On poetry
07/02/16 05:11
I’m no poet. I’ve tried my hand at the art form, but as you can tell from reading my blogs, what I do most is write essays. That has been true for a long time. Back in the 1970’s poetry was all around. Publishers were selling small volumes of poetry and advances in color printing allowed less expensive production of books of color photographs and/or artwork with poems. These books were often chosen as gift items and sold relatively well. Not all of the poetry was of lasting value, but there were plenty of people trying their hand at poetry.
We had a teacher, in those days, who pushed his students to write poetry. “Trim down your words, empty and economy of language, eliminate the trivia, go for the essential.” He had at least two volumes of poetry that were published before we began studying with him. And his poetry was good. I still use his words, most commonly in wedding ceremonies. I tried to follow his advice. I’d roll a sheet of paper into the typewriter. (Yes we used a manual typewriter for all of our graduate school writing.) I’d eliminate articles and work hard to just make the few words on a page carry meaning. I survived the classes I took from that professor. I earned acceptable grades. But I never learned to write poetry.
I didn’t develop an appreciation for poetry until decades later. These days, however, poetry is an important part of my reading and seeking to understand the world. It is an art form for which my taste was slowly acquired. I think of poetry quite a bit these days. I still haven’t found it to be among my gifts when it comes to writing, however.
I have been slowly wandering my way through a compilation volume edited buy Jennifer Bartless, Sheila Blac and Michael Northen titled “Beauty is a Verb: The New Poetry of Disability.” The volume, in addition to being a collection of poems by poets living with disabilities, has a significant amount of commentary on poems and interpretation of the works printed.
I am not convinced that there is a separate genre of disability poetry. Like other arts that are created by persons with all kinds of differing abilities and disabilities, it is nearly impossible to determine how much of the art is defined by the limitations of the artist. I walk through the Suzie Cappa Art Center in our town and am struck not with disability, but with the ability of the artists. At the Suzie Cappa Art Center, I know many of the artists. It is obvious which ones use wheelchairs for mobility, which ones have challenge with speaking, and which ones live with disabilities that are easily visible. But I don’t see their artwork as a separate category. It is simply good artwork, deserving to be displayed in homes and salaries alongside the work of others whose abilities and disabilities are much less visible.
Part of me wants to declare, “Art is art.” Period. Poetry is poetry. I do not need to know the disability status of the poet to enjoy the poetry.
The editors of the book, however, assert that knowing about the poets’ disabilities can add to the meaning of the poetry, revealing hidden depths that might be missed by those who do not know the details of the lives of the poets. They have a point. But there are many poets whose work I appreciate without knowing much about the lives of the poets.
There are poets, such as Emily Dickinson, who are so famous that it is virtually impossible to avoid learning the details of their lives. Even if one never read any of the hundreds of books and essays about Emily Dickinson, it would be hard to avoid knowing something about her that doesn’t come directly from her poetry. The story of how her poems came to be published and gained their popularity is interesting. There are some poets, like Robert Lax, whose work came to me only because I learned about the author from another context. I discovered Lax through the back door, first reading about him in a book by Thomas Merton and later enjoying Michael McGregor’s excellent biography. But there are plenty of other poets whose work I have appreciated, but about whose lives I know little.
Disability status is such a wide spectrum affecting so many people that it is hard to view it as a single category. Virtually all of us will experience some form of disability at some point in our lives. If we are honest, most of us have some disabilities around which we work every day. It just takes one accident or illness to radically shift one’s disability status.
I’m not denying that there are those whose struggles with disabilities are more intense than the majority. I’m not denying that there is significant discrimination against those who suffer disabilities. I know that finding employment and suitable housing can be a significant challenge for persons with particular disabilities.
There may be a unique quality to poetry produced by those who have had disabilities that limit or create barriers to the use of language. There are particular brain disorders that make speaking difficult or impossible for some people. There are people whose minds are thinking complex and intricate thoughts that cannot be communicated to many people, especially those who don’t take the time to learn to listen. Perhaps there is something in the nature of a communication disorder that creates a unique ability in the use of language and enables a depth of poetry that might not be available to those for whom communication comes easily. I just don’t know for sure.
