How to Read Poetry

[jerry]

I've long wondered how poetry is supposed to be read. Many poems I encounter come off as esoteric or downright bizarre in their almost seemingly random word choice and choppy constructions. Now, I'm not trying to bash poetry by any means. I wish only to understand it. I read often from critics of the sheer brilliance of classical poets, such as Shakespeare, Dickinson, Eliot, and Frost, but when I actually get to reading the poems, I more often than not sit and wonder what it is the critics have found so special about them. It's an essay like Thomas Howard's The Good Doctor Donne (insidecatholic.com/Joomla/index.php?option=com_content&task=view&id=4978&Itemid=48), which I first read in the March/April 2009 issue of StAR, that instills hope there really is beauty and genius to be found in poetry.

Having just received my first issue of Dappled Things in the mail yesterday, I'd like to come to some clearer understanding of the poetry. What should I keep in mind as I read it? What should I look for? And, for poetry in general, should modern poetry be read differently than the classical variant?

[pauls]

Hi jerry,

While you can't go wrong reading Thomas Howard, it seems you're in a position in which it might be best to forget reading the critics of poetry (which sort of also means forgetting about poetry) and simply read the poetry. Don't worry about it not clicking with you, or that it seems too obfuscating.

That's alright. That's allowed. That will change. What's not allowed is forcing comprehension. Poetry demands your 'entire being' as it were. And that is something that cannot be prepared for. So, first thing, don't look for anything, and don't keep much in mind beyond what sensitivity you already have. Sensitivity too will change.

Start by reading Beowulf. Stay away from the moderns, for now; not because they're too complex, but simply because they have their foundations in the classics, even when they are rebelling against them. Don't fret overly much about complicated passages when you come across them in works like The Divine Comedy.

I don't think Dickinson, Eliot and Frost are classical, though their poetry is definitely based on the classical. Our reading should likewise be based on the classical.

Hope this helps somewhat,

Paul.

[pauls]

But of course, reading 'the moderns' in the likes of Dappled Things is much recommended!

[pauls]

Sorry for a third successive posting. I wanted to add, since you have clearly already read various works, that there can also be a level of comprehension that is not always detectable in the immediate consciousness, or emotionally. Poetry is that deep-reaching. So just keep reading it.

[bluemaydie]

Jerry--

Personally, I stay away from most of the moderns. If I can't get SOMETHING out of it at first glance, I don't read it a second time. Poetry, while full of mystery, is meant to unfold the mysteries, not further obscure them. And I say this as someone who writes poetry (and as someone who wrote her undergrad thesis on E.E. Cummings. Hah!). If the author is the only one who can understand the symbolism or syntax, it needs to stay in his diary; it's not a public document.

Needless to say, T.S. Eliot drives me crazy.

Heck, I sometimes give up on the DT poems.

Look, in order to read, there shouldn't have to be a list in your head of things to keep in mind. What you should keep in mind is what's (probably) already there: your education, your faith, your knowledge of history and how the world works. Classical writing is easier to read if all of those are pretty well developed. Why? Because you wind up with something like the same mindset those writers had, or at least a glimpse into it.

Real poetry will speak to you as a person--whether it's written in prose or verse--not as a critical reader equipped with a list of modern standards for poetic interpretation. Poetry is, after all, one of the oldest forms of communication. It's a way to reach into people and teach them when they aren't trained in the art of book-learning. All primitive cultures, as far as I know, have poetry. So don't worry about having the proper critical faculties or keeping "the right" things in mind. Just be a person looking at the world with eyes of love and wonder. If the poetry can't make sense to love and wonder, it's probably not worth puzzling over. And don't worry about liking "the right" poems or authors. That's just more critical standards to wade through.

As for how to read a poem: slowly. Read it through slowly the first time. If it isn't making as much sense as you think it should, try reading it aloud. This is especially good for reading Shakespeare--remember, he was a dramatist, and wrote language to be proclaimed. Also great for reading rhyming verse. Reading aloud can help you realize the music and beauty of the language in a way that silent reading often misses. Read the poem, then stop and turn over the images in your mind. Read it again. If it's growing on you, shut the book and read it again the next day. If it's only getting worse, turn the page.

Not all poems--not even all famous or published poems--are really poetry.

Hope this helps.

Kate

[bluemaydie]

BTW, out of sheer, howling curiosity, what poems have you read that you especially liked or that spoke to you? Perhaps people here can recommend similar poems or authors to feed your poetic brain.

Kate

[jerry]

Thank you both for your wisdom. I never had a formal education on poetry (Is there such a thing?), so bear with me here.

"If the author is the only one who can understand the symbolism or syntax, it needs to stay in his diary; it's not a public document."

Hence, why I said in my post that a lot of poetry I encounter seems awfully esoteric. Free verse compounds the problem.

