an item from
Defining Poetry
What is "poetry"? the "poetic"?
ARISTOTLE (from The Poetics):
"Imitation comes naturally to human beings from childhood; so does the universal pleasure in imitation.… We take delight in viewing the most accurate possible images of objects which in themselves even cause distress when we see them (e.g. the shapes of the lowest species of animal, and corpses). The reason for this is that understanding is extremely pleasant, not just for philosophers but for others too in the same way, despite their limited capacity for it. This is the reason why people take delight in seeing images; what happens is that as they view them they come to understand and work out what each thing is (e.g., `This is so-and-so.')"
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SAMUEL JOHNSON (from
Preface to Shakespeare): "The end of writing is to instruct; the end of poetry is to
instruct by pleasing."
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SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE (from Biographia Literaria): "A poem is
that species of composition, which is opposed to works of science, by proposing for its immediate
object pleasure, not truth; and . . . discriminated by proposing to itself such
delight from the whole, as is compatible with a distinct gratification from
each component part."
"The poet, described in ideal perfection, brings the whole soul of man into
activity, with the subordination of faculties to each other, according to their relative
worth and dignity. He diffuses a tone and spirit of unity, that blends, and (as it were)
fuses, each into each, by that synthetic and magical power, to which we have
exclusively appropriated the name of imagination."
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WILLIAM WORDSWORTH (from Preface to Lyrical Ballads): "Poetry
is the spontaneous overflow of powerful feelings: it takes its origin from emotion
recollected in tranquility: the emotion is contemplated till, by a species of reaction,
the tranquility gradually disappears, and an emotion, kindred to that which was the
subject of contemplation, is gradually produced, and does itself actually exist in the
mind."
"Poetry is the breath and finer spirit of all knowledge; it is the impassioned
expression which is in the countenance of all science. Emphatically it may be said of the
poet, as Shakespeare has said of man, "that he looks before and after." He is
the rock of defense for human nature; an upholder and preserver, carrying everywhere with
him relationship and love. In spite of difference of soil and climate, of language and
manners, of laws and customs: in spite of things silently gone out of mind, and things
violently destroyed; the poet binds together by passion and knowledge the vast empire of
human society, as it is spread over the whole earth, and over all time."
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e.e.cummings (from Three Statements):
"My theory of technique, if I have one, is very far from original; nor is it
complicated. I can express it in fifteen words, by quoting The Eternal Question and
Immortal Answer of burlesk, viz., "Would you hit a woman with a child? -- No, I'd hit
her with a brick." Like the burlesk comedian, I am abnormally fond of that precision
which creates movement."
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OWEN BARFIELD (from Poetic Diction):
"The poetic mood is kindled by the passage from one plane of consciousness to
another.... we know instictively that, if we are to feel pleasure, we must have
change."
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"A piece of writing is poetic when it:"
1. Sings
2. Moves
3. Shimmers
4. Cracks the whip
5. Has an undefinable "woo woo" quality
6. Recreates the early childhood pleasures of moon, Mom, and mud
7. Forces an epiphany
8. Imitates nature
9. Contains the music of plain speech
10. Marries sound and meaning
11. Just sounds good
12. Shatters self-important, secluded views of the world
13. Snaps you into a different state of mind
14. Sets off your indicator lights
15. Is the exact opposite of a gazebungle
16. Connects the reader with an interior "otherness," sort of like music
17. Brings the whole soul of man into activity
18. Offers the most accurate possible symbolic image of objects which when they are
actually seen cause distress (corpses, worms, etc.)
19. Instructs by pleasing
20. Proposes pleasure, not truth, as the immediate object of attention
21. Creates a sort of religious feeling
22. Is nothing else, so is poetic by default
23. Remembers things silently gone out of mind
24. Induces movement by precise expression
25. Transforms contemplated emotion into actual, felt emotion
26. Breathes the finer spirit of all knowledge
27. Looks before and after
28. Sees relationships and love everywhere
29. Binds together by passion and knowledge the vast empire of human society
30. Feels as if it was always intended to be written as a poem and does not
feel like prose in drag
31. Achieves a certain level of song that exceeds the limits of human language
32. Causes a crackling blue spark to arc from the page to the reader's mind
33. Purges pity and terror
34. Ritualistically recalls horrible memories in loving detail
35. Is news that stays news
36. Hits you with a brick
37. Lives beautifully for a moment and then dies
38. Burns for the joy of it
39. Rings your bell
40. Lifts you off
-- Douglas McGill
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"The Poet"
If there is a mirror the poet will always look into it
He makes certain whether or not he is a poet
Even if he reads poetry he doesn't know whether or not he's a poet
He firmly believes that if he looks at his face he can tell with a single glance
The poet is dreaming that one day
His face will be put on a stamp
He says he wants if possible to have his face on a really cheap stamp
Then he can have lots of people lick him
While his wife is frying some noodles
She has a sour puss
-- Shuntaro Tanikawa
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INTRODUCTION TO POETRY
I ask them to take a poem
and hold it up to the light
like a color slide
or press an ear against its hive.
I say drop a mouse into a poem
and watch him probe his way out,
or walk inside the poem's room
and feel the walls for a light switch.
I want them to waterski
across the surface of a poem
waving at the author's name on the shore.
But all they want to do
is tie the poem to a chair with rope
and torture a confession out of it.
They begin beating it with a hose
to find out what it really means.
-- Billy Collins
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THE POEM YOU ASKED FOR
My poem would eat nothing.
I tried giving it water
but it said no,
worrying me.
Day after day,
I held it up to the light,
turning it over,
but it only pressed its lips
more tightly together.
It grew sullen, like a toad
through with being teased.
I offered it all my money,
my clothes, my car with a full tank.
But the poem stared at the floor.
Finally I cupped it in
my hands, and carried it gently
out into the soft air, into the
evening traffic, wondering how
to end things between us.
For now it had begun breathing,
putting on more and
more hard rings of flesh.
And the poem demanded food,
it drank up all the water,
beat me and took my money,
tore the faded clothes
off my back,
said Shit,
and walked slowly away,
slicking its hair down,
Said it was going
over to your place.
-- Larry Levis
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THE MUSE
The Muse came pulling off her gown
and nine feet tall she laid her down
and I by her side a popinjay
with nothing to say. Did she mean to stay?
She smelled like flame; like starch on sweat;
like sperm; like shame; like a launderette.
No one, she said, has loved me right.
Day and night. Day and night.
-- Barry Spacks
