The Outerview Series: Part II - Where is poetry?

 

     In our first outerview we established that poetry is a mode of speech, coming about because audiences feel the words are worth preserving in memory verbatim.

     Our next question is:  "What happened to poetry?  Where did it go?"

     Two centuries ago the average literate person knew hundreds of poems and hundreds of songs.  Most of the latter may have come from church attendance.  Today, the average literate person can sing along to thousands of songs but not recite a single poem written in the last half century.

     Before performing her song, "Motherland", in this video Natalie Merchant interrupts herself to say:  "Oh, this is a poem by Natalie Merchant."  Here are the lyrics, with some color added to highlight some of the repeated sounds, including rhymes:

[Verse 1]
Where in hell can you go
Far from the things that you know
Far from the sprawl of concrete
That keeps crawling its way
About one thousand miles a day?

[Verse 2]
Take one last look behind
Commit this to memory and mind
Don't miss this wasteland
This terrible place, when you leave
Keep your heart off your sleeve

[Chorus]
Motherland, cradle me
Close my eyes
Lullaby me to sleep
Keep me safe
Lie with me
Stay beside me
Don't go
Don't you go

[Verse 3]
Oh, my five-and-dime queen
Tell me what have you seen?
The lust and the avarice
The bottomless, the cavernous greed
Is that what you see?

[Chorus]
Motherland, cradle me
Close my eyes
Lullaby me to sleep
Keep me safe
Lie with me
Stay beside me
Don't go

[Verse 4]
It's your happiness I want most of all
And for that, I'd do anything at all, o mercy me!
If you want the best of it or the most of all
If there's anything I can do at all
Now come on, shotgun bride
What makes me envy your life?
Faceless, nameless, innocent, blameless, and free
What's that like to be?

[Chorus]
Motherland, cradle me
Close my eyes
Lullaby me to sleep
Keep me safe
Lie with me
Stay beside me
Don't go
Don't you go

      The music couldn't be much simpler and the singing adds immeasurably to the experience.  Note the repeated sounds:  rhymes, assonance (i.e. vowel sounds), consonance (i.e. consonants) and alliterations (i.e. at the beginnings of words).  These make the poem easier to remember.  As memory aids called "mnemonics".  We remember the choruses because they are repeated but which verse do we remember most?  Might it be the most colorful one, with the most sound repetitions?

        Would this work as spoken verse?  

      "Why would anyone want to hear a song without its music?"

      Great question!  With the introduction of radio in 1923 people could listen to music 24/7.  This was much more convenient than going to a saloon, church, or music hall.  

      Think of how many lyricists you know.

      "Isaac Brock, Max Martin, Sly Stone, Claudio Sanchez, Barry Mann, Justin Vernon, Lana Del Rey--"

       I'd have gone with Leonard Cohen, Bob Dylan, Ferron, and John Prine, but your list is fine.  Now, how many 21st Century poets--not counting lyricists--can you name?

       Crickets.

       Really?  Okay.  How many 21st century poems can you recite?

       More crickets.

       In the shower or while playing air guitar, how many 21st century songs can you butcher?

       "Jillions!"
 

       Alright.  So which should we learn first?  Metered verse, which can be turned into songs, or free verse, which aren't?  Something with billions of listeners worldwide or something with virtually none?

       "Is this a trick question?"

         No.

        "Then meter, of course!"

        Good choice.  We'll need to learn about rhythm, which we call "scansion", and sounds, which we call "sonics", including rhyme.

        "Can we learn about slams?  My friends say they're a lot of fun."

        We can have you competing in slams within a few weeks.  As for fun, that is another of Pearl Gray's paradoxes--

        "What's a paradox?"

         Something that seems contradictory but is actually true.

       "Okay.  So...why do some people write free verse?"

        Because they think it is easier and they figure, since no one is listening, why not take the path of least resistance?

       "And is it easier?"

        No.  In fact, it's five times as difficult, and there is no real chance of serious benefit--to the author or the public--because of the minuscule audience and, for that matter, readership.

       "So why do they bother?"

        Because being a poet has a certain cachet.  Status.  People who don't get enough attention love the thought that their words will be preserved in memory.

       "Even though they won't be."

        Exactly.  A person can dream.  It's a free country.

        "Is there any way to get people to read your poetry?  Without setting it to music, I mean."
 

