Sunday, July 29, 2012

Poetry equipment



 Poetry equipment

Rules and norms on poetry (metrics, rhymes, structure...), terms and labels (romantic, modern, post-modern...): handy torches for the studious explorers with artistic curiosity...Pas mal! A steadfast initiative.

      All well-intentioned, willing interns in literature would need some equipment – let's say a pair of glasses or a hat, in order for them to be efficiently protected while making their acquaintance with the bright (lime?)light of poetry. The sticks of analysis would support their toddler steps into this road of intellectual and/or, existential discoveries.

However...would they really keep on walking with the whole lot of this stuff, even with that bat for the bushes, in the pocket of their bag? How would they pursue their march carrying all these bundles of scrutiny, without finding themselves at the hindrance of intimidating hesitation in front of a single log, fallen upon their route? Just before – or exactly at – the point where the road of poetry transcends into their personal “road less traveled”, would they be able to track it down effectively, when they have already become, more or less, heavy-footed, short-sighted observatory machines? Even if this wouldn't be the case, even if they had maintained some fresh glance on things, how much of their eyesight would have been left unrestricted, so that they could assume their creative perspective (either as poets or as critics)?

“Because, it happens sometimes in poetry: the ignorant one captures more efficiently the potentials which a stress of the language provides and dares to attempt them, when the other one, the profound connoisseur, has his own reasons to resist” (Od. Elytis).

It's here that we could attempt to pose the forthcoming question: consequently, what should the poet choose to be? A “daredevil” or a steady “connoisseur”?

A seemingly profound question; it would be nice, though, to underline the main controversies which such a question consists of: Should a poet “should”? Or even, would a poet “would”? Is there a “best attitude” for a poet? Does the verb “choose” correspond to the way a poet follows during the procedure of poetic creation? If it does, to what extend? And, last but not least: is a “daredevil” who isn't also a “connoisseur” (or vice versa) really, authentically, a poet?

As we all may be able to realise, this is the second stage that we, poetry travelers, usually encounter, after our first “induction” period of time. This is where we commonly meet the Sphinx of the poetry world, which throws its “riddles” to us, offering us the chance to transit from the pleasantly casual level of a simple visitor to the more responsible, painstaking and yet rewarding level of a permanent resident. Those who abandon their equipment there, in front of this Sphinx, are more likely to undo the “monster” with their answers, and eventually free to proceed and dwell in poetry. These ones are often the most capable of determining their poetic flow than being determined by it, as they have the ability to handle the reins with originality without being reined by external forms – and without, on the other hand, getting troubled by them when in use.

All in all, poetry is a route of sequenced creating and re-creating life using the fundametal constructive elements of speech: words. In a wider scope, poetry is generally creating (from texts to meals, or even connections and relationships) - and then it becomes a life itself. As William Blake's quote suports: "I must create a system or be enslaved by another man's; I will not reason and compare: my business is to create"

And now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to withdraw, in order to resume my march and solve my personal poetic “riddles”.


Z.K.