What is it...

[billy]

in poetry that makes it beautiful?

i know many will say it's what's in the reader, and yes i agree, but there has to be something; there lurking or in full view, within a poem that makes it special. when i say beautiful i don't mean pretty. i mean wondrous, amazing, disturbing etc.

[abu nuwas]

Someone (Gandhi?) called poetry 'the music of the soul'. That's a bit high falutin' for me, but it does suggest that it is the quintessence of something, which can, like music, appeal, and speak, to various parts of us, both going through, and leaping over, our rational, cognitive, mind. Oratory does the same, though it is in sad decline. Churchill's speech about 'We shall fight them on the beaches' did not only ask people to fight on beaches, landing-grounds, and never surrender. It does not just contain defiance and courage; the delivery itself speaks to unsayable things. Undoubtedly, Hitler had ,for his audience, the same quality, and in our times, George Galloway, a man I detest on many fronts. Each of course is different, but they share, I think, the ability to combine their words, sounds, variations, rhetorical tricks, and meanings from which different groups will take what they want, to get directly to the heart.

As with orators, so music is quite different: different genres, different pieces within a genre sung or played by different artists. How can it be that I love old-time blues singers like Bessie Smith, and at the same time, be moved almost to tears by some simple piano playing, Chopin, say? Or a soprano singing , as I have just heard, "L'amour est un oiseau rebelle", from Bizet's "Carmen"?The same is true of art, and sculpture. There are too many: I like Kandinsky, but also Jackson Pollock. In a little gallery quite nearby, the oldest in the world, (Dulwich Picture Gallery) and it has some serious Old Masters, including a couple of little Raphaels-- not the most wonderful, but wonderful enough---but what have any of these in common with Goya's terrifying sketches, or Hieronymus Bosch? I think I must back-track: think of the scene in "Four Weddings and a Funeral" where WH Auden's "Stop all the Clocks" is read. It is the 'music of the soul', and as for music, it is the poetry of the soul, and for the other arts , you may take your pick.

[billy]

a good summation.
i agree it's more than just one thing. i think music speaks on a different level or in a different language. while music supposedly soothes the beast. i'm not sure poetry does would do so for many of the beasts i know. without hearing music a piece can sound beautiful. a poem on the other hand often only seems beautiful to someone who's into poetry (vocalised poetry may be different or have an added edge) it seems to me that poetry or the love of it is an acquired taste. the love of music is often instant.

jackson pollack was someone i wasn't keen on and a week or so ago i got to see some full size poster of his latest exhibition. ranging in size from very small to very large, and i was truly impressed. but i failed to see beauty as such, more well presented piece of craft.

[rayheinrich]

  Three tiny poems about beauty:



        < beauty >
     
     is the stuff you like
     
     but have forgotten 
     
     why
     
          - - -
     
     
     
     
     
        < beauty >
     
     this writing we do
      
     is not owned by Exxon Mobil
     (or Barclays or China or Google)
     
     though it would be
     
     if it were useful
     if it were valuable
     
     which is the beauty of 
     
     this writing we do
     
          - - -
     
     
     
     
        < beauty >
     
     they're shipping back 
     box after box of it
     
     too much
     
     there's too much 
     on the market
     
     and nothing
     
     just nothing 
     
     to use it for
     
          - - - 

[billy]

normally the mod in me would say 'stay on topic' but your poems serve a purpose.
in them i see no beauty seriously. while i enjoyed them they were beautyless.
i suppose because of this we should try and define what beauty in poetry is. i'm not sure i can though.
no, please don't post all the beautiful poems you can all think of. a line or two maybe. with a reason why.

i remember reading a poem about a soldier coming back, or not coming back from the iraq war (i can't remember which) by the end of it i had visible tears on my cheeks. of course it was emotional blackmail in words but they were profound enough to make me cry. another is the pieces of heart story, come prose poetry where an old man heart is made up of little pieces blah blah blah... they were fairly cheap poems in the literary sense but expensive emotionally. for me they had some kind of beauty.

[rayheinrich]

The poems were "on topic" as they were comments on "beauty".
They weren't intended as examples of it; though, it seems to me,
that would be "on topic" as well.

The first poem was on the subjectivity of "beauty". The second
two were about "beauty" as a commodity.

It seems to me that the 'beauty' in poetry is the same 'beauty' that's
found everywhere else. And, as the first poem said, beauty is evoked
by something you liked for a specific reason (or your parents or
society or evolution did and you learned it from them/it/it). Later,
having forgotten the reason (or having never known it), you are left
with just the feeling. (Like learning to catch a ball, after a while you
don't have to think about it.)

