I thought Anne made an interesting comment in one of the critique forums that I wanted to see if there was any interest in exploring.
She said, "... at the very least a poem should show the speaker has learned something essential about life. If what your speaker has learned or not learned is to not have compassion for a dying person then there is no hope for mankind because poets are supposed to philosophically bring further beauty and meaning to an otherwise unkind world."
It made me reflect. Are we trying to bring beauty and meaning to an unkind world? Is that what my work does? Art can provoke and probably should provoke at times. Is provoking bringing beauty or meaning?
I'm not trying to lead this anywhere, just wondered what people's thoughts were on the topic. And if you agree or disagree with Anne's statement, this is really not invitation to pile on. I'm using it more as a jumping off point as I've pulled it from its immediate context.
I don't think there's a rule about what "poets" are supposed to do. In the example given, showing compassion to a dying person, revealing all the many reasons that might cause one not to have compassion, from self-absorption to envy of them being done with it and all the grays in between, are all fodder for art.
I think we all should try to make the world kinder, I don't see the burden on poets any more than plumbers. JMHO
billy wrote:welcome to the site. make it your own, wear it like a well loved slipper and wear it out. ella pleads:please click forum titles for posting guidelines, important threads. New poet? Try Poetic DevicesandWard's Tips
The purpose of poetry as described in pretty much every introduction to literature course ever:
To examine the human condition. To this extent it should explore, question and challenge all aspects of humanity. A reflection shows as much bad as it does good.
Should poetry discuss the negative aspects as well as the positive? Let's ask Housman
A. E. Housman (1859–1936). A Shropshire Lad. 1896.
LXII. Terence, this is stupid stuff
‘TERENCE, this is stupid stuff:
You eat your victuals fast enough;
There can’t be much amiss, ’tis clear,
To see the rate you drink your beer.
But oh, good Lord, the verse you make, 5
It gives a chap the belly-ache.
The cow, the old cow, she is dead;
It sleeps well, the horned head:
We poor lads, ’tis our turn now
To hear such tunes as killed the cow. 10
Pretty friendship ’tis to rhyme
Your friends to death before their time
Moping melancholy mad:
Come, pipe a tune to dance to, lad.’
Why, if ’tis dancing you would be, 15
There’s brisker pipes than poetry.
Say, for what were hop-yards meant,
Or why was Burton built on Trent?
Oh many a peer of England brews
Livelier liquor than the Muse, 20
And malt does more than Milton can
To justify God’s ways to man.
Ale, man, ale’s the stuff to drink
For fellows whom it hurts to think:
Look into the pewter pot 25
To see the world as the world’s not.
And faith, ’tis pleasant till ’tis past:
The mischief is that ’twill not last.
Oh I have been to Ludlow fair
And left my necktie God knows where, 30
And carried half way home, or near,
Pints and quarts of Ludlow beer:
Then the world seemed none so bad,
And I myself a sterling lad;
And down in lovely muck I’ve lain, 35
Happy till I woke again.
Then I saw the morning sky:
Heigho, the tale was all a lie;
The world, it was the old world yet,
I was I, my things were wet, 40
And nothing now remained to do
But begin the game anew.
Therefore, since the world has still
Much good, but much less good than ill,
And while the sun and moon endure 45
Luck’s a chance, but trouble’s sure,
I’d face it as a wise man would,
And train for ill and not for good.
’Tis true, the stuff I bring for sale
Is not so brisk a brew as ale: 50
Out of a stem that scored the hand
I wrung it in a weary land.
But take it: if the smack is sour,
The better for the embittered hour;
It should do good to heart and head 55
When your soul is in my soul’s stead;
And I will friend you, if I may,
In the dark and cloudy day.
There was a king reigned in the East:
There, when kings will sit to feast, 60
They get their fill before they think
With poisoned meat and poisoned drink.
He gathered all that springs to birth
From the many-venomed earth;
First a little, thence to more, 65
He sampled all her killing store;
And easy, smiling, seasoned sound,
Sate the king when healths went round.
They put arsenic in his meat
And stared aghast to watch him eat; 70
They poured strychnine in his cup
And shook to see him drink it up:
They shook, they stared as white’s their shirt:
Them it was their poison hurt.
—I tell the tale that I heard told. 75
Mithridates, he died old.
To ask all poets what poetry should be or do, is the same as asking all religionist what god is? However, if you want to learn something on this subject, do not look to poets; there are no great poets, only great poems. Look for the commonalities between the great poems. I think two of the more obvious are transcendence and universality, of course one needs to break them down into how they might present.
