Englyn-Alikes

The englyn (rhymes with “engine”), Welsh plural englynion, is a group of syllabic, rhyming Welsh forms. There are at least a dozen recognised forms, but it's not clear if that's historically accurate or if it's a later crystallisation of a broader, more flexible form.

Celtic poetry also makes heavy use of assonance, consonance, and alliteration in harmonic patterns collectively called cynghanedd. These harmonies are often tricky, at least for someone who doesn't have decades of medieval Welsh bardic training.

Rather than write in the exact form of the Welsh englyn, I'm gonna write englyn-like poems that use a similar shape to the englyn unodl union.

Defining the englyn-alike

Note: This is a living definition, updated over time as I hit roadblocks or try new things.

The englyn-alike is a 3-line, rhyming, syllabic form, with 10/6/8 syllables per line. The meter is iambic or trochaic. The first line is divided into two parts of even-numbered syllables (often 6–4, but it could also be 2–8, 4–6, or 8–2). Optionally, the second part can be divided from the first by punctuation (e.g. an em dash or parentheses). When using the first line of the poem as an de facto title, the second part of the line can be omitted.

The second part of the first line should be idiomatically different from the first somehow. For example:

Sometimes, in my englyn-alikes, the second part could be read after any line and it'd still make some kinda sense.

There are two rhymes, one between the end of the first part of the first line and the ends of the other lines, and the other between the end of the second part of the first line and the fourth syllable of the second line. Here's a syllable-by-syllable demo (first line split at the 6th syllable):

x–x–x–x–x–A–x–x–x–B/
x–x–x–B–x–A*/
x–x–x–x–x–x–x–A

The “A*” syllable can be a half- or full rhyme with the other “A” syllables.

Assonance, consonance, and alliteration are also good, but not strictly required.

Poems

  1. 2026-03-28

    Flagellant seasons roam—blind eyes aglint—
And whittle winter's bones
For flutes to play their wordless poems.

  2. 2026-02-15

    It passes cold and clean,
                                            a tourist light,
Dismissing sight-unseen
Our miseries—we're just bad dreams.

  3. 2025-12-25

    Dead cities spill their guts—
	middens, confess!—
And in expressive rot,
Old carrion museums rut.

    I also had the last line as “Detritivore museums rut”, but “detritivore” is a pretty technical word and “carrion” covers similar ground while being more expressive and widely-understood.

  4. 2025-11-30

    Dead constellations crown
	—such heavy light—
Our long-benighted town
Where gods of fortune come to drown.

  5. 2025-10-29

    The rich snuffed out the sun (or so they scheme)
And charge us premium
For cheapass trashfires by the tonne.

    Some overlap with another englyn-alike from the same day.

  6. 2025-10-29

    The Kid lassoed the sun (or so it seems)
And charges premium
To see it caged inside his gun.

    Some overlap with another englyn-alike from the same day.

  7. 2025-10-25

    The deepest darkness schemes: “Envisage me!”
And though you flee, those screams
Will haunt your zoetropic dreams.

  8. 2025-10-15

    Young Death creeps closer by the hour, hat doffed,
His footfalls soft and flowered,
But vast outmatch your fading power.

    I think it works to treat “hour”, “flowered”, and “power” as equivalent lengths, but it depends on pronunciation. If the reader's really insistent on certain ways of saying them, this poem's meter definitely breaks.

  9. 2025-09-21

    A striding signpost turns: No Entry Here
And—though it's hearsay—spurns
All those who speak, but never learn.

  10. 2025-09-19

    Your grave still sleeps (beneath six stamping feet),
While through the streets we keep
A vigil—through the strike, we weep.

    Alternative ending: “sword in sheathe, we weep”.

  11. 2025-09-05

    The thinnest strip bestowed—
	by local gods—
Between the fence and road—
A line that no-one's ever toed.

    Agh I wanted to get in something about “The echo of the property line”, but it's hard enough getting the rhymes to work (see also). That said, given I couldn't get both rhymes to work here, I might come back later and rework this.

  12. 2025-09-02

    Thin sheep shake off their coats (of End-Times rain),
And weathervanes on boats
Remember Noah and swap anecdotes.

    Last line's actually 10 syllables, but I don't think that matters much. Anyway, it uses a very similar line to a crooked quad I wrote the same day.

  13. 2025-08-29

    Tasteless apparitions/gurning phantoms
With divine ambitions
Take the stage as politicians.

    Same subject as a verbless couplet written on the same day.

  14. 2025-08-21

    Admonish all the trees—cruel slender limbs—
And sing your sympathies
For Mr. Chainsaw's broken teeth.

    I guess in the same vein as this earlier poem?

  15. 2025-08-08
    Anthropocene Blackberries

    Young Summer claims this fruit from Autumn old,
And fifty years from now
The golden heights of June stain black.

    I was struggling to do something with this idea and ended up dumping it into this non-rhyming englyn-alike form.

  16. 2025-07-20

    The supernova's lust—all echo-flash—
Just leaves me ash and dust,
A dry and unfulfilled disgust.

  17. 2025-05-31
    Library-Pulping Blowjob Machine

    The future god arrives—their basilisk—
And asterisks our lives
While leech-brain men demand high-fives.

    I had the middle part sitting in my notes (“basilisk–and asterisks our lives”) for about 3 weeks before writing the rest. The last line is modified from a two-line fragment.

  18. 2025-05-30

    Rich Neptune strokes his shaft (a trident, sure)
As sirens lure the raft
Where bleach-faced, crippled sailors graft.

  19. 2025-05-09
    The Urban Serpent

    The urban serpent sheds (its wheels and fumes)
Through sliproads, tombs, and fens
Where ghosts of city planners tread.

  20. 2025-04-28
    Writing Englyns

    Hard times writing englyns (three-line rhyming);
Two rhymes primes the engine,
Yet for three I'm feeling hemmed-in.

  21. 2025-04-28
    The Speechless Conclave

    No witnesses to throng—the perfect crime!
Yet in the grime and bones
A speechless conclave gossips long.

  22. 2025-04-25

    The ancient light defiled—lets build a bomb—
So rich non-domiciles
Can buy Potemkin homes for miles.

  23. 2025-04-25

    Our dying Sun still churns—so vast! so dark!
Its final mark on Earth:
Abandoned solar windmills turn.

  24. 2025-04-23
    Evening's Laboured Sigh

    The hour is nigh to write (leftover day),
The evening's laboured sigh
When clouds are blue and sky is white.

  25. 2025-04-15
    Street Grit Creaks

    Street grit creaks under feet (of slugs and snails)
The nightly gale can't sweep
Away the mighty mollusc fleet.

    At first the poem ended with a fourth line, “And so it sends the birds, that cheater”, but I didn't want anything bad to happen to the snails… Anyway, this has a kinda “illustrated poetry book for kids” vibe to me. Like I imagine a painting of a kid looking out their bedroom window at night, watching the street in wonder as a parade of oversized, decorated snails push effortlessly against the wind.