Beauty is probably a positive motivator like the taste 'sweet', and like
the negative 'pain' and taste 'bitter'. We evolved to be able to feel it
because it helped us survive.

P.S. There's no reason that comments, especially on a 'poem' site, need
to be in prose.

[billy]

i said they were on topic, stop bullying me.

i took em as examples because there was nothing to say otherwise, (sorry)
as for comments not being in prose, i agree though a poem if used as a reply it needs some kind of
modifier (explanation) to it's intent otherwise it can just look like a poem in a discussion thread.
back on topic;

i like the taste insights, personally i think we all carry certain buttons within us that when triggered in a certain sequance make us see beauty or greatness. i think poetry has the ability to hit those hidden buttons.

[rayheinrich]

"i took em as examples because there was nothing to say otherwise"

will try to be more literal next time. i did add a bit to explain, though,
come to think of it, if we're about poems and all we should be about
interpreting and not wanting everything served up easy. more fun
that way.


"i like the taste insights, personally i think we all carry certain buttons within us that when triggered in a certain sequence make us see beauty or greatness. i think poetry has the ability to hit those hidden buttons."

yes, one of it's specialties; though it's a shotgun, not a rifle most times.








[/quote]

[abu nuwas]

"i took em as examples because there was nothing to say otherwise"

will try to be more literal next time. i did add a bit to explain, though,
come to think of it, if we're about poems and all we should be about
interpreting and not wanting everything served up easy. more fun
that way.


"i like the taste insights, personally i think we all carry certain buttons within us that when triggered in a certain sequence make us see beauty or greatness. i think poetry has the ability to hit those hidden buttons."

yes, one of it's specialties; though it's a shotgun, not a rifle most times.

[/quote]

But you cannot use muddled language to produce an exegesis for another muddle. At some point, you must use speech of the most plain sort. Otherwise, you might as well leave the original muddle to speak for itself.

Of course, I use 'muddle' as short-hand for poetry or other writing, which is ambiguous.

The shot-gun is very true. Music is not good for me: some music is, and the like with poetry, and the other arts. In many cases, I would pay not to be exposed to them. Sometimes, it is a case of 'needs must' -- as when a woman-friend was determined to see, and make me see, an Andy Warhol exhibition, which put me off before I entered, by informing me that it would 'make me think'. I cannot say what it made me think, unfortunately, but it left a deep scar. And she was quite nice too.

[rayheinrich]

"But you cannot use muddled language to produce an exegesis for another
muddle. At some point, you must use speech of the most plain sort.
Otherwise, you might as well leave the original muddle to speak for itself."

Of course you can (or, at least, I can). And 'muddle' DOES make you think
(if you're inclined to). Of course, the thinking that ambiguity necessarily
encourages can't be controlled that well. So, sure, I can make you think;
I just can't predict very well what you'll be thinking about. Pictures of
kittens are easier than Mark Rothko's painting: "Orange and Brown". Oh,
wait... judging from your Warhol remark, I guess that Rothko* would make
your thoughts easier to predict.

And, for all you topic police out there, this directly (and in speech of the
most plain sort, by the way) illustrates the problem with infinitely
muddled concepts like "beauty".

* Not that I'm a big Rothko fan; I like my muddles shaken, not stirred.

[Leanne]

Two things. One, it's much harder to explain poetry in prose, but we should all attempt it at least once because an explanation in poetry is no explanation at all, merely a subjective invitation to the reader to sort it out for him/herself whereas prose is far more didactic and makes a somewhat more structured argument, which is probably why debates are rarely conducted in poetry Of course, some political debates in particular may be called poetry in that they say very little but the reader (listeners are readers too) does all the interpreting through that filter of what he/she wants to hear or has already decided... to the typical idiot voter, one amphigouri is much the same as another. Ahem. Anyway, it's a challenge to order one's thoughts about poetry into a coherent prose argument, and it's an argument that's been raging for centuries. That doesn't make it any less valid today and who knows, one of us might come up with the answer that shuts up all the critics... then they'll piss off and start picking on reality tv like they should.

Two. If the respondent considers that the best response to a previous comment is in the form of a poem, so be it. I have had many an argument on other sites that forbid poetry of any kind in certain areas, most especially those that are specifically for the discussion of poetry, which seems ironic at best. Although it is my personal preference to see prose dominate these discussions because I do think it makes a better argument (see above), I don't mind at all if a short poem or two makes its way here to illustrate a point, provided the thread does not become a showcase.

[Todd]

It's like explaining a joke. If I have to explain why a poem is beautiful it's likely that it won't convey to the other person.

For me it's the imagery, the observations, and the condensed power of the language.

