While poetry isn’t my favorite medium, it will always hold a special place in my heart. Edgar Allen Poe’s Alone speaks to me in ways few other works ever have. The Battle Hymn of the Republic by Julia Ward Howe gets my heart pounding with its haunting lyricism and captivating imagery.
Poetry in itself is a small miracle, able to impart a whole cornucopia of emotion in such a small amount of time.
That being said, my appreciation of poetry has waned over the past few years and I think it may have something to do with how much it has changed.
It’s not like I didn’t expected poetry to evolve.
The world is becoming a different place and, as such, the arts are destined to change with it lest they become irrelevant.
It was destined to leave the loving arms of William Carlos Williams and Emily Dickinson to make its own way in the world.
But post-modern poetry is like a child from a super-protective household that became hooked on cocaine in college and drop out to live in a Los Angeles slum.
Some of the more recent poems I’ve seen published in books and lit mags don’t even seem like they should count as poetry. This may sound harsh, but hear me out.
I willl come–
like this for
no particular reason
that breaks off at
They are so distracting visually it’s impossible not to imagine William Shatner narrating them.
I realize “free-verse poetry” is a thing, but shouldn’t there be some logical structure? If not, aren’t the words just floating around aimlessly?
Often times there will be no rhyme scheme or word-pictures to make them pop either so my mind instantaneously purges them as soon as I’m done reading.
I literally cannot remember these poems five minutes after I’ve read them.
When the poet does attempt to create a word-picture, the metaphors tend to be so muddled and confusing I honestly have no idea what they are talking about.
Is that meant to be part of the fun? Just figuring out what the poem is supposed to be about? The titles are no help either. A poem that details a burning forest could be called “Tapioca Pudding.”
Is that in reference to the fire reducing everything to sludge? Is that the color of wood after it has burned?
I’ve taken many an English class, studied the creative arts year after year, yet I’m no closer to determining if these poems are deep or dumb.
Do I just not “get” it?
Oh God, am I a boomer?
Then….. there’s slam poetry.
Slam Poetry has been around since the 80s, but it has risen to prominence over the last decade, especially in academic circles and….I’m not entirely sure why. Perhaps all the political and social issues of the day have inspired creatives to take to the stage to express their angst in a more public forum.
Regardless of how much passion or earnestness is put into the construction of these pieces….can we admit that it’s super corny 99.9% of the time?
It’s not necessarily the poems themselves. It’s a combination of the half-baked stanzas with overly-dramatic readings that would give an acting coach a hernia.
I can’t think of a single one I’ve witnessed that didn’t make me want to chloroform myself mid-performance.
I understand how important your subject matter is, but saying something dramatically does not make it deep. If I recited I’m a Little Teapot while doing interpretive dance, it’s not going to give the song a new meaning. It’s still about a teapot being short and being tipped over to pour liquid in a cup for someone to drink.
…Now I want someone to write a slam remix of I’m a Little Teapot. It would have made that awkward Ashley Judd poetry reading way more interesting.
For those of you that write and enjoy post-modern poetry, I’m genuinely happy for you.
I am pleased that you can derive meaning from something and be inspired to create as a result of it.
But I think I will continue to appreciate your passion from far, far away.