What does a poem mean?

[flyguy69]

So true. I usually think I know what I'm writing about when I start a poem and by the time I finish I've written about something else.

And then your readers find something completely different!

can a poem mean something the author did not intend? Clearly, we fault an author that holds an image in mind but does not provide enough text to place that image in the mind of readers. But what about something completely different? Could Adrian Mitchell have been "wrong" about his own poem?

 

[togitc]

this is the best story I have read in a long time

I'm a bit tired at the moment, are you serious?

 

[Angeline]

And then your readers find something completely different!

can a poem mean something the author did not intend? Clearly, we fault an author that holds an image in mind but does not provide enough text to place that image in the mind of readers. But what about something completely different? Could Adrian Mitchell have been "wrong" about his own poem?

Mornin fly.

Of course poems mean different things to different readers.

The onus is on the author to use the tools of poetry (techniques of the craft like imagery, metaphor, line breaks, and so on) to their best advantage, right? Obviously, we do need to try to get across what we want to say. When my son and I would work on his vocabulary homework together, he'd argue with me, say "but that's not what I think the word means," and I'd tell him if everyone else thinks it means x and you're insisting it means y, you're not communicating. What's the point of writing for an audience if you're not willing to try to communicate?

On the other hand, readers bring their own outside knowlege and experience to what they read, so an author's best effort can still result in a reader getting something other than what is intended. I do my best to make my poems communicate what I want to say, but I can't get inside a reader's head and make him or her understand the way I'd like them to, so I just try and then don't obsess about it.

 

[bogusbrig]

I'm not sure a writer even has to have something specific to say when starting to write. I've started a poem with just a line I've liked the sound of and ran with it, using words as I would use clay or other physical medium and built a poem as I go. Not knowing where a poem is going to go is a fascinating experience and when the process is successful I really enjoy trying to decipher meanings for myself.

Of course as I write such a poem, I bring my knowledge and experience to bear in modelling a poem. It also helps to be widely read and have a lot of raw material to draw on. It's the finished product that counts and since I'm not going to explain a poem to a reader, my interpretation of the poem isn't going to matter anyway.

 

[flyguy69]

Poetry explanations

On another thread Senna Jawa was asked to explain this poem:

silver


the reader reads between the lines --
the author gets cross-eyed

He explained thusly:

What can "silver" stand for in this piece? There is only one material, so to speak, thing in it, namely the author's writing.

Silver is the second most precious metal, after gold (there is also platinum, etc, but they are rare and don't count for the purpose of this comment). But silver is valued quite lower than gold. There is a saying "golden silence". Also, in Polish, and I expect that in other languages too (latin?) there is a saying "talking is silver, silence is gold".

This sets a frame for some thoughts about the text.

To his credit he did not "explain" the poem, and provides the appropriately vague "some thoughts" escape hatch at the end.

But the precious metal theme is not what I saw in this poem. As I read, the references to reading and vision brought the notion of "light" to my mind, and I took silver as reference to reflectivity (indeed, silvering as a verb is a process by which some mirrors are made). What I took from this poem (really more of an aphorism than a poem) was that authors find themselves confused by how much readers try to see reflected in their words. I could not decide if the poem ascribed error or accuracy to the readers' efforts.

Nothing particularly profound, but given what I thought I was gleaning I decided not to try to read too much into it!

Were I in Charley's or WSO's classroom, would I fail the exam for not seeing what the author wanted me to see?



edited to add: Morning, Angeline! Morning, err... whatever it is for you, Bogus!

 

[Angeline]

I'm not sure a writer even has to have something specific to say when starting to write. I've started a poem with just a line I've liked the sound of and ran with it, using words as I would use clay or other physical medium and built a poem as I go. Not knowing where a poem is going to go is a fascinating experience and when the process is successful I really enjoy trying to decipher meanings for myself.

Of course as I write such a poem, I bring my knowledge and experience to bear in modelling a poem. It also helps to be widely read and have a lot of raw material to draw on. It's the finished product that counts and since I'm not going to explain a poem to a reader, my interpretation of the poem isn't going to matter anyway.

