May 04, 2004
Defining Poetry
Here we go. Aaron Haspel tackles the question "what is poetry?" Jim Henley thinks we can discover the difference by looking at the etymology of "poem" and "prose". Both make some excellent observations, but neither manages a completely satisfactory definition. I'm not sure there even is one anymore. I imagine that this wasn't much of a problem two hundred years ago, before the advent of free verse. When all poetry is in meter and rhyme the definition becomes trivial. Still, it seems worth a try even if the best outcome might be nothing more than guidelines rather than a true definition. A couple of caveats before I begin: I consider verse distinct from poetry. Limericks are the former. Sonnet 116 is the latter. Also, I make a distinction between prose as a form and prose as the essence of a work; that is, a poem may be in prose and still be poetry, but prose itself is not poetry. That said, on to my wild stabbing.
One quality of poetry that Haspel suggests, but does not quite make that I find essential is music. His assertion that "poetry scans" comes close to this, but leaves out prose poems such as Baudelaire's Le Spleen de Paris. Henley's suggestion that "prose is what goes all the way to the end of the page" also fails to account for such works. Both formulations fail here because they deal with the form of poetry, not the content, which is where the essence, the true definition of poetry can be found.
Poetry requires music and sound to work. Even the freest of free verse contains some mixture of assonance, alliteration, rhythm, rhyme, or meter, however subtle. As Borges wrote:
Truly fine poetry must be read aloud. A good poem does not allow itself to be read in a low voice or silently. If we can read it silently, it is not a valid poem: a poem demands pronunciation. Poetry always remembers that it was an oral art before it was a written art. It remembers that it was first song.
Granted, he's interested in "fine poetry," not all, but he still points us towards a more general definition. One of the tasks for any serious poet during revision is to compress and strengthen the language, to improve the flow and sound. Otherwise the poem feels flat and may be nothing more than prose in verse form just as poetry may cloak itself in prose. By requiring that all poetry be first song we can discover it whatever form it takes.
The musical nature of a poem leads one to experience it almost as a chant, a magical object. In fact, poetry requires an obliqueness, a sense of mystery. Even the most prosaic, seemingly mundane poem hints at deeper meaning and forces the attentive reader to seek it out. In a weak poem there may, in fact, be nothing there, but the suggestion remains. Each word has weight beyond its meaning by virtue of being part of a poem. In a novel, long passages may do nothing more than advance the plot or describe a character. Even in a narrative poem, such as Wordworth's The Prelude, passages gain added weight. Consider The Prelude's first lines:
OH there is blessing in this gentle breeze,
A visitant that while it fans my cheek
Doth seem half-conscious of the joy it brings
From the green fields, and from yon azure sky.
Whate'er its mission, the soft breeze can come
To none more grateful than to me; escaped
From the vast city, where I long had pined
A discontented sojourner: now free,
Free as a bird to settle where I will.
Though Wordsworth sets up the story here, much more occurs in these lines than simple exposition. As one of the main themes of the work is the love of nature and the benefits that confers on those who feel such love, the idea that the breeze "[d]oth seem half-conscious of the joy it brings" foreshadows this theme and elevates nature to almost the level of a deity. Although fiction often treats nature in a similar way, such as in "The Old Man and the Sea," it does so in a long, discursive way, not in a mere line and a half. This sense of the compression and density of meaning is one of the essential qualities of all poems.
Although there are other aspects of poetry, I think these two qualities, song and mystery, most and best define what is a poem. One can find the same qualities in certain passages of prose, but not sustained throughout the work or in such degree. In fact, I would consider lines like John Updike's "in the vacuum of the heart love falls forever" to be poetry hiding in a novel. However, that one line does not make the novel into poem, just as a stray prose-like line in a poem does not convert the work into prose (despite the fact that it should probably have been cut by the author). Still, it seems that this definition is inadequate. Due to the mysterious nature of poetry, it may not be possible to categorize and weigh all the elements. To some extent, the dissection and classification of poetry destroys some part of it just as capturing and killing an insect leaves one with nothing more than a corpse and a Latin-filled card.
