To Read and To Write
POETRY is a big word, in both denotation and connotation. Hours of classroom time and reams of thesis papers have been wasted in the attempt to analyze, categorize, classify, and define it. Rhyme, rhythm, diction, subject ... since before written language, from nonsense through ritual and history, folk songs, epics, in all languages, the list of schools and variations in form is too long to contemplate. However many attempts are made, full agreement is not likely.
At a poetry reading discussion conducted by a fine poet, editor and professor of creative writing, I was astounded to hear him say that rhymed poetry is not poetry, "only verse." It was neither the time nor the place to engage in a furious debate in spite of my yearning to do it. Later, after I regained my sense of humor, I decided that poetry is indefinable, like pornography: we know it when we see (or hear) it
I suspect that like most of the English-speaking population of the US, anyone reading this essay almost never reads poetry. Even though the statistics on the number of Americans writing poetry are mind-boggling; even though this town of 18,000 has well-attended readings. (I think a couple of dozen in an audience for a poetry reading could be considered well-attended). The nearest small city has a monthly event just for poets and poetry readings that averages 35 or more at meetings in a coffee shop downtown. As for the predictable college towns and big cities — I can’t even guess at the activity just in our state.
The North Carolina Writers Network lists dozens of venues every month for a reading, discussion and book-signing — specifically for poetry. I suppose that means that at least some of those poets are being published. Whether any of them sell more than two or three books even at a well-attended event like public library talks and signings at chain book stores is another question.
I have to ask: who has read a poem in the past year? I mean, if you’re paging through a magazine or having a look at a website and see something that on the page looks like a poem as opposed to prose, did you read it?
Having fallen in love with poetry again so late in life, I began to consider ideas about what most of us haven’t given a thought to since we sat in an English class, possibly as far back as high school, not just about reading poetry, but (seriously!) about writing it as well.
If the specter of ingenious rhymes and lilting rhythms makes you cringe at the thought of trying to write something to compete with those masters who managed them seemingly effortlessly, try to banish it. Even though you would never want to admit certain intense experiences in declarative sentences, in the guise of poetry, there is a way to relieve and relive them. Giving vent to a poem feels similar to the suspension of inhibitions resulting from therapeutic massage. Both are quite capable of releasing long-pent tears.
In addition to the fashion for Oriental forms like tanka and haiku, there are no longer limits or lack of respect for free verse. What it takes to get started is a willingness to stop being literal and start being physical and dreamy and above all, observant. From the strict conventions of drama and epic that date from ancient civilizations through all the permutations of forms from villanelle, heroic couplets, and on and on, poetry has changed at least as much as prose. Free and blank verse (never mind the technical distinction) are now the norm. That is not to say there are not whole societies dedicated to the sonnet.
Today’s fashion is most often distinctly personal rather than abstract or persuasive. The personal requires a flexibility and freedom from older conventions for most people to be willing to try to unburden themselves. Poetry has become more accessible (in the sense that it requires no educational expertise to understand and appreciate it). It provides the possibility of self-expression outside the bounds of statement.
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