Do you read poetry? If you just answered in the negative, the next question is: Why not?
One reason that kept me away from poetry for decades was that during elementary school we were forced to memorize poems chosen by our teacher. Later years, after becoming entranced with the magic of poetry, I decided forced memorization initiated my long avoidance of poetry, good or bad.
In an unscientific survey of friends and my own children, I found accord in overwhelming numbers. Memorization can be a turnoff to whatever one's forced to implant on the brain.
James Tate, an outstanding contemporary poet, addresses the question in his poem, "Dream On," part of his latest collection, Shroud of the Gnome (Ecco Press, $23). He writes:
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"Some people go their whole lives without ever writing a single poem. . . These same people stroll into a church as if that were a natural part of life. Investing money is second nature to them. They contribute to political campaigns that have absolutely no poetry in them and promise none for the future." |
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"Why is it so difficult for them to see that, without poetry, their lives are effluvial." |
Tate sees poetry as an opportunity to "connect, reveal, explore, to imbue meaning on the day's extravagant labor."
Have you, for instance, read any of the poems of James Tate? Never heard of him? That's a problem facing today's poet. Tate has won major awards over three decades, including the Pulitzer Prize and the National Book Award. Yet, his total sales over that long career probably fail to equal one week's riches for Stephen King or John Grisham.
Poetry has the ability to tell us who we are, to give inspiration, to offer consolation. Poetry hands us the opportunity to explore ourselves, delve into those secret dark places in the recesses of imagination. Poetry can be magical, soothing, joyous, funny, and uplifting.
Go for the classics. Emily Dickinson's a good way to begin. Sample the sonnets of William Shakespeare, a magician with words. Explore the riches of contemporary poets, from Donald Hall to Hayden Carruth to the recently departed Denise Levertov. Look into the transporting verses composed by Jorie Graham, the angry rants of Allen Ginsberg, the amazing confessions of Anne Sexton.
Read a good book about poetry, such as Twentieth Century Pleasures (Ecco Press, $12.95), a collection of excellent essays by poet and critic Robert Hass.
If you want to write poems, a necessary read is The Art and Craft of Poetry (Writers' Digest Books, $19.99), one of the best guides to writing poems that I have ever encountered. Its author is Michael J. Bugeja, a professor at Ohio University in Athens and poetry columnist for Writer's Digest.
Michael Bugeja's sixth collection of poems, Talk (University of Arkansas Press, $18 cloth, $12 paperback), again displays the prodigious talents of a renaissance writer and teacher.
The poems collected here celebrate plain talk, when words change lives. There's no pretense, no bizarre allusions that mystify the reader. Bugeja writes with startling simplicity, delving into people and feelings with sharp understanding. In his stunning "Life Cycles," he writes about the loss of a child.
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". . . When their voices rise like birds, you think you hear the patter of their feet Echoing from the playground. Down the street The parents summon tardy children home. You think you hear the patter of their feet Outside your door. But they never come." |
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"These, the desolate dark weeks Of a suburban M.D. Who saves some people twice: at birth And middle age, with poetry, So death still has little meaning I associate it with metaphor; The canonized, the forgotten, The still sweet scent of Lenore." |
Talk is a superb piece of work, arguably the best yet from Michael Bugeja.
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