A pantoum is a poem built from repeating whole lines. Lines 2 and 4 of each stanza become lines 1 and 3 of the next, so the poem moves forward by looping back. It traditionally uses four-line stanzas with an ABAB rhyme, though many modern pantoums drop the rhyme and keep only the repetition.

How to Write a Pantoum: Repetition That Builds Meaning

Q: How many stanzas does a pantoum have?

There is no fixed number. A common choice is four to six quatrains, which is long enough for the repetition to build meaning without becoming hypnotic. The final stanza usually reuses lines 1 and 3 from the opening stanza so the loop closes where it began.

Q: Does a pantoum have to rhyme?

Traditional pantoums rhyme ABAB in every stanza, but rhyme is optional in contemporary practice. Because the repetition already creates strong sound patterning, many poets drop rhyme to avoid a singsong effect and to let the repeated lines carry the music instead.

Q: Should repeated lines be identical?

Exact repetition is the standard, and the slight shifts in meaning come from the new context rather than from changing the words. Small adjustments to punctuation, tense, or a single word are acceptable when a line genuinely needs to land differently, but wholesale rewriting defeats the form.

A pantoum is a poem made almost entirely of repeated lines. Lines 2 and 4 of each four-line stanza become lines 1 and 3 of the next, so the poem advances by circling back. The form looks mechanical on paper and feels anything but once it is read aloud: each return lands differently because the lines around it have changed. This guide covers the pattern, a worked example, and the two mistakes that sink most first attempts.

What a pantoum actually is

The pantoum came to English poetry by way of Malay and French forms, and the version most writers use today keeps one rule and one option. The rule is interlocking repetition. The option is rhyme.

The pattern across two stanzas looks like this, with letters standing for whole lines:

Stanza 1: A B C D Stanza 2: B E D F Stanza 3: E G F H

Read the second line of a stanza, then look at the first line of the next. They are the same sentence. The fourth line becomes the third line below it. If you drop rhyme entirely, the repetition is the only scaffold, and that is fine; several contemporary anthologies print unrhymed pantoums without comment. If you keep rhyme, the traditional scheme is ABAB in every quatrain.

How the loop closes

Most pantoums end by returning to the opening. The last stanza reuses line 1 and line 3 from the first stanza, usually as the second and fourth lines of the final quatrain, so the poem finishes with a phrase the reader has heard before but now understands differently. That return is the emotional payoff: the repetition has been accumulating pressure for four or five stanzas, and the closing echo releases it.

You do not have to write the ending that way. Some poets stop cleanly on a new line instead of looping, which can feel abrupt in a useful way. But if you are learning the form, close the loop first. It teaches you to plan the opening lines for the sake of the final stanza.

A worked example

Here is a short pantoum about a bus stop at the end of a shift. The repeated lines are set in the order the form requires.

The last bus idles with its doors still closed. I count the coins I did not spend today. The streetlight leans a little toward the road. Nobody here is waiting for my name. I count the coins I did not spend today. A driver checks the mirror, then the clock. Nobody here is waiting for my name. The engine keeps a rhythm I can hear. A driver checks the mirror, then the clock. The streetlight leans a little toward the road. The engine keeps a rhythm I can hear. The last bus idles with its doors still closed.

Notice what happens to "Nobody here is waiting for my name." In the first stanza it is a plain statement of fact. By the second appearance it sits beside a driver checking the clock, and it starts to sound like resignation. Nothing in the line changed; the context did. That is the whole engine of the form.

How to draft one, step by step

Choose a subject that can tolerate repetition. Pantoums suit obsession, routine, grief, waiting, and return: material where saying the same thing again is the point. They fight against subjects that demand forward plot.
Write the first stanza as four plain sentences. Resist imagery for now. Each line should be able to stand alone, because each will appear in two different places.
Build stanza two from lines B and D. Write two new lines, E and F, to fill the gaps. This is the hardest step; the new lines must make the borrowed lines mean something new.
Continue the interlock. Keep pulling the second and fourth lines down. If a line refuses to fit in its new position, edit the line rather than breaking the pattern, at least until the draft is complete.
Close the loop. Reuse the first stanza's lines 1 and 3 in the final quatrain, then read the whole poem aloud to check that no line has become dead weight.
Revise with the ear, not the diagram. Trim repeated lines that no longer earn their place, and consider cutting a stanza if the poem starts to coast.

If you want a second form that also leans on repetition but with more room for variation, compare this with the overview of the pantoum's structure and history and the stricter, rhyme-driven villanelle. Both reward the same skill: making a line survive being said twice.

Two mistakes beginners make

1. Writing lines that only work once

The most common failure is a first stanza so specific that its lines cannot function anywhere else. If line B says "my brother called at seven," the poem is stuck with that fact in both positions. Broaden the line: "the phone rang before I was awake." Now it can carry different weight an hour later.

2. Letting the repetition do the work

A pantoum that only repeats is a metronome. The poem needs the new lines, E and F in each stanza, to push the thought forward while the repeated lines hold it in place. If your new lines are interchangeable filler, the form has nothing to build on. Draft them with the same care as the opening.

When the draft is finished, treat the revision as a separate job: read it aloud, mark every place your attention drifts, and cut. Our guide to revising a poem covers that pass in detail, and if you need material to start from, these poem writing prompts for beginners include several situations that suit a repeating form.

Frequently asked questions

What is a pantoum?

A poem built from repeating whole lines. Lines 2 and 4 of each stanza become lines 1 and 3 of the next, so the poem moves forward by looping back. Traditional pantoums use four-line stanzas with ABAB rhyme; many modern ones keep only the repetition.

How many stanzas does a pantoum have?

There is no fixed number. Four to six quatrains is a common choice: long enough for the repetition to build meaning, short enough to avoid hypnotic drift. The final stanza usually reuses lines 1 and 3 from the opening stanza.

Does a pantoum have to rhyme?

Traditional pantoums rhyme ABAB in each stanza, but rhyme is optional now. Because the repetition already creates strong sound patterning, many poets drop rhyme to avoid a singsong effect and let the repeated lines carry the music.

What is the hardest part of writing a pantoum?

Writing lines that make sense in two different contexts. A line must work where it first appears and again two stanzas later. Draft the plainest possible sentences first, then test each repeated line in both positions before polishing.

Should repeated lines be identical?

Exact repetition is the standard; the shifts in meaning come from the new context, not from changing the words. Small adjustments to punctuation or a single word are acceptable when a line genuinely needs to land differently, but wholesale rewriting defeats the form.

One last pass

Write a pantoum when you have something that keeps coming back: a habit, a worry, a place you pass every day. Draft the first quatrain in plain sentences, pull those lines down through the stanzas, close the loop, then cut anything that stopped earning its repetition. The form is not a puzzle to solve correctly; it is a way of letting one sentence mean two things.