Agreed. I love playing with words the way any artist loves creating in his or her medium. To me, writing is mainly improvisational--like jazz--it goes where it goes, but I get equal satisfaction from editing. A reader may not understand, for example, that a poem I wrote about autumn is really about someone's death: I'm not sure I'd want readers to pick up on personal references I put in the piece for myself. I would, however, want them to feel the sights, sounds, and smells of the season--and those are things I can manipulate with images and even structure.

 

[Angeline]

On another thread Senna Jawa was asked to explain this poem:
He explained thusly:
To his credit he did not "explain" the poem, and provides the appropriately vague "some thoughts" escape hatch at the end.

But the precious metal theme is not what I saw in this poem. As I read, the references to reading and vision brought the notion of "light" to my mind, and I took silver as reference to reflectivity (indeed, silvering as a verb is a process by which some mirrors are made). What I took from this poem (really more of an aphorism than a poem) was that authors find themselves confused by how much readers try to see reflected in their words. I could not decide if the poem ascribed error or accuracy to the readers' efforts.

Nothing particularly profound, but given what I thought I was gleaning I decided not to try to read too much into it!

Were I in Charley's or WSO's classroom, would I fail the exam for not seeing what the author wanted me to see?



edited to add: Morning, Angeline! Morning, err... whatever it is for you, Bogus!

You wouldn't fail my exam. I think what separates poetry from prose--well except narrative prose, which can get pretty poetic--is that a poem can be interpreted in different ways by different readers. Problem is that some writers follow that reasoning so far as to be utterly incomprehensible. I don't care whether or not I get your exact meaning, but I do want a poem to mean something. Otherwise we might as well all just write

urggle blurggle schmurggle
fuzzle furgle

and think well there I've just written some damn good poetry.

 

[flyguy69]

You wouldn't fail my exam. I think what separates poetry from prose--well except narrative prose, which can get pretty poetic--is that a poem can be interpreted in different ways by different readers. Problem is that some writers follow that reasoning so far as to be utterly incomprehensible. I don't care whether or not I get your exact meaning, but I do want a poem to mean something. Otherwise we might as well all just write

urggle blurggle schmurggle
fuzzle furgle

and think well there I've just written some damn good poetry.

I think your line breaking is weak, but otherwise outstanding!

 

[Angeline]

I think your line breaking is weak, but otherwise outstanding!

Maybe I'll turn it into a sonnet.

 

[flyguy69]

Maybe I'll turn it into a sonnet.

You know, I don't doubt that you could!

 

[SeattleRain]

I'm a bit tired at the moment, are you serious?

I am completely serious.

It is the best story I have read (and I have read many) about why someone started writing poetry.

You could write a book for adolescents based on the story. A fictional story about how a famous poet started writing poetry.

or at least a poem

 

[Angeline]

You know, I don't doubt that you could!

Yeah, I could.

Shall I compare thee to an urggle blah?
Thou art more schmurggle and I am verklempt,
mein meshugganeh, for all our hoo ha
can not pay the rent. Just close your eyes, shah,
and dream of us kvelling into the breeze,
carrying kugels, sly schtarkers with brots.
Navigate this mishagoss till we seize
the goldenah medina. We may plotz
under the slings and arrows of today,
still all the page is stage, and we kinder
mouth poets' mama loschen. Now away
from these vonsin, nu? Open the winder,
climb free with me, perchance to dream or wish
or fuggedaboudit. Here. Have a knish.

 

[Lauren Hynde]

Yeah, I could.

Shall I compare thee to an urggle blah?
Thou art more schmurggle and I am verklempt,
mein meshugganeh, for all our hoo ha
can not pay the rent. Just close your eyes, shah,
and dream of us kvelling into the breeze,
carrying kugels, sly schtarkers with brots.
Navigate this mishagoss till we seize
the goldenah medina. We may plotz
under the slings and arrows of today,
still all the page is stage, and we kinder
mouth poets' mama loschen. Now away
from these vonsin, nu? Open the winder,
climb free with me, perchance to dream or wish
or fuggedaboudit. Here. Have a knish.

Ah, Vogon-worthy at the very least!

 

[flyguy69]

Bada bing, Rabbi Shakespeare!

Yeah, I could.

