexity is key, here, as a line’s meaning should change when juxtaposed with different lines.

That said, not every line needs a new meaning: sometimes, it can hold the same meaning, but in a new context, which also adds weight.

Take these two stanzas from “Pantoum of the Great Depression”:

There were the usual celebrations, the usual sorrows.
Thank god no one said anything in verse.
The neighbors were our only chorus,
And if we suffered we kept quiet about it.

At no time did anyone say anything in verse.
It was the ordinary pities and fears consumed us,
And if we suffered we kept quiet about it.
No audience would ever know our story.

Each repeated line (in bold) repeats in different ways. The line about speaking in verse is modified slightly, but the sentence itself is the entire line, and its meaning doesn’t change much from one stanza to the next. The line about suffering, however, is situated in two contexts: one involving the neighbors (which adds a sense of loneliness and self-dependence), and one in which the speaker is consumed by ordinary pities and fears (which adds a sense of desperation in the mundane). These shifting contexts also make the line about speaking in verse seem starker and more lonely, too.

Because most lines of your pantoum will be repeated, those repeating lines need to do essential work twice in a poem. That’s no easy feat, and will likely come about through the revision process.

3. Be Mindful of How Lines Repeat

As you probably noticed reading the examples of pantoum poems above, many repeated lines don’t repeat word for word. Certainly, your lines don’t need to do that, either, as the context of a line might change its grammar.

That said, you want to be careful about how you repeat your lines, and be intentional if your lines don’t repeat word for word.

Here are some reasons you might stray from a perfect repetition:

  • The tense of a verb has changed to denote the passage of time.
  • One line is a sentence, the other is a clause, affecting the line’s syntax.
  • The change in repetition highlights something essential—see the “thank god” in “Pantoum of the Great Depression.”
  • You’re using a homophone, which also highlights the word(s) being changed.
  • Changes in punctuation, word order, singulars to plurals, and other elements of syntax that make a line more readable.
  • Pronoun changes. “I” to “we,” for example.

The best changes in repetition draw attention to themselves and highlight something important in the text. But, changes for syntactical clarity are also accepted. The point is to change lines with intent, while still being faithful to the pantoum structure.

4. Consider a Twist in the Last Stanza

The last stanza is the most structurally open aspect of the pantoum form. It can repeat lines from the previous stanza, the first stanza, or both. Poets have also introduced fifth lines or other quirks, as you might have noticed in the above examples.

You don’t have to twist the last stanza, of course. But it’s something to consider, particularly where topic is involved. You might want to revisit a line from the first stanza, for example, to call attention to how that line’s meaning has evolved throughout the poem. Or, you might want the last stanza to mirror the first, calling attention to the cyclical nature of the poem’s theme.

There are many other reasons to twist the last stanza, too. Think about how you might end with a bang. And, if having no “twist” allows you to have the most impactful ending to your piece, then don’t think of the twist as essential—it’s simply another tool in the pantoum poet’s toolkit.

5. Revise for Clarity, Impact, Theme

Few, if any, poems are perfect on a first draft. As you revise your pantoum poem, consider the following:

  • Does each repeated line carry its own weight twice?
  • Does each stanza contribute something unique and essential to the poem as a whole?
  • Are meaningful themes explored and expanded through each repetition?
  • Does the poem’s form have a relationship to the poem’s theme(s)?
  • Does the poem’s ending surprise or impact the reader?
  • Can each stanza be visualized? Does each stanza have strong, evocative images?
  • Does the poem end in some sort of transformation? Does the ending differ drastically from the start? If it doesn’t, are you ending in the same place as you started with clear intent?

For more advice on poetry and form, check out our articles on form in poetry and how to write a poem.

Master the Pantoum Form at Writers.com

Because the pantoum poem is a slow, meditative form, it might take you a while to write one. When you’re ready for feedback, Writers.com can help. Take a look at our upcoming online poetry classes, where you’ll receive expert feedback on every poem you write.

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Sean Glatch

Sean Glatch is a poet, storyteller, and screenwriter based in New York City. His work has appeared in Ninth Letter, Milk Press,8Poems, The Poetry Annals, on local TV, and elsewhere. When he's not writing, which is often, he thinks he should be writing.

2 Comments

  1. Mabe Patricia on January 13, 2023 at 10:39 pm

    Seem a bit complicated but I think with learning its possible to write one. Thanks for information

  2. #NaPoWriMo 2024 Day Thirteen | Hosking's Blog on April 13, 2024 at 9:19 am

    […] to day thirteen of #NaPoWriMo when Maureen asked us to use soundplay in our poem, I thought of the pantoum. There is quite a bit of sound play in the repetition. Plus it’s been a long time since I […]

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