What Is Poor Poetry Called? Doggerel Explained with Examples and Fixes

You clicked because you want the exact term for poor poetry and a no-nonsense way to recognize it. Short answer: the word you’re after is doggerel. Longer answer: not every silly rhyme is bad, and not every serious poem is good. I’ll show you the difference, how to test your own lines, and how to fix the usual problems-without killing your voice. I write and edit poetry in Melbourne, and even my cat, Luna, has walked across clunky drafts. It happens. Let’s make yours stronger.

TL;DR: What is poor poetry called?

The usual term is doggerel. Dictionaries define it as verse with irregular rhythm and strained or trivial rhymes, often crude or comic in effect-sometimes by accident, sometimes on purpose.

• Core traits: clunky rhythm, forced rhymes, clichés, mixed metaphors, and shallow ideas.
• Close-but-not-the-same: light verse (playful but skillful), parody (bad-on-purpose to make a point), and nursery rhymes (simple, not careless).
• Related terms: “bad verse,” “jingle,” “bathos” (a style issue where tone drops from lofty to silly). “Purple prose” is fiction jargon, not poetry-specific.
• Why it matters: Labels help you diagnose problems fast. You can write playful or simple poems without slipping into doggerel.

Expectation check: this guide gives you a clear definition, a step-by-step test, examples with rewrites, quick checklists and comparisons, plus a compact FAQ and next steps.

How to spot it: a step-by-step check

Use this quick pass when a poem feels off. You can run through it in five minutes-faster if you read aloud.

1. Tap test (rhythm): Read the poem aloud while gently tapping a steady beat on your desk. Do your taps keep slipping? If the meter stumbles in the same spots on each read, that’s a pattern problem, not a one-off.
2. Rhyme cringe check: Highlight every rhyme pair. Ask: would I use that word there if I weren’t chasing a rhyme? If the answer is “no” twice in one stanza, the rhyme is likely forced.
3. Cliché counter: Mark phrases like “broken heart,” “tears like rain,” “forever love,” “soul on fire.” If you see 3+ clichés in 12 lines, freshness is at risk. Replace or reframe.
4. Mixed metaphor scan: Underline metaphor clusters. If a poem sails a mountain, bleeds clock hours, and sings thunder in one stanza, your images argue with each other.
5. Concrete test: Circle nouns and verbs. Are most of them abstract (love, pain, fate, destiny) and static (is, was, be)? Swap in concrete nouns and active verbs to anchor the poem in the real world.
6. Breath line rule: Read a sentence-length line in one breath. If you regularly gasp-or every line enjambs without payoff-the pacing may be padding the idea rather than shaping it.
7. Sense swap: For one stanza, delete every adjective. Does meaning collapse or improve? If it improves, your adjectives were hiding thin ideas.

Heuristics you can remember:

• Two forced rhymes + two clichés in a short poem = likely doggerel.
• If the joke depends on bad craft, it’s parody; if the poem isn’t joking, it’s just weak craft.
• A simple beat isn’t a sin. An unsteady beat that the poet doesn’t control usually is.

Evidence note: The Oxford English Dictionary and Merriam-Webster both define doggerel with “irregular” or “trivial” features, stressing rhythm and rhyme as the typical failure points. Prosody handbooks echo this: readers forgive simplicity; they don’t forgive sloppiness.

Examples: weak lines and better rewrites

Nothing beats seeing the problem on the page. Here are short, made-up examples I’ve actually used in workshops, plus quick fixes. Read them aloud. You’ll hear the difference.

1) Forced rhyme

Weak:

My heart did break upon the lake,
I cried a lot, for goodness sake.

What’s wrong: “for goodness sake” only exists to rhyme with “lake,” and the rhythm stumbles (that extra beat in line 2).

Fix (keep the scene, drop the strain):

The lake kept its glitter.
I kept the splinter.

Why it works: internal echo (glitter/splinter) instead of a clunky end-rhyme, tighter rhythm, fresher image.

2) Cliché pile-on

Weak:

My broken heart, a river of tears,
drowning in sorrows, swallowed by fears.

Problem: “broken heart,” “river of tears,” and “sorrows/fears” are all stock. The rhyme is neat but empty.

Fix:

At the tram stop, I count the flyers
for lost cats. Luna watches, unimpressed.

Why it works: It trades abstraction for a scene. Anchoring the feeling in something ordinary (a tram stop, my cat) lands harder than a generic lament.

3) Mixed metaphors

Weak:

Love is a storm that lights my veins with fire,
a quiet ocean humming in the wire.

Problem: Storm, fire, ocean, wire-four clashing metaphors fight for space.

Fix:

The kettle clicks off. In the silence
your text lights the room.

Why it works: Two images, aligned. Electricity stays with light; no cross-traffic.

4) Meter drift in formal verse

Weak (meant as iambic pentameter, but isn’t):

I walk the long and lonely road at night

Count it. You’ll hear stumbles and fillers (“long and lonely” acts as padding).

Fix:

I take the night road. No one calls my name.

Cleaner rhythm, no filler, clearer image.

5) Bathos (unintentional drop from high to low)

Weak:

O Muse, unbolt the gates of memory vast-
also remind me to buy oat milk fast.

Problem: The joke isn’t earned; the tone crash feels accidental, not artful.

Fix:

Keep the sacred tone, or commit to comedy on purpose. For example, as parody:

O Muse of lists, who guards the shopping app-
pronounce again the sacred word: “wraps.”

