How to Write a Pantoum Poem

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.

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.

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…

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.