Commercial Poetry: 12 Things Poets Get Backwards

     "'What does this poem mean?' (In my perfect world posing this question would, itself, be a fireable offense.)"

    - from "Why Your Poetry Fails - Part IV"

"But all they want to do
is tie the poem to a chair with rope
and torture a confession out of it."

    - from "Introduction to Poetry" by Billy Collins

Skill - Noun; the ability, coming from one's knowledge, practice, aptitude, etc., to do something well: Carpentry was one of his many skills.

Earl the Squirrel's Rule #59

One of the axioms among authorities in any skilled endeavor is that we need to practice if we hope to improve and, eventually, attract an audience. All authorities outside poetry understand that we should learn the fundamentals first; otherwise, we will have to unlearn a lot of bad habits later.

Why do so many aspiring poets disagree? There's really only one answer that makes sense: They must not recognize poetry as a skill. Let's see how this works out for them:

People who don't see the need to learn the elements of the craft often begin by writing for themselves as therapy. When they remember that their problem is a lack of attention they foist their "work" on unsuspecting, innocent friends and relatives who report that the writing is "mahvelous". Encouraged by false praise, the aspiring poet joins a vanity venue: open mic, showcase site, petting zoo workshop, whatever. Tired of canned compliments or being ignored, some may enroll in an academic echo chamber. This amounts to replacing their heart farts with Self-Amusing Musings ("SAMs"). If they stick with it they'll graduate with a six-digit debt and a degree that qualifies them to work in fast food. If they win the labor lottery they might become teachers, spending decades asking the wrong question (i.e. "What does this mean?" rather than "Will you remember this?") to students even more bored than they are. In this milieu, poems are judged solely by the amount of time classes can waste misinterpreting them. Attendance dwindles. Courses and staff are dropped. Books are published by univanity presses. No one cares.

Sound depressing? Hey, that was a best case scenario!

How does this compare to the fate enjoyed by those who do learn the basics first? At the very least, when the next "Prufrock", "Beans", "Musée des Beaux Arts" or "Studying Savonarola" pops up in half a century they will recognize it, sit back and say:

"This makes it all worthwhile."

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