The words "classic" and "great works" have always held this mystique for me. If a poem or novel is considered among the greatest, I can't help but wonder what people have seen to declare them as such. I want to see what they see, and when I fail to see anything of value, it doesn't take much to surmise I'm probably doing something wrong. Even if I don't like the same work that others do, I at least want to understand why the classics are so respected.

"BTW, out of sheer, howling curiosity, what poems have you read that you especially liked or that spoke to you? Perhaps people here can recommend similar poems or authors to feed your poetic brain."

Great idea. Here are a few poems that have resonated with me:

- The Oven Bird, by Robert Frost (www.bartleby.com/119/9.html)
- Reluctance, by Robert Frost (www.bartleby.com/117/32.html)
- Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening, by Robert Frost (www.online-literature.com/frost/751/)
- "What lips my lips have kissed, and where, and why", by Edna St. Vincent Millay (www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/15420)
- Sonnets XVIII and XXIV, by William Shakespeare (www.bartleby.com/70/index1.html)
- Betrayed by a Kiss, by John Savoie (You may recall that it's in the latest issue of Dappled Things.)

I'd appreciate any poetry recommendations.

[cristina]

A book I'd recommend:

www.amazon.com/Sound-Sense-Introduction-Laurence-Perrine/dp/0155826107/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1256733864&sr=8-1

[katycarl]

This is an awesome discussion!

Here are a few more poems -- three by Gerard Manley Hopkins:

Hurrahing in Harvest, www.bartleby.com/122/14.html
Spring and Fall, www.bartleby.com/122/31.html
"Thou art indeed just, Lord, if I contend", www.bartleby.com/122/50.html

and one by Keats:

Keats, "When I have fears that I may cease to be", www.bartleby.com/126/52.html

[jerry]

Katy: I read over your poem recommendations several times. I'm afraid the Gerard Manley Hopkins poems, the first two in particular, were very difficult for me to follow. Only the third poem was I able to get a fairly good idea of what Hopkins was trying to express. But the Keats sonnet is quite beautiful. Perhaps it's because I can relate to it. It speaks, at least to me, of an awe and love for the mystical beauty to be found in the universe, and a desire to glean an understanding of it. Thanks for sharing!

Pauls, Cristina, thanks for the book recommendations. They're now on my book list.

[Bernardo]

Jerry, thanks for starting this thread, which I think many people can identify with. I don't really have much to add except to say that you are right the Hopkins poems can be hard, but they are ones that I really do recommend you try to spend time with, reading them slowly, paying attention to the beautiful ways in which he manipulates sounds, and trying to unwind the phrases and the constructions that sometimes may seem quite strange. Take for example the word he creates to describe a bird in The Windhover: "dapple-dawn-drawn Falcon." At first it sounds like alliterative nonsense. But give it a second, look at it again.

Of course, I wouldn't recommend you start with The Windhover when first approaching Hopkins. It can still be a hard poem. Have you tried his more familiar ones? Here are some of them:

God's Grandeur: eminently accessible yet it stands up to many re-readings.

Pied Beauty: this poem is particularly close to our heart here, as it gave Dappled Things its name.

As kingfisher catch fire, dragonflies draw flame: this is one of my favorites. It is very philosophical, really, exploring the relationship between activity and identity, but going well beyond that. Plus it's just really beautiful.

Hope you enjoy these!

[meredith]

Jerry - maybe I'm not the best person to give you advice, because we seem to want very different things from poetry. At least on the surface.

When I read a poem for the first time, I enjoy it before I understand it. Or I don't enjoy it, and so I drop it and go on to something else. My first rule for reading poetry tends to be:

1. Read what you like. Ignore what you don't like.

Now, if Shakespeare, Dickinson, Eliot, and Frost fail to please--if all four fail to please--I will admit that you may need to learn HOW to like them. Still, be aware that many people like Shakespeare and Frost (but not Eliot), or Eliot and Frost (but not Dickinson), etc. Seamus Heaney (fabulous modern Irish poet; won a Nobel some years ago) said in a speech that he first loved Keats and Hopkins and Chaucer and Frost, then later Elizabeth Bishop and Wilfred Owen and others - but that for various reasons he missed out on Emily Dickinson and Eliot and others, because something in his education and upbringing and surroundings made them hard to get into. There's no law that you have to like every great poet. And I don't believe in making yourself like things just because "everyone else" likes them.

"Many poems I encounter come off as esoteric or downright bizarre in their almost seemingly random word choice and choppy constructions."

I eat, drink, and breathe poetry to an unhealthy degree; and I *totally* agree with this statement of yours. Many poems are BAD. Or at least so-so; and the so-so poems are not going to survive in the long run. You are right to be skeptical about most of the stuff that is being written in our time. Most of it is is not immortal. That's how it's always been.