        A person could get their work published in their university's press and hope students will be forced to study--sorry, interpret--it.  Or be selected to read a poem at an inauguration.  Or state funeral, perhaps.  We call these "occasional" poems.  Unfortunately, the last few of these have not been memorized, even by their authors.

        "That's it?"

        People just don't listen to poetry without music.  

       "Is there a workaround?  Some kind of cheat code?"

         Well, it's possible to embed poetry in prose.  For example, imagine a movie about someone who performs poetry at, say, open mikes.  Beyond that, we're really only talking about song lyrics.  For now, at least.

        "That's depressing."

         It can be, but consider this:  There is more verse being published and heard today than ever before.

        "Yeah, but there's more people than ever before."

         True, but I mean as a percentage of the population.  Granted, 99.999+% of the verse is in song, but the hours individuals spend listening to verse are at an all time high.  And rising.

        "So if I'm a tone deaf poet--"

         You have one more reason to date a musician.

Next: Part III - What is rhythm?

 

The Outerview Series: Part I - What is poetry?

      Poetry is speech worth remembering.  (Believe it or not, that was the long definition.)  Because there are only two kinds--two modes--of speech we only need to distinguish poetry from its opposite, prose, in order to define it.

     "Please, slow down.  I'm new to this.  Taking notes here."

     Fair enough.  Consider this:  If two people tell you the same joke using entirely different words, is it the same joke?

     "Yes, isn't that just saying that the same joke is the same joke?"

     Right.  It's called a tautology.  Now, if two people recite the same poem using entirely different words, is it the same poem?

     "Oh, I see.  It's all about the words, then."

     Exactly!  In short, poetry is verbatim.  

     "Wait, what about poetry readings?"

     "Poetry readings" is a contradiction in terms.  An oxymoron.  If the reader--often the author--can't be bothered to memorize and perform the work, why think the rest of us will?

     "Okay, what about reading poetry?  Say, in books."

      There are two fine reasons for reading poetry instead of listening to it.  The first is to memorize it after you've enjoyed hearing it.

     "And the second?"

      The other reason is to see why you or others want to memorize it.  This is called "prosody"--

      "Pross-who?  How do you spell that?" 

       P-R-O-S-O-D-Y.  A bag of tricks to help people remember your words.  A science, actually.

      In other words, the second reason involves reading critically, something you're most likely to practice as part of your education.

     "But what if I write something beautiful and heartfelt--"

      Prose--purple prose, at least--can be every bit as "beautiful and heartfelt" as poetry.  Both can be humorous, thoughtful, instructive, emo, nostalgic, political, provocative, handy, sad--literally, anything.

Thirty days hath September
April, June, and November.

      "What if my story rhymes?"   

       Then it becomes an attempt at poetry, since rhymes do help us remember.  If no one hears your words, though, it isn't communication, let alone poetry.  Just a tree falling in the forest.

       "No audience, no poetry.  Got it.  So, it's a poem because it has some of these prosody thingies but...not a poem if no one remembers it?  That sounds messed up."

       It is a conundrum, yes. As we say:  "Most poetry isn't."

       But wait.  It's about to get a lot messier.  Let's recap:

       Communication requires a sender and a receiver.

       "Clearly."

       Poetry is speech, not writing (which came much later, if at all, in cultures).  The fancy sounds, including rhymes, need to be heard to be appreciated.

       "Okay."

       It can explore any subject or theme with any level of passion or depth.

       "Agreed."

       It only asks to be remembered word for word.  That's why we recite poetry.  Prose?  Not so much.

       "Seems about right."

       Poetry is composed by poets...

       "Obviously."

       ...but if it needs to be preserved verbatim to avoid being prose, who is creating the poetry?

       "Wait.  What?"

       People can write a billion "poems" but they're just autumn leaves until someone takes one home.

       "I'm a little confused now."

       A book is only a manuscript until it is published.

       "Okay, that I understand."

       So who creates books?  Authors or publishers?"

        After a long pause:  "Oh-h-h...I think I get it now.  It's the movie producer, not the script writer, who produces movies.  Film.  Doh!" 

      

       Precisely.  Only the audience matters because only they can prove the words are worth memorizing--by doing the job themselves.  When all is said [even if nothing is done], poetry is what remains.

Next:  Where is poetry?

The Outerview Series

      These lectures, interrupted by an inquisitive young student, explore the essence and rudiments of poetry.  Your comments are welcome.