Jay Parini, Why Poetry Matters
Where has poetry gone?
Oh, fads and fashions. Poetry was once a dominant art form and ordinary people memorized long stretches of Tennyson... or Keats... It wasn't Pound's fault, forgodssake, there'd always been 'difficult' poetry, but a change most likely brought about by the expansion of the media through radio, silent movies, records... and so on.
Whereas once people were brought to their feelings - ok, ok, interjection - I do believe that we watch movies, read books, etc. to feel, that we want to feel our feelings strongly in safe ways and we do this through our art- the best art calling out the best in us -
And of course our art teaches us about our history and our culture -
Whereas once people were brought to their feelings by the graceful language of poets, they are now brought to the currents moving within by the heart awakening blinding lyrics of a music of so many strains and varieties and so rich across the globe it makes you want to weep.
That's where poetry went, into song -
The poetry that stayed on the page became for an in-focus group of mainly other writers and students/academics, which is fine, we live in a complex society made up of many, many groups all carrying and exploring different facets of the rich world we live in.
If poets want to be heard by the great and massive public again, really & truly turn to the old forms of the troubadour: let the music of language sing.
If most poets are quiet and solitary by nature, then let their beautiful words of pain and ecstasy be sung by those who can.
What I'm saying is that the art form evolved into something more expansive and larger, and many musicians really need the half decent lyrics that on-page poets could provide if they would share.
Perhaps it's like the miser holding on to the goldmine sitting in the corner commiserating on the dearth of poetry! Rich gold veins of poetry in our world are of inestimable worth but they need to be shared, given, offered, allowed to go out freely into the world, circulated, this currency of the heart, used.
Sheath of feeling. Words groping to touch air.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Woman with Flowers 7.1
(7th sketch in series, first iteration of this one) Woman with Flowers Flowers, props upholding the woman. The flowers, fragrant, imaginar...
-
The Buddha says: “ You cannot travel the path until you have become the path itself .” The path is uncertain. Uncertainty is the guiding for...
-
What if relationships are the primary ordering principle? What if the way relationships are ordered clarify, explain, and instruct us on th...
-
"I hope you are all creating every day according to the inner map you were born with. I know it sometimes seems that map is written in ...
Oh, this is so true. So true, indeed! You have placed the evolution of Poetry into our present times and this is such a composition of insight.
ReplyDeleteIn a trunk of my father's things, there were notebooks scribbled from Poetry classes when he was in grammar school. The Poems must have touched him, else he would never have kept the notebooks. Then, again, he had his favourite poets and sometimes he would read them aloud on a warm Summer's evening. He had a voice for reading Poetry and did it very well. His favourite poet was Robert Service.
Blessings,
Myna