blog: poetry is a discomfort zone

Poetry is a weird art medium. Especially for me these days. I’m plagued with questions…. should I aim for the controversial, political, slam-worthy, stuff of viral media? Can I just write simple ditties about love, and nature, and God, or does it all have to be clever and have deeper meaning? Do I have to keep churning pieces out, or is it okay to write one or two truly inspired poems a year? Should I take my old stuff and mine it for gems, or build a big bonfire in my backyard and burn it all? (I’m in favour of burning it, personally!)

And in my experience it’s not an art form that garners a lot of validation, to be honest. The people who like poetry – the poets, the music makers and the dreamers of the dreamswe get it. But the rest of the world doesn’t seem to know what to do with it. Write a song or a novel, and people applaud. Write a poem, and you get crickets.

I think it comes down to a matter of how we handle vulnerability and self-exposure. Take classic art forms for example – drawing, painting, sculpting, etc. The artist creates a piece of art derived from a real life object or concept using the materials of their choice. Some art can be political and provide a social commentary, and other art is just nice to look at. The thing about this type of art, is that its meaning or message is often subjective and dependent upon its beholder. The artist’s own intent can be overt or hidden in layers of messaging if they choose. And for people who just like art for arts’ sake, or the average punter who knows nothing about art, they can at least appreciate it at that surface level.

But poetry… poetry doesn’t hide. Ever. It can’t, because by its very nature poets are literally describing what is in their brain. They aren’t pulling any punches. They are telling you how they see the world, in no uncertain terms. Yes, there are metaphors and poems can ramp the romanticism and melodrama up to 11, but ultimately the author is telling you exactly how they feel about their subject… what they hate, what they love, what they fear, what they desire.

And so the non-initiated audience gets uncomfortable. They feel like they are peeking into something they shouldn’t, seeing behind the veil, reading someone’s diary. They may not understand how to engage with poetry; they may be unqualified to comment on the form and rhyming schemes and all the technical things that make that poem great, which leaves them only the content to parse… and since a lot of poetry is raw emotion on a plate, that makes them uncomfortable.

I’ve noticed this, when I post pictures of something I’ve made or a costume I’ve sewn, e.g. something visual, the engagement is substantial. Lots of likes and heart reacts, some comments and questions. But if I drop a new poem, I don’t get the same result. Don’t get me wrong – this isn’t me begging for likes. I’m too old to care about popularity contests anymore. I would still write, even if it was only for myself. But it’s interesting to see more visual forms of art receiving immediate validation, while a poem that would take just a minute or two to read gets awkwardly ignored.

Sometimes I just want to say – “Hey, it’s okay. I get it. I shared something super personal here in this poem. But I shared it because I wanted to.” Because that’s what it comes down to. You’re not peeking into my diary – I’m opening up the book for you. Nothing gets put out in the world without my consent. I have agency over my level of exposure and vulnerability. And if I write about hard things, or share my feelings, it’s because I CHOOSE to do that.

It’s okay if you’re not a ‘fan’ of poetry. It’s okay if you don’t like what I write, or the way I wrote it. It’s okay if you think I’m an absolute unpolished amateur hack. I’m not writing for your validation. But I am hoping for your appreciation.

Ultimately I’m just a kid running to their parents with a hastily scribbled crayon drawing, hoping it’ll get put on the fridge. I guess in a way this website is my fridge… I stick my poems here, and maybe one day someone will read through it all and actually get me, because ultimately all I really want is to feel seen.

poem: musings under the bodhi tree

I want to write poems that make you go wow…
Pop open your mouths and feel like the world as you know it
has been turned inside out,

And oh how I wish I were ballsy enough –
To spit rhymes on street corners and strut my lyrical stuff
Without censoring myself or holding a grudge
against the sins of the past.

I want to change the picture, flip the scene,
make you think about things
in ways you never dreamt possible –

I want to create a dialogue, an invitation to come and be
Co-conspirators
In a closed loop circuit of ingenuity.

And just as I have thrown myself at the feet
Of prophets like Rumi and Hafiz,
Had my soul spoonfed by Dickinson,
And plunged headlong like a lemming
into the sweet abyss of Hemingway –

I long to possess and impart such wisdom
That people would line up for miles
just to lay their naked, quivering,
thirsty souls in my outstretched hands
Saying – Feed me!
Fill me! Teach me!
Show me -more-…

And then I’ll say – No.

I cannot, because the vision is yours.
You are the key to your own destiny.
The knowledge has always been in you.
You ARE enough for your soul.

And then we’ll walk as equals in paradise,
sharing enlightenment, sharing life;
And I’ll lead you to the cafe where
Buddha and Ghandi sit contemplating their coffees
Where Jesus waits (and occasionally flips) tables
And Freud and Jung are locked in an eternal game of strip-scrabble.

A place where I am you and you are me
And my words are yours and your words resonant in me
And when we finally understand that WE
are the music makers and the dreamers of the dreams –

Then…

Then we can change the world.