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Open Poetry #31
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A Modern Troubadour's Lament
| Open Poetry #31 |
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A Modern Troubadour's Lament |
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wornways Member
since 2001-10-18
Posts 204CA, USA |
A Modern Troubadour’s Lament A schism rent the quiet past and left behind confusion, And autocentric demagogues stepped in to fill the void, Which brought about the gushing flood of poets in profusion. Imposters seized the Poet’s name with rough and savage noise, Demoting prosody to verse with arrogant assumption, And autocentric demagogues stepped in to fill the void. A few sang random songs of self with hearts full of presumption, While others clipped and nipped at prose, indignant and inept, Demoting prosody to verse with arrogant assumption. The ones who wrote evolving verse, now looked on with contempt, Were robbed of all integrity and broadly disregarded, While others clipped and nipped at prose, indignant and inept. An art emergent and alive had simply been discarded, For poets wont to learn that art and dream in measured strains Were robbed of all integrity and broadly disregarded. So it became unpopular to work in rigid frames, Thus stunting art’s development through future generations For poets wont to learn that art and dream in measured strains. The masses heard the demagogues and heeded their frustrations, And poetry itself became subjected to reform, Thus stunting art’s development through future generations. The name of Poet once was rare, not for the average born-- A schism rent the quiet past and left behind confusion, And poetry itself became subjected to reform, Which brought about the gushing flood of poets in profusion. =--------=--------=--------=--------=--------= A word of explanation: Ever since I was twelve years old, I've wanted to be a "poet". And, as I developed through the years and read books like The Oxford Book of English Verse, The Blue Book of Poetry, The Oxford Book of Regency Verse, Famous Editions of English Poets, and many more, I developed an idea of what it was to be a "poet". In my fantasizing young mind, it was a title of honor given to one who struggled for many years to master a language enough to be able to use it gracefully at its most molecular level. The "poet" in my mind was more than just someone who expressed a few feelings or told a story using short choppy lines, but someone who could make words dance and sing through the eyes, into the mind, and down to the heart. The "poet" was someone who's phrases made you race to the dictionary to look up words you didn't know because it was clear there was much to gain in understanding fully how the poet used it. The "poet" was someone who taught you about life, the world, adventure, trust, hate, how to lose, when to wait, why love can hurt—those things that impact life profoundly. To me, the goal of the "poet" was to give the gift of his or her heavily inspired, crafted words to the world, to sentience. But, then I began to grow up and out of that small little world. I discovered that anyone who claimed the name "poet" was instantly a poet by virtue of that claim. I discovered that purely self-indulgent babbling and just "say what you feel" was also poetry. It took me time, but I could accept this. Still, in time, I came to realize that the "poet" was no different than, say, the "bicyclist" because whoever writes a single poem is instantly a poet just like whoever rides a bicycle is instantly a bicyclist. I tried to lift myself out of the classics and found myself utterly immersed beneath the byproducts of so many dead trees that I simply gave up and went back to the classics. So, no, I don't know much about my contemporaries, and nor do I care. For nearly ten years, I also gave up on writing. Such was my disillusionment with poetry. It wasn't so much the fact that I now had nothing special or meaningful to aim for in striving to become a "poet". No, it was because of something else. As I began to reach out for guidance, even a mentor, to help me along the path of poetry and poetics, I found that verse-writing was looked on with ridicule and disdain. I found that those who had a hopeless penchant for studying and working in structured forms were harshly disregarded. This is what disillusioned me. I found the dichotomy frustrating. Those who strove to work in and even expand and evolve such forms as those used by past artists now recognized as "the greats" were thought of as just playing around in archaic constraining forms, and that such activities could only lead the contemporary poet from one failure in writing to another. These forms were merely for feeble-minded exercises, not to be taken seriously. Anyone taking structured poetry, verse, to heart was a sort of pretentious anachronism in the realm of poetry and immediately marginalized. Yet, the greats were recognized as the greats because they mastered and danced freely within the forms they used, the same forms now ridiculed. What many don't realize is the greats worked on many of their poems for months, even years. One example is Tennyson's "The Two Voices", a masterpiece. It took Tennyson several months to complete the first draft, and several years of revisioning