There’s a prevalent belief in academic circles that we’ve “moved past” the need for the traditional rhyming poem. Sure, Wordsworth and Whitman were talented for their time, but this is the 21st century. We need to shake things up. Poetry, we’re told, should be daring and transgressive and unexpected. It should subvert stylistic expectations. It should explore generational trauma and challenge dominant power structures and change the world. Screw all those old dead white guys — Kenyon is the writer’s college, the forefront of literary innovation. Don’t even think about rhyming “pulchritudinous” with “unscrupulous.”

For a gal like me, whose favorite poems of all time are Lewis Carroll’s “Jabberwocky” and Edward Gorey’s The Gashlycrumb Tinies, Kenyon’s poetic community feels unwelcoming and unappealing. It’s possible to study more “conventional” and “archaic” kinds of poetry at Kenyon. I mean, I took a class on Chaucer my sophomore year, where I voraciously read rhyming epics about talking birds. I also experienced brief moments of whimsy reading Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland when I studied the 19th-century novel. And, of course, there’s always Shakespeare. But for students who want to emulate the style of iconic goofballs like Lewis Carroll and Ogden Nash in their own poetry, the pickings are slim. I want to learn the ins and outs of how to emulate my heroes’ craft, and as far as I’m aware, that’s not really possible here.

I’ll admit that I’ve never taken a poetry writing class at Kenyon. Maybe if I had, my professor would have enthusiastically encouraged me to compose the whimsical poem of my dreams. But the reason I haven’t taken a poetry writing class is because the ways Kenyon presents poetry to students — the course descriptions, the poets invited to give readings, the stuff that gets published in The Kenyon Review— signal to me that I should be writing a very specific kind of poem: one that’s deep and emotional and, above all, doesn’t rhyme.

I want to make it very clear that I’m not hating on Kenyon’s incredible professors, nor do I intend to dismiss the importance of contemporary poetry. (I’ve gotten teary-eyed reading Mary Oliver and Richard Siken just like the rest of you.) But there should also be a space for studying, writing and celebrating the good old rhyming poem.

I know that — unless admin is in the mood to tear down another historic building — the wheels of institutional change turn very slowly at Kenyon. So I’m issuing a call: If you’re like me, a student who believes in the beautiful ridiculousness of rhymes, then join me in my crusade. Write a silly poem every day for a week. Challenge yourself to only speak in rhyming couplets for an entire afternoon. Slip a love sonnet into your crush’s backpack. (My backpack is black with white polka dots and a Pusheen keychain. Just FYI, you know…)

In the spirit of joy and whimsy, allow me to leave you with a limerick:

There once was a humanities

major

who thought she could throw

a good rager,

but when she got on aux

and cued up indie rock,

all her friends called her a

freak of nature.

Dorothy Yaqub ’26 is an English and art history major from Santa Barbara, CA. She can be reached at yaqub1@kenyon.edu.