Why it works: The silliness is the point; the craft supports it.

6) Rhyme handcuffs the syntax

Weak:

To thee my love I send this letter,
in hopes our bond grow ever better.

Problem: Inverted phrasing (“to thee my love I send”) exists only for the rhyme.

Fix:

I wrote you. That’s all the letter says.

Why it works: Modern syntax, cleaner honesty, no rhyme acrobatics.

Cheat-sheets, comparisons, and quick fixes

Here’s a compact set of rules of thumb, plus a comparison table to separate doggerel from its lookalikes.

• Rule of Three: If a line needs three or more stretch-words (“just,” “very,” “really,” “so”) to keep the beat, cut the beat, not the breath.
• Freshness Swap: Replace each cliché with either a specific object, a sensory detail, or a place. Ex: “heartbreak” → “the coffee gone cold in the sink.”
• Rhyme Triage: If the perfect rhyme is clunky, try a near rhyme (room/rome), echo (glitter/splinter), or drop end-rhyme for internal or pattern rhyme instead.
• One Metaphor Per Span: Keep each image field consistent for a stanza. If you start on weather, stay there until the stanza resolves.
• Read Aloud Twice: First for rhythm, second for breath. Mark the stumbles you repeat. That’s your edit list.

Quick self-edit template (printable):

• Underlined my best nouns/verbs; replaced two abstractions with concrete details.
• Removed one cliché and one filler phrase.
• Swapped one forced end-rhyme for a near rhyme or internal echo.
• Checked one stanza for metaphor consistency.
• Read aloud and marked two rhythm stumbles to fix.

Fix-by-scenario tips:

• If you must rhyme (songs, kids’ verse): Write the line in natural speech first, then rhyme. Speak it like you’d text a friend. Only then find a rhyme that doesn’t twist the syntax.
• If your poem feels flat: Add one physical action and one sensory detail. “He leaves” → “He leaves the mug, still warm.”
• If your poem feels messy: Choose a form constraint (4-beat lines, couplets, a syllable cap). Constraints force choices and usually cut bloat.
• If you over-explain: Cut the line that explains the last line. Trust the image to carry meaning.

Mini-FAQ and next steps

Mini-FAQ

Is doggerel always accidental?
Not always. Some poets use it on purpose for humor. The difference is control: if the craft is clumsy by accident, it reads as weak; if it’s deliberate, it usually points at a joke or critique.

Is free verse just “lazy” rhyme?
No. Good free verse has musical cadence, line integrity, and image logic. If a poem reads like chopped-up prose, that’s not the form’s fault-that’s an editing issue.

Are rhyming poems childish?
Not at all. Rhyme is a tool. The question is whether the rhyme sounds inevitable or shoved. Internal rhyme, slant rhyme, and patterned consonance are adult, nuanced options.

What’s the origin of “doggerel”?
It traces to Middle English. Early uses described rough or trivial verse. The negative tone stuck, though comic traditions (like mock-epic) sometimes adopt the roughness for effect.

Can simple poems be good?
Yes. Simple is not the same as sloppy. Clarity, clean image, and honest tone beat fancy words that don’t land.

Is “bathos” the same thing?
Bathos is a tone problem-an unplanned drop from grand to trivial. It can appear inside doggerel, but it’s a broader rhetorical issue, not a verse-only label.

Next steps and troubleshooting

For beginners: Pick one short poem you like. Type it out by hand. Read it aloud and tap the beats. Then mimic its structure with your own subject. You learn faster by copying the scaffolding, not the words.

For songwriters: Write the melody first or a drum loop. Fit syllables to beats. If the lyric keeps squirming to rhyme, try internal rhymes on the strong beats and relax the ends of lines.

For spoken word performers: Memorize the draft and perform it once. Note where your mouth trips or your breath runs short. That’s where the line is wrong, not you. Rewrite to fit your natural cadence.

For students: Scan one stanza with stress marks (˘ for unstressed, ´ for stressed). You don’t need perfect scansion; you need repeatable rhythm. If your marks shift each read, your meter isn’t stable.

For bilingual or ESL poets: If rhyme accuracy is stressing you out, prioritize image and cadence first. Add rhyme on the revision pass with near rhymes that feel natural in your accent.

Micro-workout (10 minutes):

1. Write 4 lines about what’s on your kitchen bench. No abstractions. Only objects and actions.
2. Now sneak in one emotion without naming it. Hint at it with an action.
3. Read aloud. Change one noun and one verb to something more precise.

Workshop drill I use in Melbourne:

• Bring one poem you like and one that bugs you.
• We mark forced rhymes in red, clichés in yellow, and beautiful surprises in green.
• Goal: keep the green, replace the red, and question the yellow. Two passes, no drama.

Reading list (no links, but easy to find):

• A prosody primer by a reputable poet-critic to understand meter and rhythm basics.
• An anthology of contemporary free verse to hear cadence without rhyme.
• Classic light verse (Dorothy Parker, Ogden Nash) to study wit with control.

Final gut check before you publish or post:

• Could a stranger read this aloud without tripping?
• Did any line survive only because it rhymes?
• Is at least one image specific enough that only you could have written it?
• If someone removed the line breaks, would it still feel like a poem? If not, why not?

If your answers feel shaky, it’s not a failure. It’s a draft. Give it a walk, pet a cat, come back, and try one fix at a time. That’s how clunky turns into clean.