by Kirby Congdon…..

As in prose, the subjects for poetry are almost limitless. Oddly enough, however, there seem to be inhibitions about writing poems on personal relatives or in any area that is so familiar–like politics or business–that it has lost any aura of mystery. Actually the subjects in a poem we write are not chosen. We may be attracted to write down an idea or even just a phrase but it is unlikely that we will know all that much about it beforehand. A stranger with a baby carriage asked me to write a poem for her about her child on the spot then and there. I wanted to reply, “Do I look like a machine?”

When we are indeed committed to writing something, the writing itself pulls us in, and it is after that when we begin to find out what attracted us and define whatever it is we are trying to do. This is quite a lot like a painter letting the paint transform his or her empty canvas. We want control without losing the sense of inspiration. A poem can fail in its purpose when we just let it be a camera. The temptation is to make a note of anything related to the subject at hand. This can end up with a lot of detritus that doesn’t coalesce enough so that a lot of miscellaneous notations provoke directions to go in. Very little of our imagination actually falls together. We become involved in the sound of the words we have, the emotions they suggest, their definitions or, finally, to all the references that are brought to life in our minds. Frequently these are jotted down temporarily to one side of our manuscript as we scan our progress. They are, one by one, considered for their use as favorable, indifferent or they are rejected. The poem itself helps us decide which category a word, a phrase or an idea falls into. Our decisions can be rampant, reverse themselves or simply be abandoned. There is no procedure that is followed. Nor is there any time frame. One may work on a poem on impulse, in snatches off and on even for years or with continuity. The poet may rewrite, overhaul, revamp or let it mature on its own but one cannot write to order and expect much more than a Hallmark greeting card to come out of it.

In the early years of the new movement there was an insistence that anything in a new poem was sacrosanct. It came directly from the spirit and to alter anything at all was blasphemy. Even having a poem printed was being gross. Fortunately, the poet’s need to be listened to and heard persuaded these poets that their direct connection to the supernatural still needed to be proof-read if it was to keep its integrity.

On a similar level poets began to feel it was a mistake to write for a particular occasion because a poem is a private endeavor, not a bulletin board advertising one’s skills. Only recently an established writer poo-poohed my reservations about writing to order. Indeed he did get a prize for doing just this but even so a poem should only be in getting it done. If it is done well it will probably communicate whatever it wants to say. Of course there is always the risk that it won’t. But all creative work should dare to take a risk. The tried and true is supposed to be dependable but often it comes off as a big bore. We do need stability but like birth pangs themselves we can not do without the change innovation brings.