[Leanne]

It's EXACTLY like explaining a joke, but I never thought of it that way, thanks Todd!

I can't remember who said "poets let us see windows where we only saw walls" -- but it's up to the reader to decide which angle he/she looks through that window, so everyone's view is going to be slightly different.

[abu nuwas]

"But you cannot use muddled language to produce an exegesis for another
muddle. At some point, you must use speech of the most plain sort.
Otherwise, you might as well leave the original muddle to speak for itself."

Of course you can (or, at least, I can). And 'muddle' DOES make you think
(if you're inclined to). Of course, the thinking that ambiguity necessarily
encourages can't be controlled that well. So, sure, I can make you think;
I just can't predict very well what you'll be thinking about. Pictures of
kittens are easier than Mark Rothko's painting: "Orange and Brown". Oh,
wait... judging from your Warhol remark, I guess that Rothko* would make
your thoughts easier to predict.

And, for all you topic police out there, this directly (and in speech of the
most plain sort, by the way) illustrates the problem with infinitely
muddled concepts like "beauty".

* Not that I'm a big Rothko fan; I like my muddles shaken, not stirred.

Would you try the muddled system of explaining, when dealing with a life or death situation, say, like how the nuclear button works? No. But in some strange way it is good for explaining other things.

As for the bloody Warhol thing, no, I like Warhol; I did not need to be told that this exhibition would make me see him as I had never done before, which was another part of the advertising blurb. Sorry that my muddled explanation did not make this clear. It consisted of a handful of 'works' which the great man must have desperately hoped would never see the light of day, scribbles, but mainly bank upon bank of monitors, with people sitting reverently in front of them, while Warhol, and some of his buddies mumbled, and then laughed hysterically. While they were lounging around in The Factory, they can never have dreamed that they would be taken so seriously by so many, in such quiet. It was not a case of the Emperor's new clothes: it was more a case of the Emperor's 40-year old underpants. But I fear we shall not agree.

[Leanne]

To try and quantify beauty is difficult and risks destroying that beauty -- as Kierkegaard said, "once you label me, you negate me". We have, as a society, "standards of beauty" that I find so horrendously insulting and narrow-minded that I almost invariably go out of my way to avoid buying into them, particularly since the moment something is labelled "beautiful" because it's "unique", there are a million and thirty-two carbon copies available instantaneously so that the beautiful becomes the utterly mundane.

Poems are a little like people. There are some that many will agree are beautiful because they appeal to a broader cultural aesthetic -- and there's nothing wrong with that -- but there are some that only a few readers will love and that love is more difficult to explain. That doesn't make it less real.

Some poems will evoke a very strong reaction in me, beyond any rationality. I can write entire essays on how much I adore Baudelaire or Rimbaud, but doing so makes me feel sullied, as if I'm just breaking them down into components (I fell in love with him because of the hairs in his nose/ I love the way his little finger looks against a teacup). When someone asks me why I enjoy them so much, I'd rather just answer "because I do", then suggest they read them too -- if their reaction is different, I'm not offended. Similarly, when someone asks me why I hate Billy Collins with such a passion, I could go on for hours but just thinking about it makes me ill, so I'd rather just answer "because I do" and move on to the whisky.

[abu nuwas]

To try and quantify beauty is difficult and risks destroying that beauty -- as Kierkegaard said, "once you label me, you negate me". We have, as a society, "standards of beauty" that I find so horrendously insulting and narrow-minded that I almost invariably go out of my way to avoid buying into them, particularly since the moment something is labelled "beautiful" because it's "unique", there are a million and thirty-two carbon copies available instantaneously so that the beautiful becomes the utterly mundane.

Poems are a little like people. There are some that many will agree are beautiful because they appeal to a broader cultural aesthetic -- and there's nothing wrong with that -- but there are some that only a few readers will love and that love is more difficult to explain. That doesn't make it less real.

Some poems will evoke a very strong reaction in me, beyond any rationality. I can write entire essays on how much I adore Baudelaire or Rimbaud, but doing so makes me feel sullied, as if I'm just breaking them down into components (I fell in love with him because of the hairs in his nose/ I love the way his little finger looks against a teacup). When someone asks me why I enjoy them so much, I'd rather just answer "because I do", then suggest they read them too -- if their reaction is different, I'm not offended. Similarly, when someone asks me why I hate Billy Collins with such a passion, I could go on for hours but just thinking about it makes me ill, so I'd rather just answer "because I do" and move on to the whisky.

I very much agree with your last para, save that I prefer Armagnac. It might depend a little on whom I was speaking to, but to me it resembles telling someone about an idea or plan which I have, which is only in nascent or embryonic stages. The mere act, or fact, of telling seems to have the effect of deflating the thing, exactly like pricking a balloon.

