April is Poetry Month 2

April is National Poetry Month, and the reason the month carries that designation is to recognize the role of poetry in society.

Does poetry play a role in society? The answer is no, it does not; but, perhaps we still need a national poetry month anyway.

Poetry is “mano-a-mano”, hand-to-hand, person-to-person, and really has nothing to do with society; poetry, is more anti-social than social, but that does not mean it has no value.

Perhaps looking towards an anti-social poet with little respect for poets might provide some help in understanding why poetry  is so unappreciated in today’s world.

Charles Bukowski,1920-1994, was an American poet and short story writer. Examining one of Bukowksi’s poems, “Poetry Readings”, might give a clear understanding why many people basically cannot stand the thought of poetry, much less stand to sit in on a poetry reading.

poetry readings have to be some of the saddest
damned things ever,
the gathering of the clansmen and clanladies,
week after week, month after month, year
after year,
getting old together,
reading on to tiny gatherings,
still hoping their genius will be
discovered,
making tapes together, discs together,
sweating for applause
they read basically to and for
each other,
they can’t find a New York publisher
or one
within miles,
but they read on and on
in the poetry holes of America,
never daunted,
never considering the possibility that
their talent might be
thin, almost invisible,
they read on and on
before their mothers, their sisters, their husbands,
their wives, their friends, the other poets
and the handful of idiots who have wandered
in
from nowhere.

I am ashamed for them,
I am ashamed that they have to bolster each other,
I am ashamed for their lisping egos,
their lack of guts.

if these are our creators,
please, please give me something else:

a drunken plumber at a bowling alley,
a prelim boy in a four rounder,
a jock guiding his horse through along the
rail,
a bartender on last call,
a waitress pouring me a coffee,
a drunk sleeping in a deserted doorway,
a dog munching a dry bone,
an elephant’s fart in a circus tent,
a 6 p.m. freeway crush,
the mailman telling a dirty joke

anything
anything
but
these.

Bukowski takes a dim view of poetry readings, and the poets – for a very specific reason….their lack of guts.

Poetry is mano-a-mano, it is one person speaking to one person – and that takes guts.  Bukowski, who wrote thousands of poems and hundreds of short stories, understood poetry as mano-a-mano when he said, “You begin saving the world by saving one man at a time; all else is grandiose romanticism or politics.”

That one person being saved, that one person the poet writes for – it might be the poet himself – but it must be one-on-one; the poet always has an audience of one.

Appreciation for poetry is usually killed in schools where poems are dissected like a dead corpse. Yes, there is the rare teacher who can inspire a student – but most often classes focused on poetry can be scholastic torture. As Woody Allen advised Diane Keaton in Annie Hall, “Just don’t take any course where you have to read Beowulf.”

But there can be hope for poetry to find a resurgence in America, the world, and that is through the fantastic revolution in communication and platforms like Facebook and Twitter.

It’s not that these new methods of communication can be used to share poetry,though they can; but, rather, poetry can be the antidote to having to read every mind numbing thought that is shared via social networks.

The revolution in communication is taking place through our computers, our phones, our machines, and too often that is to whom we are speaking – a machine, not a person, not mano-a-mano.

When Walt Whitman began the poem Song of Myself with “I celebrate myself, and sing myself“, he was not talking about celebrating the results of every bowel movement with friends, family, co-workers, alumni, and casual acquaintances on Twitter or Facebook …Whitman was celebrating life….from the majesty of nature, to the simplicity of “observing a spear of summer grass“, to the beautiful mystery of death.

The majority of elective communications we indulge in through the wonders of technology revolve around reactions – we react to what we see on the news, what friends post, what people say. Poetry, on the other hand, involves the ability to respond – and that’s a big difference. No one wants a “first reactor” rushing to a disaster scene blathering about how terrible it is – people want a first “responder”.

Poetry allows you to respond mano-a-mano. The poet might be dead, might be famous, might be a friend, or just a faceless entity, but it is still a mano-a-mano response of one person to another person….and that’s something that happens less and less these days.

Seeking out opportunities for poetry is one way to begin expanding it’s everyday use – like this poem by William Carlos Williams. One of his famous poems, “This is Just to Say” appears most suitable for a post-it on the refrigerator…and yet it is timeless and classic and will speak to generations to come:

I have eaten
the plums
that were in
the icebox

and which
you were probably
saving
for breakfast

Forgive me
they were delicious
so sweet
and so cold

That’s one cold poet eating all the plums, selfishly, and then begging forgiveness – but don’t you just love him for it.

Poetry is mano-a-mano,  as a Yeats’ love poem can be like a kiss, or a Bukowski poem akin to a punch in the face, it starts with one person’s truth and then is passed to another.

So, before April is over, take a stab at writing a poem – perhaps it’s bloody, perhaps it’s flowery, perhaps it’s about the garbage that was left stinking in the garage because you forgot what day it was – and then share that poem on Facebook.

If people don’t “like” it, or “comment” on it, or “share” it – don’t “sweat” it – at least you got guts.