before he reached a point where he was a little happier with it. This is what so severely disillusioned me twelve years ago, and why I stopped writing for over eight years. I just couldn't take being belittled and having my efforts thought of as silly and ridiculous. This poem that I share with you is not intended to diminish free verse or any other form of poetry. It is intended to address the mistaken attitude many free-verse-only poets have toward those who work in measured forms. Personally, I feel that all poetry is valid and worth exploring. However, the name of "poet" is not at all what I once thought it was, and it means nothing to me to be considered one. Once, amazing people like Tennyson, Byron, Campbell, Service and others were called poets, where the word connoted a mastery of language, achievement, and recognition, a sense now lost. Today they are no longer poets, because this word has lost its meaning. It has become the people's word, not a word for the gifted, polished master of language. I imagine some other word may be picked from the past to recognize them by, and to recognize those who strive now as they once did. For now, the name I've decided on is that of "troubadour". |
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| © Copyright 2004 Erin A. Thomas - All Rights Reserved | |||
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Seymour Tabin Member Empyrean
since 1999-07-07
Posts 31720Tamarac Fla |
wornways Quite a dissertation, enjoyed the read. |
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Margherita Member Seraphic
since 2003-02-08
Posts 22236Eternity |
Dear Erin, in Passions there are many who love to write in structured forms, so you are in the right place here to enjoy other's poetry and to share your own. I understand your Troubadour's Lament. You had your idea and could not accept that poetry became a mass phenomenon. Things change though, always. What is absolutely unjust is to ridicule what was considered great poetry or poets. I agree. Master of language can be one thing and Poet another. The best could be both combined. Anyway, I think what is really important is the message that the Poet conveys, whether in rhyme or not. Why not think that a Poet is the one who loves to use words in an efficient, harmonious way to say what's in his heart? Please reconsider your attitude. You ARE a poet and you feel like one. Enjoy your gift. We will all be happy to read your poetry. We can't please everybody so, some may like our efforts, others not, but this does not change the fact that we love writing poems and this is what counts after all. Erin, thank you. Love, Margherita  |
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Grover Senior Member
since 2004-01-27
Posts 1967London, ON, Canada |
In my mind the only true poetry is in the book of Psalms, written long before any of your examples... but then again, "what is truth." Enjoy whatever you have, contribute whatever you can-- none of us has anything but a "limited time warranty" in this life. And life is very brief. |
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DavePage Member Elite
since 2003-12-21
Posts 2917 |
I've printed your words out for myself to read and re-read Thank you for writing them It doesn't support how or what I write or why but it needs to be read and understood I've removed all my stuff on personal but at the end was a feeling I first espoused on the Scroll - when all else is gone, and people no longer have speech, there will be words. I support you in your statements but I ask that you do not deny people the right to understanding no matter where, no matter how and no matter why by restriction on form. dave |
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passing shadows Member Empyrean
since 1999-08-26
Posts 45577displaced |
I don't know what to say here but I wanted to let you know I was here  |
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nakdthoughts Member Laureate
since 2000-10-29
Posts 19200Between the Lines |
when I first began to write, only 5 or 6 years ago other than in school, I chose to write in rhyme and form and each week challenged myself to a new form. Now I enjoy both...and never know what will come out of m head until I begin typing. I guess it depends on what you like and how much you are willing to study and learn. Some of the free verse poets will say that most rhyme seems forced...and then some of the poets who love form will say free verse is just writing a sentence or phrase often disjointed. There is room for all and like fine paintings...there will be those who love a poem and those who don't. Those who know how to interpret and those who won't understand...and besides, the poem is meant to have meaning to the one who created it and if someone else enjoys it or feels from it that is a bonus. I enjoyed yours today. M |
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wornways Member
since 2001-10-18
Posts 204CA, USA |
Sorry it's taken me so long to respond. I've been, um, hrrm, BUSY. But, probably not busy with anything important. Anyway, I really appreciate all your responses. The feedback was more possitive than I was expecting, considering my words are flying in the face of Whitmanesque philosophy and progeny. Thanks again for your responses. |
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