We’ve all seen them: those vague, bite-sized bits of advice broken up into separate lines and accompanied by an aesthetically pleasing illustration. Though claiming to be a poem, it looks more like a dissected tweet, a digital knickknack designed specifically to complement someone’s Pinterest board. If you’re a somewhat-pretentious-and-highly-individualistic writer like me, you may have just scrolled by and scoffed about the work’s lack of substance.
It’s likelier, though, that you read the poem and enjoyed it. That you found its directness impactful and its illustration charming, maybe to the point where you reshared it yourself. You wouldn’t be alone. The subgenre, dubbed “Instapoetry” from its origin on Instagram, is one of the most successful forms of poetry today.
Instapoetry’s short, visual nature allowed for its wildfire spread across various social media sites, but most recently TikTok. Though the subgenre may have began on Instagram and Tumblr, it has cemented its place in the literary world with its slew of published poetry books and handful of prestigious awards.
For as much success as the genre has enjoyed, it’s received even more criticism. The poems, often free verse and rarely longer than one or two sentences, have been called shallow and lazy. The style of writing itself is easily parodied, to the point where I was struggling to decipher which Instapoems were legitimate and which were a mockery when looking them up. Though, the critique most frequently tossed out tends to be “this is not a poem.”
I’d be lying if I said I didn’t agree, at least partially. As a self-proclaimed poetry enthusiast, I can’t help but find Instapoems to be uninspired and lacking in any real poetic qualities. They’re often just a few words long and rarely contain the use of rhythm or meter or creative wordplay. But, then again, poems don’t necessarily need rhythm or meter–the entire subgenre of prose poetry is testament to this. Neither do poems need to span multiple pages–haikus and cinquains are just a few universally recognised forms of poetry that are never longer than a few lines.
This begs the question: what makes a “good” poem? As with any art form, there isn’t one clear answer. Samuel Taylor Coleridge suggested that a good poem should be, “the best words in the best order,” placing emphasis on brevity and impact. Margaret Atwood spoke about the importance of a poem’s movement and phrasing. Ada Limón praised the musicality of a poem, or its “breath”.
In my opinion, a poem is only as good as the care a writer puts into it. Though “care” is hard to quantify, it can certainly be felt. Many times, I’ve read a poem that I couldn’t personally relate to but was still, unarguably, a good poem. The words were carefully chosen, the sentences flowed easily and, even if they didn’t, it felt like an intentional choice. The biggest issue that I could justifiably take with Instapoems is that they often come off as careless, universally-agreeable platitudes accompanied by art that took little practice or time.
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Though I’d like to imagine myself to be the arbiter of good poetry, art remains subjective. If we’re going to measure a piece of work’s merit off of the cultural impact it has made, Instapoetry would be the greatest subgenre of all. Rupi Kaur, arguably the mother of Instapoetry, has sold over 12 million copies of her poetry collections. Often, these books are bought by people who wouldn’t typically read poetry, introducing them to a form of literature they may have never discovered otherwise.
It’s also important to mention that many Instapoets are women and people of colour who may not have been given a chance in the traditional publishing world. By publishing their poems on social media, they’re able to make a voice for themselves. On top of that, the simple, short verses are accessible to those who may not speak English fluently or struggle with denser works.
All of this to say: you are allowed to disagree with me. As humans, most of the poems we read will be mediocre at best, with only a rare few that stir our hearts and leave us thinking about it for weeks. Unfortunately, those rare few will be different for everybody. If you find comfort in Instapoetry, keep reading it. I will never be one to tell you to stop engaging with what makes you happy. However, if you’ve never read anything but short, picturesque poems and are curious about the world beyond, then I welcome you to take a step in.
If you’d like to check out my poetry, you can do so here. If you’re looking for a place to start, I plan to publish a list of poets I admire and recommend–you can subscribe for free if you’re interested in receiving that and other works like this. What do you think? Is Instapoetry modernising the genre or destroying it? I’d love to hear your thoughts in the comments below.
so glad you wrote about this, instapoetry (especially that one u included here abt being hurt 217 times and those that are basically just tweets) is the bane of my existence
I bite my tongue often when I see Instapoems because my poetry isn't great either, but I can't lie a piece of me dies when I see an entire book of "he left me on read💔" getting hundreds of thousands of likes