The Most Important Part of Writing Poetry
As I took a break from Substack for a few weeks to work on a writing contest, I had to overcome multiple obstacles to create what, in my eyes, was the perfect poem for the contest. Some of these obstacles included writer's block, no time to work, and an overall lack of inspiration.
Looking back, there were many things I could have done much better. But I wanted to ask my audience: what makes a poet a poet? What is it that separates the poet from the ordinary man or woman, and are they even different in the slightest from the average person? Is it talent? Is it the ability to create striking and original metaphors out of what seems to be a boring event? Or is it creativity and thoughts that somehow fly into a poet's head? For example, do they acknowledge that a word in poetry has a much deeper meaning than its face value?
History tells us that poetry was created so that history itself, along with rituals and laws, could be preserved. All over the world, people such as griots from Mali and the classical and romantic poets that we know today have sung hymns and ballads or written them down to create simple rhyme schemes or full-blown dramas. I want to know why you think people such as Rumi or Edgar Allan Poe are considered great—not for the poetry they published, but for the skills required to publish that level of poetry.
Hopefully, your answers will help me in the future when I write more poetry. Let's see what you think!
Great question! I recently read Mary Oliver's essay on Poe in Upstream, and she emphasized that what made Poe such a great writer was how he explored the raw, emotional depths of human existence. He refused notions of certainty, so his inner turmoil is like a mirror for the reader, helping them realize the drama and the frailty of existence. She writes in that essay, “In this universe we are given two gifts: the ability to love, and the ability to ask questions. Which are, at the same time, the fires that warm us and the fires that scorch us.” I think we need warmth and occasional scorches (something like reorientation). I think great poets do that. They make us see things that are in many ways universal, yet lie beneath surface-level discourse. I highly recommend Oliver's essay, "The Bright Eyes of Eleonora: Poe’s Dream of Recapturing the Impossible."
Wisława Szymborska nailed it:
“I prefer the absurdity of writing poems / to the absurdity of not writing poems.”
– "Possibilities"