So I’ll continue to think about and enjoy poetry created by those living with disabilities. Who knows, It may contain keys to meaningful living for myself when at some future point I lose some of the abilities I currently possess.
Heck, I might even learn to write poetry before this life’s journey is complete. Don’t hold your breath, however, it still seems that I’m not likely to become a poet.
We had a teacher, in those days, who pushed his students to write poetry. “Trim down your words, empty and economy of language, eliminate the trivia, go for the essential.” He had at least two volumes of poetry that were published before we began studying with him. And his poetry was good. I still use his words, most commonly in wedding ceremonies. I tried to follow his advice. I’d roll a sheet of paper into the typewriter. (Yes we used a manual typewriter for all of our graduate school writing.) I’d eliminate articles and work hard to just make the few words on a page carry meaning. I survived the classes I took from that professor. I earned acceptable grades. But I never learned to write poetry.
I didn’t develop an appreciation for poetry until decades later. These days, however, poetry is an important part of my reading and seeking to understand the world. It is an art form for which my taste was slowly acquired. I think of poetry quite a bit these days. I still haven’t found it to be among my gifts when it comes to writing, however.
I have been slowly wandering my way through a compilation volume edited buy Jennifer Bartless, Sheila Blac and Michael Northen titled “Beauty is a Verb: The New Poetry of Disability.” The volume, in addition to being a collection of poems by poets living with disabilities, has a significant amount of commentary on poems and interpretation of the works printed.
I am not convinced that there is a separate genre of disability poetry. Like other arts that are created by persons with all kinds of differing abilities and disabilities, it is nearly impossible to determine how much of the art is defined by the limitations of the artist. I walk through the Suzie Cappa Art Center in our town and am struck not with disability, but with the ability of the artists. At the Suzie Cappa Art Center, I know many of the artists. It is obvious which ones use wheelchairs for mobility, which ones have challenge with speaking, and which ones live with disabilities that are easily visible. But I don’t see their artwork as a separate category. It is simply good artwork, deserving to be displayed in homes and salaries alongside the work of others whose abilities and disabilities are much less visible.
Part of me wants to declare, “Art is art.” Period. Poetry is poetry. I do not need to know the disability status of the poet to enjoy the poetry.
The editors of the book, however, assert that knowing about the poets’ disabilities can add to the meaning of the poetry, revealing hidden depths that might be missed by those who do not know the details of the lives of the poets. They have a point. But there are many poets whose work I appreciate without knowing much about the lives of the poets.
There are poets, such as Emily Dickinson, who are so famous that it is virtually impossible to avoid learning the details of their lives. Even if one never read any of the hundreds of books and essays about Emily Dickinson, it would be hard to avoid knowing something about her that doesn’t come directly from her poetry. The story of how her poems came to be published and gained their popularity is interesting. There are some poets, like Robert Lax, whose work came to me only because I learned about the author from another context. I discovered Lax through the back door, first reading about him in a book by Thomas Merton and later enjoying Michael McGregor’s excellent biography. But there are plenty of other poets whose work I have appreciated, but about whose lives I know little.
Disability status is such a wide spectrum affecting so many people that it is hard to view it as a single category. Virtually all of us will experience some form of disability at some point in our lives. If we are honest, most of us have some disabilities around which we work every day. It just takes one accident or illness to radically shift one’s disability status.
I’m not denying that there are those whose struggles with disabilities are more intense than the majority. I’m not denying that there is significant discrimination against those who suffer disabilities. I know that finding employment and suitable housing can be a significant challenge for persons with particular disabilities.
There may be a unique quality to poetry produced by those who have had disabilities that limit or create barriers to the use of language. There are particular brain disorders that make speaking difficult or impossible for some people. There are people whose minds are thinking complex and intricate thoughts that cannot be communicated to many people, especially those who don’t take the time to learn to listen. Perhaps there is something in the nature of a communication disorder that creates a unique ability in the use of language and enables a depth of poetry that might not be available to those for whom communication comes easily. I just don’t know for sure.
So I’ll continue to think about and enjoy poetry created by those living with disabilities. Who knows, It may contain keys to meaningful living for myself when at some future point I lose some of the abilities I currently possess.
Heck, I might even learn to write poetry before this life’s journey is complete. Don’t hold your breath, however, it still seems that I’m not likely to become a poet.