Poetry. What is poetry? What is poetry? Webster's dictionary defines poetry as "writing that formulates a concentrated imaginative awareness of experience in language chosen and arranged to create a specific emotional response through meaning, sound, and rhythm." To that, Mr. Webster, I say kudos. A more accurate and succint definition of such an ephemeral beast I have never seen. Case closed. Enjoy the buffet.
It's certainly succint. I'm not so sure about accurate. Not all poetry is meant to create a "specific emotional response". There's plenty of poetry devoted to philosophy, theology, narration, and other non-emotional topics. Plus, the definiton could also apply to certain types of prose writing as well. Still, if I had written this post for a high school English class, I would have been sure to include that quote in the introductory paragraph. I'm pretty sure that technique is required.
Dammit. I was about to write something knee-jerk and scathing about how "What is poetry?" has to be the most pointless, Ivory-tower bullshit question ever . . . but then I started reading. I think this may be the first time I've read you writing on your own subject, M, and I'm damned impressed, because you certainly managed to hook me into a debate I have little invested in. As for the links, I couldn't get very far through Haspel's (you got the names backwards, I think), though the idea of a scansion is new and compelling to me. Henley makes the more useful, if less evocative of the two assertions.
Inevitably, this brings my mind back to one thing - hip hop. This is where the 'musical' aspect of poetry is found in truly ecstatic abundance, though the line is blurred between, if you will, the phrase and the phrasing. Listening to "Dirt off your Shoulders" or "Overnight Celebrity" structurally, in terms of how the words are strung together, not just to rhyme, but to facilitate a flowing delivery, is really fun. One of my favorite recent lines are Ludacris' from "Yeah!":
Forget about game I'ma spit the truth/ I won't stop till I get em in they birthday suits
So gimmie the rhythm and it'll be off with they clothes/ bend over to the front and touch your toes.
Just say that third phrase. Even you can probably say it really, really fast, because the words fit so well together - basically you have a string of one-syllable vowel/noun pairs that flow with little effort. This sort of writing is probably 75% of what allows "fast rappers" to do what they do.
Whoa, there went the level of discourse. Good post.
Thanks for the compliments.
I'm pretty sure I got the names right in my citations. They both mention each other in their posts pretty prominently, so that may be why you thought otherwise, though.
As a fellow hip-hop head, I agree that good raps are abundantly musical. They tend to be more in the line of spoken word than written poetry, though. The two, though related, are distinct forms. I wouldn't want to hear someone rapping or slamming WCW just like I wouldn't want to sit down and study rap lyrics as poems. Maybe for other reasons, but not as literature. Still, for a look into the technique behind manipulating rhythm they're excellent. Closest thing we have to popular, metered poetry nowadays.
So there's the question, then. While I wouldn't think of beating some poetry prof over the head with a copy of the Black Album while insisting that Jay-Z "is so a poet" (well, maybe, but just for fun), I think it's weird that while the definition of poetry as aware of its oral roots seems pretty acceptable, you (and I'm sure others) make the distinction between written poetry and spoken word. Not necessarily that you're dismissive of spoken word, but there is clearly a separation. Meanwhile, there hasn't been greater public engagement with poetry over the last thirty years than we're getting right now with spoken word.
I'm sure this issue is being adressed somewhere. Hell, it could be a dominant discourse in poetry studies right now, for all I know. But I'm wondering, how does actual performance fit into any of these constructions of poetry?
Well, the difference I see between say, a poetry reading and a slam poetry contest has nothing to do with whether the poetry is presented orally or not. Slam poetry and most spoken word poetry has a healthy dose of theatrics in it. Written poetry can stand on its own either on the page or out loud, something much spoken word stuff can't do. I would say the difference is largely one of intent. Written poetry is intended to be read, reread, and become part of the literary tradition of poetry. Spoken word is intended to performed for an audience. The author's goals when creating either also affect the topic choice and the way it's dealt with. To me, spoken word is a fusion of poetry and theater, much like rap is a fusion of griot-like chants and music.
As for the oral roots of written poetry, I'm all for seeing more poetry readings. I think that would be a great way to both exemplify the musical aspects of a work and make it seem more accessible to those who might otherwise be reluctant to read poetry on their own. Even if you're just reading alone at home you can't fully appreciate a poem until you read it out loud.