Shall I compare thee to an urggle blah?
Thou art more schmurggle and I am verklempt,
mein meshugganeh, for all our hoo ha
can not pay the rent. Just close your eyes, shah,
and dream of us kvelling into the breeze,
carrying kugels, sly schtarkers with brots.
Navigate this mishagoss till we seize
the goldenah medina. We may plotz
under the slings and arrows of today,
still all the page is stage, and we kinder
mouth poets' mama loschen. Now away
from these vonsin, nu? Open the winder,
climb free with me, perchance to dream or wish
or fuggedaboudit. Here. Have a knish.

 

[Angeline]

Bada bing, Rabbi Shakespeare!

My grandparents are spinning in their graves, no doubt.

 

[togitc]

I am completely serious.

It is the best story I have read (and I have read many) about why someone started writing poetry.

You could write a book for adolescents based on the story. A fictional story about how a famous poet started writing poetry.

or at least a poem

Flattery only get you so far. Your name puts you over. I like you.

 

[Tzara]

I think what separates poetry from prose... is that a poem can be interpreted in different ways by different readers. Problem is that some writers follow that reasoning so far as to be utterly incomprehensible. I don't care whether or not I get your exact meaning, but I do want a poem to mean something. Otherwise we might as well all just write

urggle blurggle schmurggle
fuzzle furgle

and think well there I've just written some damn good poetry.

I'm not sure that poetry always needs to, well, make sense.

Probably the classic example is Lewis Carroll's "Jabberwocky," which includes a whole bunch of nonsense words that, in context, though they don't make sense, make sense.

And, of course, that reinforces your thesis. The poem still means something.

Probably. But it doesn't need to mean a lot. The semantic content can be very little. Take this example, which I just found browsing around in the archives the other day. Funny, meaningful (semantic content), though the basic (verbal) semantics are more or less nonexistent.

Then there is "sound poetry." Something that isn't quite Ella doing scat singing but which has no obvious semantic referent. Is it poetry or music? I dunno. I say poetry, you may say "poverty."

I also think that even mere random morphemes have a semantic residue. Take your example:

urggle blurggle schmurggle
fuzzle furgle​

Given that this is an "erotic" writing site I will merely note that those phrases certainly evoke some semantic references in me.

But we shall not discuss that.

I'm busy.

 

[quasar]

poetry means never having to say you're sorry?

On the contrary; saying your sorry with poetry gives it a deeper depth of an apology with much more meaning. Just ask Hallmark!

 

[Angeline]

I'm not sure that poetry always needs to, well, make sense.

Probably the classic example is Lewis Carroll's "Jabberwocky," which includes a whole bunch of nonsense words that, in context, though they don't make sense, make sense.

And, of course, that reinforces your thesis. The poem still means something.

Probably. But it doesn't need to mean a lot. The semantic content can be very little. Take this example, which I just found browsing around in the archives the other day. Funny, meaningful (semantic content), though the basic (verbal) semantics are more or less nonexistent.

Then there is "sound poetry." Something that isn't quite Ella doing scat singing but which has no obvious semantic referent. Is it poetry or music? I dunno. I say poetry, you may say "poverty."

I also think that even mere random morphemes have a semantic residue. Take your example:

urggle blurggle schmurggle
fuzzle furgle​

Given that this is an "erotic" writing site I will merely note that those phrases certainly evoke some semantic references in me.

But we shall not discuss that.

I'm busy.

There is no poverty in language that moves me, be it Yeats or Ted Berrigan, Robert Browning or John Giorno, Neruda, Ron Padgett, Ed Sanders, John Donne or Patti Smith. Some of Noam Chomsky's examples of transformational grammar sound marvelously poetic to me.

Which may explain why my fugazi schmurggalah strophes pique interest.


PS Judo, who wrote the example you linked to in your post is one of my favorite writers here.

 

[Tzara]

There is no poverty in language that moves me, be it Yeats or Ted Berrigan, Robert Browning or John Giorno, Neruda, Ron Padgett, Ed Sanders, John Donne or Patti Smith. Some of Noam Chomsky's examples of transformational grammar sound marvelously poetic to me.

Oh, don't do that! Yeah yeah yeah I am working my way through all these authors. My God! I picked goddam Bill Knott off one o' yur offhand comments. Excellent rec, by the by. But, geez Louise (er, Ange), I can't keep up, dear! Can you pleeze slow it down?

Judo, who wrote the example you linked to in your post is one of my favorite writers here.