Dale
How long after picking up the brush, the first masterpiece?
The goal is not to obfuscate that which is clear, but make clear that which isn't.
From President Kennedy's speech about the late Robert Frost -
"When power leads man toward arrogance, poetry reminds him of his limitations. When power narrows the areas of man's concern, poetry reminds him of the richness and diversity of his existence. When power corrupts, poetry cleanses, for art establishes the basic human truths which must serve as the touchstones of our judgment.
The artist, however faithful to his personal vision of reality, becomes the last champion of the individual mind and sensibility against an intrusive society and an officious state. The great artist is thus a solitary figure. He has, as Frost said, "a lover's quarrel with the world." In pursuing his perceptions of reality he must often sail against the currents of his time …"
I remember listening to a radio broadcast of Kennedy's inauguration, and how it thrilled me to hear Robert Frost's
"A golden age of poetry and power
of which this noonday's the beginning hour..."
So yes, for me, to a huge extent, poetry is political.
"Art is anything you can get away with." - Marshall McLuhan (NOT Andy Warhol)
Trying to narrow art with altruistic, satanistic, Dionysianistic, hubristic,
nationalistic, and various other predjudalistic restrictions is futile.
Art will have its way.
Even the gods (except, of course, The Fates) are powerless.
Though, don't get me wrong, life is too long not to go on nattering
about art. Our every natter puts off the inevitable act of creation;
saves us from bringing yet more shame on our families.
ray
P.S. The above was a bit wordy, dale was more succinct:
"To ask all poets what poetry should be or do, is the same as asking all religionists what god is."
a brightly colored fungus that grows in bark inclusions
I don't care what a poem does or says as long as it says it in a fresh way. I tire of the same thoughts being regurgitated all over the page. Sure, it doesn't hurt if it makes me think, but I couldn't care less if I hate the N. or love him. I ran into interesting guy at a novel writing site a while back and i really enjoy him...anyway, here are his thoughts
Humans are political, so of course poetry is political. Poetry reflects back that aspect of ourselves to us, but also more of it's working than we are generally aware. Poetry reflects back to us our humanness, but without the delusional illusion of egotism we usually see ourselves through: it strips away falsehood and shows us the truth of how we actually are and the unsavory reasons that really motivate us.
Dale
How long after picking up the brush, the first masterpiece?
The goal is not to obfuscate that which is clear, but make clear that which isn't.
(05-07-2015, 08:36 PM)bena Wrote: I don't care what a poem does or says as long as it says it in a fresh way. I tire of the same thoughts being regurgitated all over the page. Sure, it doesn't hurt if it makes me think, but I couldn't care less if I hate the N. or love him. I ran into interesting guy at a novel writing site a while back and i really enjoy him...anyway, here are his thoughts
What does a poem do? What is the first thing it does? Take everything else away and what are you left with? It occupies time and space.
The function of
this poem is
to use up time.
There is no more.
This is the point to 'The Lowest Common Denominator'. The very least that anyone will do when reading a poem is use up time. Whether that becomes a waste of time depends on the individual. So I decided to write a poem that only set out to do that.
It admits up front what its function is. It does so mechanically, like a pre-recorded message. You could leave after the first stanza. You stay of your own free will. You have lost your time; the poem has it now and there are no refunds. You cannot appeal to a higher authority. You cannot ring me up and say, "Jim, could you change your poem so it does something else?" because that is all it was designed to do. Sorry.
The poem is a direct response to people who, after reading a poem or a story or interacting with any art form, come out with something like, "Well, that was a total waste of time." They annoy the hell out of me. Art requires time. Even more, it demands it. Before you get down to liking it or not liking it you have to be prepared to devote time to it. How much is up to you. As I walk around an art gallery I'll glance at every painting there but they do not all get the same amount of time. Some never get a second look. I make that call.
Think about that verb for a moment: devote. I chose it carefully. It has religious connotations, true, but the point I wanted to make was that poetry requires time specifically set aside for its appreciation. You can't have a poetry tape playing in the background while you work on your computer the way you can with music; there's no such a thing as background-poetry. Devotion also suggests zeal. You need to approach poetry with the right mindset. You need to be receptive, open.
billy wrote:welcome to the site. make it your own, wear it like a well loved slipper and wear it out. ella pleads:please click forum titles for posting guidelines, important threads. New poet? Try Poetic DevicesandWard's Tips
(05-07-2015, 10:12 PM)Grace Wrote: I found an article (below) that asks the question "Should poems tell the truth". I found it interesting reading, so thought would share it. G.
