Part of the tertiary press conference that I attended last Dec. 3-6 was a lecture about poetry. I was excited. Maybe I could learn some things about writing in rhymes, about measure, tone, imagery, symbolism and all that stuff.
The first part of the lecture was interesting enough. But when the discussant started to expound on poetry, “poetry is blah, blah, description… exposition… blah….zzzzzzzz….slurrrppppp….poetry……isms………ers……adskhaiorwghao…….”
“For example:
The Red Wheel Barrow
So much depends
The first part of the lecture was interesting enough. But when the discussant started to expound on poetry, “poetry is blah, blah, description… exposition… blah….zzzzzzzz….slurrrppppp….poetry……isms………ers……adskhaiorwghao…….”
“For example:
The Red Wheel Barrow
So much depends
upon
a red wheel
barrow glazed with rain
water
beside the white
chickens.
William Carlos Williams (1883 - 1963)
U.S. poet, novelist, and physician.
“Picture the image of the red wheel barrow, so vivid, so colorful. The color of the wheel barrow its imagery, the language, it’s so real. The red wheel barrow is red as you can see, but it’s also in the wheel barrow where the chicken is beside it—its red.”
“As you can see poetry is all about image, its all about beauty. Blah, blah, blah.”
U.S. poet, novelist, and physician.
“Picture the image of the red wheel barrow, so vivid, so colorful. The color of the wheel barrow its imagery, the language, it’s so real. The red wheel barrow is red as you can see, but it’s also in the wheel barrow where the chicken is beside it—its red.”
“As you can see poetry is all about image, its all about beauty. Blah, blah, blah.”
In the end, I came to the realization that studying poetry is like dissecting a frog. You can see the organs, the innards, the heart pumping, the lungs expanding, and when you begin to understand the intricacies of the organism, you killed it.
Just read and write poetry, it’s enough.
(I have nothing against the lecturer and she’s one fine lady, and I know deep in her heart all she wants was to spread the appreciation of poetry. She delivered a fine lecture. The problem is me.)
(I have nothing against the lecturer and she’s one fine lady, and I know deep in her heart all she wants was to spread the appreciation of poetry. She delivered a fine lecture. The problem is me.)
2 comments:
i totally agree about frogs and poems. in dissecting something, you cease to experience it as directly. it becomes mostly a thing in your mind rather than a thing that is part of your whole being. the dissected frog is not a frog - the real thing is slimy and hops and croaks and catches flies with its tongue. you have to find poems in their natural habitat to appreciate them.
so true
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