I agree with everything Kate said, actually! I feel kind of silly, because I'm about to start going over everything she already said. There's one thing, though - Shakespeare. How to read Shakespeare. He is the greatest English poet, but he CAN be very difficult... so in his case, it's worth studying him to get more out of him. He'll repay the effort.

So: why don't you just start with the poems you like and read more by the same authors? Read more Frost, more Millay. The odds are that you'll find other poems you like.

Rule 2: Put down the critics. Pick them up again when you want to learn more about a poem that already speaks to you somehow.

[katycarl]

Yes to everything Meredith said.

Speaking of Millay, here are some of my favorites of hers:

"Thou art not lovelier than lilacs": www.bartleby.com/131/18.html
"Time does not bring relief; you all have lied": www.bartleby.com/131/19.html
"Bluebeard": www.bartleby.com/131/23.html
"God's World": www.bartleby.com/131/4.html

[meredith]

And thanks for the Thomas Howard essay. I always like reading him. He wrote a book (Dove Descending) which actually explains TS Eliot's "Four Quartets"... that takes mad skills.

[meredith]

I am going to try to answer your shrewd questions about Dappled Things... I think they are important.

"Having just received my first issue of Dappled Things in the mail yesterday, I'd like to come to some clearer understanding of the poetry. What should I keep in mind as I read it?"

Keep in mind that no one we publish is Immortal, Great, or Indispensable. Not yet, anyway. Some of our authors have collected more prestige than others, but you shouldn't open the magazine with the idea that you MUST LIKE EVERYTHING or else go back to reading Dan Brown. Quite the contrary. A lit mag helps poetry to get out there and find readers and, if it is good, to go onto the next stage. Whatever that is. A book, usually; and hopefully a book that more than 300 people want to buy and read. And for more established writers, it's a nice way to send fresh morsels of writing to your fans in between books. (When I find a poem by AE Stallings in *Poetry,* I always feel like someone has left a rosebud in my mailbox.)

I think that's how it works.


"What should I look for?"

Look for tasty language, language that sounds tuneful and right and rich. I know you want insight from poems, but if that's *all* you want, there are works of theology, philosophy, nonfiction that will give you that. Poetry expresses truth in ways that are not straightforward. I think that this is because truth is *surprising.* We learn many things in logical order and think we know them, but sometimes our lives and the things we experience confound our ideas and show us that we *hear,* but do not *understand.* Good poems, on the other hand, express true things as a kind of music. There is something very humble and human about poetry: why should "love" rhyme with "shove"? Or "bottle" with "Aristotle"? Or "night" with "light"? Poetry is very physical: it is words arranged by their sound. By rhythm, and by the squawks and clucks of vowels and consonants. Some people find this humiliating. Free verse can seem like a way of escaping this limited condition, but it never really is, because it's still made of words - of noises. So, to return to my first point: when you let yourself rejoice in these seemingly narrow boundaries; when you see "night" claiming it has something to do with "light" and allow yourself to believe it, occasionally you get something very, very real. While you are enjoying the artistry of the words, something else can get past your defenses and surprise you. And the something is in the words themselves - you can't eat the cake unless you have it. So allow yourself to hear the sounds and enjoy them like music. I am sometimes guilty of soaking in the music without caring what it means, but you have to allow yourself to be enchanted like this, or else there is no point in trying to "figure it out."


"And, for poetry in general, should modern poetry be read differently than the classical variant? "

Just remember that new poetry is often responding to old poetry in some way. Gabriel Olearnik, for instance - he's been in DT many times, and you can tell he likes TS Eliot. When he mentions Christ the Tiger, the image is startling by itself, but it's also a quotation from TS Eliot.

Also, and more importantly: for more than a hundred years now, poets have been pushing the limits of how close words can get to music. What are you supposed to do with Dylan Thomas' lines, "Altarwise by owl-light in the halfway house / That gentleman lay graveward with his furies"? The whole poem goes on like that, getting weirder and weirder. I can't say it's one of my favorites. The words explode and fade like fireworks - they're little more than that. So when you read a poem in this issue like "Horae Mortis," and you see lines like this:

when above the terror of mouse-waters
death came with a banana.
Death, death is a little lavender boy
with gold dimples

You can pretty much assume that the author is splashing around in words - and you should try cornering him and asking what he meant by it all. Not even Eliot always knew what he was talking about when he said things like "Do I dare to eat a peach?"

Remember this when you read modern poetry: it tends to lean awfully hard on you, the reader. It is often arrogant, even if unintentionally. It forgets that it is not OWED a reading! Some of it intentionally cuts you out of the conversation. So don't let it get to you. Read what you like. Ignore what doesn't do it for you.