That was a good article. It reminded of a poem I wrote that had some pretty intense parts to it, but what surprised me was the part that people got most pissed off about (I'm not talking about any critique just reaction). Here are the lines that people couldn't get their head around.
I write lies that might be true, but
still lies. Memories that aren’t as clear as I remember but are somehow more true.
~~~ Out of context, its so minor. A lot of people seem to have this idea that poets have to be truthful. They get angry when they're not.
(05-07-2015, 10:12 PM)Grace Wrote: I found an article (below) that asks the question "Should poems tell the truth". I found it interesting reading, so thought would share it. G.
That was a good article. It reminded of a poem I wrote that had some pretty intense parts to it, but what surprised me was the part that people got most pissed off about (I'm not talking about any critique just reaction). Here are the lines that people couldn't get their head around.
I write lies that might be true, but
still lies. Memories that aren’t as clear as I remember but are somehow more true.
~~~ Out of context, its so minor. A lot of people seem to have this idea that poets have to be truthful. They get angry when they're not.
I think the following is an example of a poem that was written to invite the reader to find a truth (or not).
Is this a category of poem?
The Journey
One day you finally knew
what you had to do, and began,
though the voices around you
kept shouting
their bad advice--
though the whole house
began to tremble
and you felt the old tug
at your ankles.
"Mend my life!"
each voice cried.
But you didn't stop.
You knew what you had to do,
though the wind pried
with its stiff fingers
at the very foundations,
though their melancholy
was terrible.
It was already late
enough, and a wild night,
and the road full of fallen
branches and stones.
But little by little,
as you left their voices behind,
the stars began to burn
through the sheets of clouds,
and there was a new voice
which you slowly
recognized as your own,
that kept you company
as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world,
determined to do
the only thing you could do--
determined to save
the only life you could save.
There are two separate purposes, one for the reader and one for the writer.
The purpose of reading poetry is to entertain, to enlighten, to expand the mind and gain perspective. Different people, different tastes, different poems will have different effects, therefore there are multiple purposes.
The sole purpose of writing poetry is to learn to do it well enough that you can have an entire conversation in sonnets about hairy armpits and bestiality.
(05-08-2015, 05:23 AM)Leanne Wrote: There are two separate purposes, one for the reader and one for the writer.
The purpose of reading poetry is to entertain, to enlighten, to expand the mind and gain perspective. Different people, different tastes, different poems will have different effects, therefore there are multiple purposes.
The sole purpose of writing poetry is to learn to do it well enough that you can have an entire conversation in sonnets about hairy armpits and bestiality.
I would hate to see a volta in that Sonnet. It would probably put me on an FBI watch list.
(05-08-2015, 05:23 AM)Leanne Wrote: There are two separate purposes, one for the reader and one for the writer.
The purpose of reading poetry is to entertain, to enlighten, to expand the mind and gain perspective. Different people, different tastes, different poems will have different effects, therefore there are multiple purposes.
The sole purpose of writing poetry is to learn to do it well enough that you can have an entire conversation in sonnets about hairy armpits and bestiality.
the purpose of poetry is to be a leaf in a storm or a kiss on an apple, it's purpose is to be poetry, to make the reader say "that's a good piece of poetry" while the content may or may not be dark or bad or happy or funny in any and all combinations it needs to be good in order to have purpose. without a certain quality, poetry become text. the beauty of poetry is you can write as a killer, be an actual killer while writing something loving, you can even be a lump of wood. for me poetry is there to expand the imagination. to capture you and hold you so close you struggle to breathe. poetry creates or should create a virtual reality the reader can be part of; if only for a short while. those of us who read poetry will have a few special poems that do just that (grip us) not that i am by any means erudite in the study of poetry or poems. for me, some music has that same grip you feeling; desiderata, stoned love, pusherman, long after tonight is all over. just a few. the difference with poetry is that i actively search out new poems and poets to read. with music i casually wait till i hear something new. i used to actively search music out but now it's poetry. any kind as long as it's good,
Todd - did you read this article before it was even written?
"Unless you’re actually planning to become an author – and the only money these days seems to be in crime drama or fantasy – knowledge of poetry is practically useless, in the sense that it has no impressionable market value. As the writer Hugo Williams once put it: “To devote a life to poetry looks to most people like a decision to ignore the benefits of modern life, in particular the power of money to effect any meaningful progress. It looks suspiciously like sulking.”"
