Remember Edgar Allen Poe’s “The Raven“?

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
`’Tis some visitor,’ I muttered, `tapping at my chamber door –
Only this, and nothing more.’

In school, even those of us shied away from poetry were drawn to this poem for its eerie momentum. In 1850, Poe wrote “The Philosophy of Composition” explaining his process in writing “The Raven;” he mentions his thoughts about one of the kinds of repetition in the poem:

…bethought me of the nature of my refrain. Since its application was to be repeatedly varied it was clear that the refrain itself must be brief, for there would have been an insurmountable difficulty in frequent variations of application in any sentence of length. In proportion to the brevity of the sentence would, of course, be the facility of the variation. This led me at once to a single word as the best refrain.

The question now arose as to the character of the word. Having made up my mind to a refrain, the division of the poem into stanzas was of course a corollary, the refrain forming the close to each stanza. That such a close, to have force, must be sonorous and susceptible of protracted emphasis, admitted no doubt, and these considerations inevitably led me to the long o as the most sonorous vowel in connection with r as the most producible consonant.

The sound of the refrain being thus determined, it became necessary to select a word embodying this sound, and at the same time in the fullest possible keeping with that melancholy which I had pre-determined as the tone of the poem. In such a search it would have been absolutely impossible to overlook the word “Nevermore.”

Poe wrote “nothing more” at the end of his first stanza, “evermore” at the end of his second stanza and then returned to “nothing more” for five stanzas before the raven speaks his name “Nevermore;” then that word is repeated at the end of 10 more stanzas:
(Stanza 2)
Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December,
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow; – vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow – sorrow for the lost Lenore –
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels named Lenore –
Nameless here for evermore.

(Stanza 3)
And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me – filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating
`’Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door –
Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door; –
This it is, and nothing more,’

(Stanza 8)
Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,
`Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,’ I said, `art sure no craven.
Ghastly grim and ancient raven wandering from the nightly shore –
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night’s Plutonian shore!’
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.’

(Stanza17)
And the raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon’s that is dreaming,
And the lamp-light o’er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted – nevermore!

Or course, hearing words that rhyme at the ends of sentences and inside sentences is part of the pleasure for any listener. But certainly the ear’s expectation of a stanza ending word with “more” in it contributes. The fun also comes from repeated words and phrases on the interior of sentences. These make us feel the suspense the speaker feels as well as his sadness: “rapping, rapping;” “surcease of sorrow–sorrow for the lost Lenoire,” “some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door–/ Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door.”

Another poem famous for its strength and staying power with listeners is “Dreams” by Langston Hughes. This poem is much, much shorter than Poe’s work but the art of repeating phrases causes impact beyond the poem’s length:

Dreams
By Langston Hughes

Hold fast to dreams
For if dreams die
Life is a broken-winged bird
That cannot fly.
Hold fast to dreams
For when dreams go
Life is a barren field
Frozen with snow.

The command in the line “Hold fast to dreams” expresses the poet’s urgency, the passion with which he speaks. The switch from the conditional “if” to the almost certainty of “when” in the phase that follows each “Hold fast to dreams” drives the point home. Again, we see that repetition with small changes builds meaning and momentum for poets. Prose writer use the technique, too.

In the short story “The Pier,” Mori Ogwai repeats one sentence: “The pier is long — long —” throughout about every five hundred words. This kind of repetition creates foreshadowing, convincing the reader to bring along feelings of suspense from one part of the story to another.

Another prose writers skilled at repeating words and phrases inside of sentences is Ernest Hemingway:

Certainly there is no hunting like the hunting of man and those who have hunted armed men long enough and liked it, never really care for anything else thereafter. (from “On the Blue Water” in Esquire, April 1936)

To develop your ability to employ repetition to heighten emotion, be sure when you read to note moments you come across word repetitions that you enjoy. Here is another from Hemmingway and from several other authors whose work you know:

Ernest Hemmingway: “And then it just occurred to him that he was going to die. It came with a rush, not as a rush of water nor of wind… (“The Snows of Kilimanjaro”)

Charles Dickens: “It was the best of times. It was the worst of times.” (A Tale of Two Cities)

Emily Dickinson: “I’m nobody! Who are you? / Are you nobody too?” (“I’m Nobody! Who Are You?”)

T. S. Eliot: “Because I do not hope to turn again / Because I do not hope / Because I do not hope to turn…” (“Ash Wednesday“)

Samuel Taylor Coleridge: I looked upon the rotting sea / And drew my eyes away; / I looked upon the rotting deck / And there the dead men lay.” (“The Rime of the Ancient Mariner“)

Alfred Noyes: And the highwayman came riding– / Riding–riding– /
The highwayman came riding, up to the old inn door. (“The Highwayman“)

Your Turn
Reading styles of repetition will influence your writing. Copying patterns authors use can even inspire new pieces you might not have written if you weren’t trying to emulate a particular author’s use of repetition.

For this week’s exercise, think of a decision you made. Picture yourself in a particular place where you think you did or might have made the decision. Now write a description of that moment using repetition.

For example, I am thinking about the time years ago when I finally made the decision to get a divorce. Recalling that moment in a freewrite, I say: “I looked at the kitchen counter full of bottles, juices, milk, and dressings / and I read the labels on them one by one. / I did not put them away, but looked at a kitchen counter full of sustenance displaced.”

Then, I try a different pattern: “Because I wanted more and hoped to find it, because I wanted less and would give up much of what I had, because I wanted to mine the depths of me, I left the kitchen, the counter as it was and opened my door to earth and trees, the sun.”

If I put this all together and practice compression that allows for some of the repetition, I might have a poem:

Meaning It

I saw my kitchen counter full of bottles,
juices, milk, and dressing, read the labels
one by one. I left the kitchen counter
full of sustenance displaced, this first
of many days, this last of many others.

I wanted more and hoped I’d find it;
I wanted less. I left the counter as it was,
opened my door to earth and trees and sun.

Now you try it: Invent lines that use repetition to describe where you were and what you were thinking when you made an important decision. Or try writing in present tense and see what decision you might be making about something you are thinking about.

Perhaps what you write will stand as a finished piece or it might become incorporated into a longer work you have in mind. But whether or not you use the particular lines you invent for the exercise, you will get the hang of using repetition; you will feel the stride it creates and how it draws writing from you.