Introduction
How does one define poetry? Is it by easily identifiable visual characteristics like shortened lines, stanzas, structure, or something auditory like rhythm or rime? Or something else entirely?
Some of our most famous poets had some very interesting definitions of poetry:
Robert Frost
"Poetry is when an emotion has found its thought and the thought had found its words."
Mary Oliver
"Poetry isn't a profession, it's a way of life. It's an empty basket; you put your life into it and make something out of that."
Dylan Thomas
"Poetry is what in a poem makes you laugh, cry, prickle, be silent, makes your toe nails twinkle, makes you want to do this or that or nothing, makes you know that you are alone in the world, that your bliss and suffering is forever shared and forever your own."
One of the primary objectives of this course is to develop our own personal definition of poetry, to gain an appreciation of poetry through the artistry of its makers, their creativity and usage of words, relish the interplay between truth and emotion, to develop our analytical and interpretive skills, but mostly we simply want to stand back and look at the ever-evolving definition of poetry, look at poets whose works helped both to create and to destroy definitions of poetry, works that shatter us to our core, force us to examine not only the world around us, but also turn that examination inward, upon ourselves, to discover our own personal truths and the beauty behind them.
In the preface to the second edition of their work Lyrical Ballads (1800), British poets Samuel Taylor Coleridge and William Wordsworth provided us with this definition of poetry:
"the spontaneous overflow of powerful feelings" [saying] that poetry should be written in "the language really used by men."
Poetry is meant to be evocative, or to evoke a response in its reader. Be it an emotional response like joy, sadness, regret; or, one of cognition and understanding, making a connection, and exploring our innermost thoughts and feelings; or, finally, finding a nugget of truth, of wisdom, of reality.
In 1991, poet and poetry critic Dana Gioia published an essay titled "Can Poetry Matter?" It sparked a quick and furiously divided response. Many in the poetry community felt Gioia had betrayed his livelihood, his "brethren" in poetics, and their brutal, initial responses reflected that sense of betrayal. Others, however, said Gioia made some very valid points regarding the current state of poetry and poetics; and hearing "the truth" about that sometimes hurts. This dichotomy, between the hard-liner of traditional poetry vs. the more modern, "hip" writers and scholars, led to a larger discussion of poetry in general.
Now joining the table discussions were those who were generally excluded from participation: those who didn't subscribe to "closed form" ideology, those who looked at the poem on the page as a work of visual "art" rather than something only to be read aloud; especially those for whom sound and authenticity were most important. Even the venues changed. Poetry was no longer confined to sophisticated readings in a lecture hall on a college campus; it was in smoky "dive bars" where "poets/performers" challenged one another on a stage in "poetry slams;" and in secondary schools, where students auditioned for a chance to be a state representative to the "Poetry Out Loud" national poetry recitation competition.