Instapoetry vs. “Literary Purist” Verse: A Clear, Fair Way to Read Both (6-Point Checklist)
Not to pick a side—but to give you a simple, shared yardstick for talking about poems you see on Instagram and poems you find in journals or books. The checklist below helps you say why something worked (or didn’t) without shaming one tradition or worshiping the other.
How to use this guide
Read the poem once for feeling, once for craft.
Walk through the six checks in order.
Note one strength and one weakness. That’s it. No grades.
The six checks build on each other: voice → image → turn → music → risk → aftertaste. Once you can hear a voice, ask whether it shows you an image. When you can see something, look for the turn, etc.
1) Voice — Can You Hear a Person Speaking?
What this checks
Voice is the personality behind the words—confident, shy, playful, formal. If you can’t imagine someone saying the lines, the poem will feel generic.
How it might succeed
Instapoetry: direct address, diary-clear “I/you,” immediate tone.
Purist verse: a crafted persona, controlled distance, tonal shifts.
Example line (invented):
I kept the spare key you forgot to ask for back.
Walk-through
We hear someone wry and a bit hurt. There’s subtext (power, boundaries) without explanation.
Reader checklist
Can you describe the speaker in three words?
Could these lines belong to almost anyone? If yes, the voice is thin.
Common red flag
Poster-slogan language that sounds universal but says little.
Next question: If the voice feels real, can it show you something?
2) Image — Does the Poem Show You a Concrete Thing?
What this checks
Images turn feeling into something you can see, touch, taste. They keep a poem from floating away in generalities.
How it might succeed
Instapoetry: one clean image (a mug left cold, a locked phone).
Purist verse: a web of images that develops as the poem moves.
Example line (invented):
Your apology cooled on the table like tea nobody wanted.
Walk-through
We picture the table and the tea; “cooled” carries the feeling. The line avoids naming “sadness” or “disappointment”—it shows them.
Reader checklist
Name two nouns you can point to.
If you swapped the image (“tea” → “sunset”), would meaning change? If not, the image is decorative.
Common red flag
Pretty metaphors that could be traded for any other pretty metaphor.
Next question: Once an image is on the table, does the poem change?
3) Turn — Where Does the Poem Shift?
What this checks
The turn is the hinge: a surprise, a swerve in thought, a deepening. Without a turn, a poem repeats itself.
How it might succeed
Instapoetry: a mid-line pivot (“but,” “still”) or a reveal at the last line.
Purist verse: multiple small turns; an argument that revises itself.
Example line (invented):
I wanted closure—until I saw it meant you’d knock again.
Walk-through
The thought reverses: the speaker realizes “closure” requires renewed contact. That reconsideration is the turn.
Reader checklist
Point to the word/line where your understanding changed.
If every line restates the same point, ask: where should it turn?
Common red flag
A twist that just says the opposite of the opening without adding insight.
Next question: How does it sound when you read it aloud?
4) Music — What Does it Do to Your Breath?
What this checks
Music isn’t just rhyme. It’s rhythm, echoes (alliteration/assonance), pauses, and the way line breaks speed or slow you.
How it might succeed
Instapoetry: chant-like cadence, punchy line ends, spoken-word energy.
Purist verse: meter or “ghost-meter,” internal rhyme, enjambment that creates double meanings.
Example line (invented):
Slow shoulders, soft sorry—still, something stays sore.
Walk-through
The s-sound binds the line; the em dash creates a pause. The mouth feels the regret the line describes.
Reader checklist
Read it out loud. Did your pace change?
Do sounds help the meaning—or distract from it?
Common red flag
Forced rhyme (“heart/start/apart”) or, on the flip side, random line breaks that ignore any rhythm.
Next question: What does the poem risk saying or doing?
5) Risk — What’s on the Line Here?
What this checks
A poem should stake something: an honest admission, a formal challenge, a messy question. Risk is what makes the poem feel necessary.
How it might succeed
Instapoetry: naming a wound plainly; hitting “post” before the feeling is tidy.
Purist verse: taking on difficult form or ethics; undercutting the speaker’s self-image.
Example line (invented):
I said I forgave you so I wouldn’t have to change.
Walk-through
The speaker admits a selfish motive. That’s uncomfortable—and that discomfort gives the line weight.
Reader checklist
If you remove the riskiest line, does the poem still feel needed?
What could the poet lose by saying this?
Common red flag
Performative vulnerability (big feelings, zero consequence) or technique that hides the heart.
Next question: After you close the tab or the book, what sticks?
6) Aftertaste — What Lingers Ten Minutes Later?
What this checks
A poem doesn’t need fireworks; it needs residue. A line, image, or question that follows you.
How it might succeed
Instapoetry: one memorable line you want to text a friend.
Purist verse: an idea that keeps reframing itself as you think.
Example line (invented):
You taught me patience; I wasted most of it on you.
Walk-through
There’s a neat paradox and a little sting. The balance of idea and emotion makes it quotable and reflective.
Reader checklist
Without peeking, what do you remember?
Did the poem change how you think, even a notch?
Common red flag
Shock that fades on second read—or puzzle-box obscurity that never resolves into feeling.
Putting the Checklist to Work (Two Quick Demos)
Caption-style mini (4 lines, invented):
you kept the map
but not the road
i took the bus
and got home anyway
Voice: casual, defiant.
Image: map, road, bus—clear.
Turn: “but” pivots from loss to agency.
Music: small m/b echoes; tidy rhythm.
Risk: claiming independence (low-medium).
Aftertaste: “home anyway” sticks.
Why it works: Compact poem that nails voice, image, turn.
Page-leaning stanza (6 lines, invented):
I folded Sunday into the drawer with the linens,
let the sun bleach what I could not explain.
All afternoon the kettle practiced forgiveness,
steam tapping its lesson on the windowpane.
By evening I had learned to love the stain—
not for the mark, but for what it made me clean.
Voice: reflective persona.
Image: linens, kettle, steam—rich and linked.
Turn: “By evening…” shifts understanding.
Music: soft rhyme/cadence supports meaning.
Risk: admitting attachment to a “stain.”
Aftertaste: ethical reframe lingers.
Why it works: Layered poem that rewards re-reads; strong music and turn.
Neither example is “better” in all cases. Each succeeds on its own terms—and the checklist helps you say how.
Common Traps (and Quick Fixes)
Instapoetry trap: Big feeling, no scene.
Fix: add one concrete image and one turn.
Purist trap: Beautiful form, low stakes.
Fix: ask, “What am I risking if I say this plainly?”
Reader trap: Confusing “not my taste” with “bad.”
Fix: name the strengths and gaps (“Strong voice; weak aftertaste”).
Pocket Card (Save/Share)
Voice: Can I describe the speaker?
Image: Can I name two nouns?
Turn: Where did it shift?
Music: What did it do to my breath?
Risk: What’s on the line?
Aftertaste: What sticks ten minutes later?
Check Out Marjorie Gavan’s The Prelude Girl
If heartbreak and self-reckoning are your themes, watch how Marjorie Gavan’s The Prelude Girl scores on voice and aftertaste—clarity before comfort. It’s a good test-drive for the checklist you just learned.