I am not a complete dope, y'know. Know that. Part o' the argument. If sheez ignoring the "you need to make sense" break then why I should I care about it? (Which gives me an excuse to point to this which not only is, I think, good poetry (oh, and sexy and funky and it sure has a beat), but it also rocks on, people. An' it's funny funny funny too.)

Listen listen listen and carve the archives 'cuz there's really great stuff there!

She
She
She
Bop.

Sorry. (consciousness returns) What did you say?

 

[Angeline]

Oh, don't do that! Yeah yeah yeah I am working my way through all these authors. My God! I picked goddam Bill Knott off one o' yur offhand comments. Excellent rec, by the by. But, geez Louise (er, Ange), I can't keep up, dear! Can you pleeze slow it down?

I am not a complete dope, y'know. Know that. Part o' the argument. If sheez ignoring the "you need to make sense" break then why I should I care about it? (Which gives me an excuse to point to this which not only is, I think, good poetry (oh, and sexy and funky and it sure has a beat), but it also rocks on, people. An' it's funny funny funny too.)

Listen listen listen and carve the archives 'cuz there's really great stuff there!

She
She
She
Bop.

Sorry. (consciousness returns) What did you say?

No. I'm sorry to throw all those names at you--I think you're obviously quite smart and well read; I figured you'd know all those writers. I know Lewis Carroll, too, of course. I should have been more specific and said that I understand that there are different ways of making sense, that sometimes the medium (like in Jabberwocky) really is the message. That's true even in "traditional" poetry. Think, for example, about the way Milton varies structure in Paradise Lost when Satan speaks. Everything old is new again.

My goofy parody sonnet was an attempt to prove that point--that sometimes in a traditional form you can switch things around or even use the form to argue for writing that is the antithesis of form. Here's one of the first sonnets I ever wrote:

Be not afraid to write in verses free,
To chance in words upon disfavor’s way,
To take a stand upon which none agree.
Fear not the maxims others might inveigh.
True freedom lets imagination soar.
Uncensored thought does honest work create.
Avert your senses from the critics’ roar.
Make art whilst those of little vision prate.
In all things life anew is born of change
In art, too, difference lets new forms arise.
Revere the old, move on, then rearrange.
To not evolve condemns one’s words to lies.
In verses of persuasion rhymed or free,
Experiment and give rise to poetry.

It's a structured iambic argument for experimentation. I wrote it in response to someone who was ponticating at me that traditional form poetry is "better" than free verse. To me, good poems are better than not good poems. Period. It doesn't matter whether they're traditionally structured, free verse, narrative or abstract, or even out there avant garde. When I discover a poem that allows me to suspend my disbelief and experience the world of the poem for the time I'm reading it, I know I've read a good poem.

Sometimes I think Sun Ra is crazy incomprehensible and sometimes I think his music is brilliant. I try to keep an open mind and keep reading with the expectation (maybe "hope" is a better word) that I can discover great poetry anywhere. I don't like to pigeonhole or make generalizations. They just lead to missed opportunites to discover something wonderful.

Here is some Ted Berrigan:

Red Shift

Here I am at 8:08 p.m. indefinable ample rhythmic frame
The air is biting, February, fierce arabesques
on the way to tree in winter streetscape
I drink some American poison liquid air which bubbles
and smoke to have character and to lean
In. The streets look for Allen, Frank, or me, Allen
is a movie, Frank disappearing in the air, it's
Heavy with that lightness, heavy on me, I heave
through it, them, as
The Calvados is being sipped on Long island now
twenty years almost ago, and the man smoking
Is looking at the smilingly attentive woman, & telling.
Who would have thought that I'd be here, nothing
wrapped up, nothing buried, everything
Love, children, hundreds of them, money, marriage-
ethics, a politics of grace,
Up in the air, swirling, burning even or still, now
more than ever before?
Not that practically a boy, serious in corduroy car coat
eyes penetrating the winter twilight at 6th
& Bowery in 1961. Not that pretty girl, nineteen, who was
going to have to go, careening into middle-age so,
To burn, & to burn more fiercely than even she could imagine
so to go. Not that painter who from very first meeting
I would never & never will leave alone until we both vanish
into the thin air we signed up for & so demanded
To breathe & who will never leave me, not for sex, nor politics
nor even for stupid permanent estrangement which is
Only our human lot & means nothing. No, not him.
There's a song, "California Dreaming", but no, I won't do that
I am 43. When will I die? I will never die, I will live
To be 110, & I will never go away, & you will never escape from me
who am always & only a ghost, despite this frame, Spirit
Who lives only to nag.
I'm only pronouns, & I am all of them, & I didn't ask for this
You did
I came into your life to change it & it did so & now nothing
will ever change
That, and that's that.
Alone & crowded, unhappy fate, nevertheless
I slip softly into the air
The world's furious song flows through my costume.


