"Instructions on Not Giving Up" is a fourteen-line poem, all one stanza, and on the page, it appears in a block of fairly uniform lines. These hints may get our poetry senses tingling and lead us to ask a very worthwhile question: is this a sonnet?
At first glance, there is no rhyme scheme, and the lines do not follow a consistent iambic pentameter of ten syllables each. Both are formal hallmarks of a sonnet. However, with closer inspection, we can gain new appreciation of this poem by exploring just how Ada Limón is using and building on the sonnet form, even as she departs from its stricter conventions.
While rhyme and iambic pentameter are the best-known sonnet rules, historically, there are two other characteristics of a sonnet that we should consider here:
1. The sonnet form often makes an argument; that is, the poem drives towards some kind of rhetorical point, often using rhetorical devices and syntax carefully along the way.
2. Sonnets feature a volta, or turn, a line break or sentence break where the poem shifts towards its rhetorical conclusion (the way an essay might).
There are two most common places for a volta in a sonnet: at line nine (heading into the last six lines of the poem), or at line thirteen (heading into the final couplet of the poem). These fit into the two most traditional sonnet rhyme schemes, which are the Shakespearean sonnet rhyme scheme (ABAB CDCD EFEF GG) and the Petrarchan sonnet rhyme scheme: (ABBA ABBA CDECDE)
Both schemes can be subdivided into units of 4, 4, and 6, offering the chance for a volta at line 9. The Shakespearean sonnet additionally presents the option of a turn at line 13 heading into the final couplet.
While Limón is not using any rhyme scheme in "Instructions for Giving Up," we can see how she uses suspenseful syntax throughout the poem to make a rhetorical argument, and we can see distinct voltas around—you guessed it—lines nine and thirteen.
The suspenseful syntax (sentence structure) used in the first eight lines contributes greatly to the effect of this poem as a rhetorical argument. We begin with not one, but two dependent clauses marked by the phrase "more than," building tension throughout the long first sentence that is only relieved (temporarily) in line six. The three distinct clauses (two dependent, then one independent) in the opening sentence are marked below, and we can see how they make us wait for the sentence's main point:
[1] More than the fuchsia funnels breaking out
of the crabapple tree, [2] more than the neighbor's
almost obscene display of cherry limbs shoving
their cotton candy-colored blossoms to the slate
sky of spring rains, [3] it's the greening of the trees
that really gets to me.
Then, Limón repeats this process, setting off the next sentence with a dependent clause: "When all the shock of white...". Lines seven and eight continue with dependent clauses that continue to describe the strewn flowers. We finally arrive in line nine to this sentence's surprisingly simple independent clause: "the leaves come."
Compare this to the Romantic poet John Keats's famous sonnet, "When I have fears that I may cease to be." Keats' sonnet is an exceptional example of suspense created by dependent clauses. Note, in Keats's sonnet:
When I have fears... [line 1]
When I behold... [line 5]
And when I feel... [line 9]
—then on the shore of the wide world I stand alone... [lines 12-13]
Keats's when / when / when / then construction creates, and finally relieves, a highly deliberate tension, like the paragraphs of an essay. Moreover, Keats's poem is all one long sentence! Limón does a subtler yet masterful version of this, weaving dependent clauses with "more than" and "when" into her first eight lines.
This suspenseful syntax is the necessary buildup to the first volta, or turn, in "Instructions," which we reach at line nine:
the leaves come. Patient, plodding, a green skin
By making us wait this long to have our attention turn towards and stay focused on the leaves, the thing she really cares about in this poem, Limón makes this turn all the more satisfying and well-earned.
Compare this to William Shakespeare's Sonnet 18, "Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?" Shakespeare spends the first eight lines of his sonnet describing why a summer day is not actually a great comparison for his love: summer is too short, too hot, and all natural beauty fades. Likewise, Limón spends her first eight lines describing why spring flowers are not much of an inspiration for her. Shakespeare then arrives at line nine:
But thy eternal summer shall not fade,
Bolded are the words that signal we've reached a volta, a rhetorical turn in the argument. For the rest of his poem, Shakespeare describes why, unlike summer, his beloved's beauty will last forever. Ada Limón spends the rest of hers describing why, unlike the flowers, the spring leaves are a true lesson in resilience. Eight lines of negation build towards a climax; the resolution is six lines of powerful, positive conclusion.
In addition to this turn in line nine, at "the leaves come," Limón has a subtler rhetorical turn in lines twelve into thirteen:
the mess of us, the hurt, the empty. Fine then,
While she has just been describing the pain and desolation she feels, the speaker now turns defiantly towards her final statement of strength: "Fine then, / I'll take it." This volta comes at the same spot as in Keats' sonnet above: the lead-in to the final couplet.
Lastly, it is worth noting that a few lines of "Instructions on Not Giving Up" do follow a ten-syllable meter, including the important first and fourteenth lines. Stressed syllables are bolded below, and the rhythm is marked with slashes:
More than / the fu / chsia fun / nels brea / king out
This opening line is almost true iambic pentameter, except that the unit (or "foot") comprised of the first two syllables is a trochee (stressed - unstressed) rather than an iamb (unstressed - stressed).
un furl / ing like / a fist, / I'll take / it all.
The ending line is perfect iambic pentameter: five units of an unstressed syllable paired with a stressed syllable, for ten syllables total.
While Limón likely decided that a more traditional rhyme and meter scheme would be too restrictive for this poem, and indeed would be an outlier in the contemporary poetry world that favors free verse, these hints indicate how she was drawing and building upon the sonnet form.
Even if the similarities to a sonnet remain completely subconscious to a reader, they help us glimpse why the poem feels so complete, and why it succeeds so well in its bold, compassionate argument for human survival.