Then there are poems which I am happy to speak about, and if there is something which on top of everything, is unsayable, I just tend to assume, despite knowing that it is not necessarily so, that the other person will pick up what I do.

I think your quote from Soren describes people, in part. I do not think it goes any further. If we had no labels, we should have no words, which would be a handicap. But even if everything in the world were labelled, humans, so far, would be incapable of retaining all the words. So for all of us, there great, unlabelled gaps, and for me, these always get more interesting when they touch on the interfaces of things, or of the real and unreal.

As for standards of beauty, they are paradoxical. On the one hand, there is the jolly old Zeitgeist whirling around the world, at ever greater speed, and with ever greater penetration. On the other, there are a number of old and hallowed things, which are taken as standards of beauty, almost without question, e.g., the Sistine Chapel.

I think, as it happens, that in a way, these were reflected in the 'Hollow Men' desire for tradition, contrasted with fragmentation, and change. Crikey, I've got serious, and unlike you, no Armagnac....

[Leanne]

The reason I think the Kierkegaard quote is pertinent to poetry -- or indeed to all art -- is that art is an expression of the deeply personal. In effect, a poem is a person on a page for all eternity, or as long as it takes to scrunch it up for toilet paper I don't believe labels equate to words, it's the kind of words that worry me. For example, on some poetry sites when you post a poem they recommend that you also put it into a category -- I have always refused to do this. Categories seem flippant, a dismissal of any other possible reading.

If a poem is posted for critique or workshopping, I'm delighted to take it to pieces or have the same done to one of mine. In that crucial stage, breaking it into parts will ensure that the finished product is as flawless as possible -- however, once a poem is to be read for poetry's sake alone, I want to bloody well enjoy it (or hate it) and explanations be damned!

---

PS. There can be no Armagnac in evidence on Burns Night you know...

[abu nuwas]

The reason I think the Kierkegaard quote is pertinent to poetry -- or indeed to all art -- is that art is an expression of the deeply personal. In effect, a poem is a person on a page for all eternity, or as long as it takes to scrunch it up for toilet paper I don't believe labels equate to words, it's the kind of words that worry me. For example, on some poetry sites when you post a poem they recommend that you also put it into a category -- I have always refused to do this. Categories seem flippant, a dismissal of any other possible reading.

If a poem is posted for critique or workshopping, I'm delighted to take it to pieces or have the same done to one of mine. In that crucial stage, breaking it into parts will ensure that the finished product is as flawless as possible -- however, once a poem is to be read for poetry's sake alone, I want to bloody well enjoy it (or hate it) and explanations be damned!

---

PS. There can be no Armagnac in evidence on Burns Night you know...

About words and labels: I think it reasonable to say that nouns, pronouns, verbs, adjectives and adverbs have a labelling effect. If I chatter away to you about 'my friend' and then throw in 'she' you are entitled to an 'aha!' moment: I have told you what my friend is not. But if you collect you kids from school, and someone refers to you as 'a mum' it says you are not some other relation, but leaves a whole blank canvas for the rest of what you. A few more words wibbll rough out a picture; but inevitably, no-one, not even the person themselves, can draw a complete picture. Extended to poetry, I see this. I does not much concern me, perhaps because there are relatively few people whose opinions I value-- notwithstanding that one gets insights from everywhere.

Yes, and one must enjoy what one enjoys, no matter what. I have never understood why people poke fun at others who say "I don't know anything about Art; but I know what I like." Why would they not? Should they somehow contrive to like something they are told to like--- for example, a second-rate Warhol exhibition?!!!

[rayheinrich]

abu said:"While they were lounging around in The Factory, they can never have dreamed
that they would be taken so seriously by so many, in such quiet. It was not a case of the
Emperor's new clothes: it was more a case of the Emperor's 40-year old underpants.
But I fear we shall not agree."

We agree perfectly on that one. And yes, I misunderstood your Warhol remark.

P.S. Have some comments on what you and Leanne have been talking
about as well... maybe after feeding the cats and the dog and the wife

[Leanne]

Don't feed the cats and dog, they'll eat your wife and you'll have all the time in the world to share your opinions

Warhol has suffered a bit of a Shakespearean pomping-up, I fear. It seems to be impossible these days to consider either of them -- and they're not alone in that rarefied company -- as humans having a little bit of fun with pen or paintbrush. If one dare suggest that the great gods of Art were prone to farting in bed or spraying hot tea through their nostrils, one is immediately subject to much pooh-poohing from the cognoscenti. And one doesn't want that, does one?