And here's a site I've mentioned before that I bet you'll love.

UBU

 

[Tzara]

No. I'm sorry to throw all those names at you--I think you're obviously quite smart and well read; I figured you'd know all those writers.

Well, if it was Daniel Berrigan, Jean Giono, and Padgett Powell, and you gave me credit for Ed Sanders for listening to the Fugs, then I would have had them all covered. I have not generally read a lot of poetry. One of the interesting things about this place is that I'm learning a lot. Not particularly how to write, but more how to read. Which is what I'm more interested in anyway.

Everything old is new again.

And sometimes everything new seems old.

For me, much of contemporary poetry seems so crammed with image that it's like wading through the viscid glop of a Samuel Richardson novel. It just makes me tired trying to read it. It is very important to me that poetry sound well--important enough that I sometimes am not paying real close attention to what it is saying. I do the same thing with songs--I can rarely remember the lyrics.

Much of the poetry I've seen in journals and anthologies is also so very serious. Sometimes, perhaps often, it should be serious--life is serious--but I like funny as well.

Like this, from Bill Knott:

Penny Wise

well alright
I grant you
he was a fascist
ahem antisemitism the
er war and all
I'm not defending them
but at least
you've got to admit
at least he
made the quatrains run on time​

My goofy parody sonnet was an attempt to prove that point--that sometimes in a traditional form you can switch things around or even use the form to argue for writing that is the antithesis of form. Here's one of the first sonnets I ever wrote:

Be not afraid to write in verses free,
To chance in words upon disfavor’s way,
To take a stand upon which none agree.
Fear not the maxims others might inveigh.
True freedom lets imagination soar.
Uncensored thought does honest work create.
Avert your senses from the critics’ roar.
Make art whilst those of little vision prate.
In all things life anew is born of change
In art, too, difference lets new forms arise.
Revere the old, move on, then rearrange.
To not evolve condemns one’s words to lies.
In verses of persuasion rhymed or free,
Experiment and give rise to poetry.

Now, see, there you go, making me feel like a dimwit even attempting to write a poem. Showoff.

To me, good poems are better than not good poems. Period.

Agreed. I also think that you need to read a lot of bad poems (well, ordinary poems) to find a few really good ones. Yeats is one of my favorite poets and there are probably only six or ten of his poems that I come back to over and over, and not all of those are his "best" ones. They happen to be the ones that speak to me.

And here's a site I've mentioned before that I bet you'll love.

UBU

I had been there before, looking for stuff on Alvin Lucier if I remember, but thanks for reminding me about it. Some great sound files. Think I'll put on some shades, brew some espresso, and listen to some poems.

 

[CharleyH]

i used to fail all the questions that started 'In your opinion...'




this (thread) kind of reminds me something i was thinking about the other day. Senna Jawa was explaining in one of the threads what his poem 'Silver' might mean. it's interesting to realise that a poet may have (will likely have) more depth in their work than what i first see.

i like it when a poet explains the ins and outs of their words.

the flip side to that coin is, does the poet need to explain 'better' to give more depth in their work?

Perhaps you will do the same regarding your poem on the PDC?

 

[Guest]

So. Did we decide what "a poem means"? Sorry Chuck, but that's one dumb question. A poem means what it says - perhaps a different thing to each reader. It can't mean any one thing - unless it's in a Hallmark card.


P.S. I stil think you're hawt stuff.

 

[CharleyH]

So. Did we decide what "a poem means"? Sorry Chuck, but that's one dumb question. A poem means what it says - perhaps a different thing to each reader. It can't mean any one thing - unless it's in a Hallmark card.


P.S. I stil think you're hawt stuff.

It was apparently a good question in grade 9 to 13? Does a poem mean what it says? Or only what a poet wants it to say? Therefore how the hell do we as poets get our meanings across? What DOES a poem mean, exactly?

PS: you know I want you, sexy!