Is poetry dead?
Though we are tempted, let’s not tire of the question. Because, sometimes a question that keeps arising is simply another question in disguise. If I could reframe the question as the one that pulses just beneath the surface, I would ask not “Is poetry dead?” but rather “What is dead about our mainline approach to poetry?” And, beyond that, “What is dead about the poetry continuum we offer to the uninitiated and the experienced?”
For a business to survive, or a movement—and I would argue a curriculum subject and an art as well—there must exist multiple entry points, at various levels…
For a business to survive, or a movement—and I would argue a curriculum subject and an art as well—there must exist multiple entry points, at various levels, for the curious (or those who could be curious, if only they felt invited). Likewise, those who have been at it for a while must experience renewal.
Sure, a business, a movement, a curriculum subject, or an art can survive for some time by catering only to the committed “customer, ” but in the end there comes an end. In the words of Adam Grant, author of Originals, “…movements need to refresh and update their agenda continuously in order to be seen as cutting edge, authentic, and relevant” and those who “fail to innovate their movement agenda and engage with new ideas…become obsolete and lose touch….”
The problem, as Grant sees it, is radicalism—and a view that there is one right way for people to go about becoming a part of things. He uses the example of the failed Occupy movement and asserts that a “99 Percent” approach would have “temper[ed] the brand of the movement and broaden[ed] its methods” which would have made it possible to “gain the support of more mainstream citizens” (p. 126).
Regarding poetry, I am quite familiar with the problems of radicalism in either direction: all-amateur versus all-expert, and I am dissatisfied with both.
Regarding poetry, I am quite familiar with the problems of radicalism in either direction: all-amateur versus all-expert, and I am dissatisfied with both. When those who declare poetry dead declare it dead, they often mean the all-expert side of things. When people who declare it alive-and-well point to the energy of amateur audiences, they are (to my mind) simply pointing to a new movement that is not yet dead. (Yes, I suggest that people will tire of the sameness of their own and each other’s verse over time.)
If I did not believe in the power of poetry for life, I would let the question itself die without bothering to offer an answer. But I do believe in the power of poetry. I have seen it change lives, first-hand. I cherish its long history and its possible future. I believe that its reading and writing practices should not settle in either camp—amateur or expert—because to settle in one place or the other is to diminish its power and possibility.
To this, I propose an approach that uses The Growth Model—a continuum that can be re-entered from the beginning, in new iterations, for the experienced. Let each person declare his or her place on the continuum (yes, even in the classroom!), and then let’s foster movement across it and then back and across it again.
We educators sometimes mistrust that the uninitiated will choose to grow, and we fear they’ll choose the path of least resistance. But, in my experience, both students and adults will—when they believe they have a true choice and they feel inspired and are given useful tools—choose to move along a continuum rather than remain stuck.
We educators sometimes mistrust that the uninitiated will choose to grow, and we fear they’ll choose the path of least resistance. But, in my experience, both students and adults will—when they believe they have a true choice and they feel inspired and are given useful tools—choose to move along a continuum rather than remain stuck. (The popularity of video games attests to this dynamic.) On the flip side, our youth-oriented culture sometimes misses or discounts the wisdom of the mature and the growth that remains possible until, quite frankly, we are actually dead and gone.
So, what might a poetry continuum look like? Let’s use the analogy of plant growth (or what I like to call The Growth Model of Education).
The Growth Model of Education
Seeds > Soil > Nutrients-Water-Sun > Maturity > Seeds
Whether we are a student, a classroom teacher, a librarian, a poetry organization, a poet, or a literate adult, we can place ourselves on this continuum. The point of such a continuum is in the spirit of the thing, and the key is to think about the quality of what can happen and not just tactics (although they are interesting in their own right).
Seeds
Poetry seeds are small invitations.
They are simple and non-demanding. The silly? The banal? The fragment? The movie clip? The humorous? The passionate? The visual? All are allowed. All are scattered abroad without focusing on judgment or analysis. It should take no expert knowledge to participate.
[Tweet “Poetry seeds are small invitations. #thegrowthmodel #edchat #education”]
Soil
Poetry soil is a social experience, a community that begins searching for what feels more powerful word-wise, still without a push towards analysis.
It involves a level of curation and elevation. We share what we love, we collect it or read it aloud to one another, we “oh and ah” over it. We don’t need to understand who the poet is or what he or she did with alliteration or similes. We simply need to feel free to share what we love—even if we don’t understand what contributes to the power of our chosen verse.
[Tweet “Poetry soil is a social experience. #thegrowthmodel #edchat #read4fun #education”]
Nutrients, Water, Sun
These are larger invitations, still without judgment—but not without inquiry.
We say to ourselves or to those we lead, “So you love what Whitman did there? How do you think it happened? Was it an accident, or is there some craft behind it?”
On the one hand, the amateur will often claim it was all accident, all heart. On the other hand, some experts will assert that it was all craft, all purpose. The truth is it could be either (or more likely both), for any given poem. This is the moment to think things through and question, “If I wanted to accomplish something similar, either through accident or craft, what would it take for me to do so?”
Then, choose a path—or ten—and try.
Here is the chance to introduce solid ideas about how to write good free verse or form poetry like the ghazal, the sonnet, and so forth. But here is also the chance to introduce ideas on how to become more creative and open, in order to promote more happy accidents in our writing.
If there is no interest in writing or analyzing poems, then a person can go on collecting but add the effort of pairing like with like, based on either theme or form or general feel. Part of this collection can involve copying the poems out, which will allow the hand to seamlessly teach the brain on matters of craft.
Pruning
At last, we admit that some poems (many poems!) could be made better (or that, with certain changes, some poems would be made worse).
This part of the continuum is characterized not just by smart revision strategies but also by fun substitutions of words or playful shifts in line breaks, to prove to ourselves that the poem really is (or is not) a work of art—or a work of art that has achieved something specific.
In a recent essay by James Longenbach in Poetry magazine, he does just this, pulling apart famous poems and re-ordering their lines. The result is fascinating and enlightening; the practice would make for a nice higher-level conversation in the classroom or in a poets’ and writers’ group.
Maturity
In the final stage, a person is facile with poems. But the truly mature don’t settle for sitting on this side of the continuum (and they certainly don’t disdain others who are yet to enter).
Instead, they become active in promoting the continuum from its beginning. They also understand that they can find ways to personally move through it again—perhaps branching out to another culture’s, or societal segment’s, or medium’s way of engaging with poetry.
Through this re-entry, the mature can cultivate both humility and new delight—something which great poetry itself both asks of us and promises.
The Growth Model: Questions for Poetry Continuum Reflection
1. Where am I, personally, on the poetry continuum?
2. Where is my program, teaching approach, organization, other, on the continuum?
3. If I have constituents, where are they on the continuum? (Not sure? Try a survey.)
4. Have I (or my program, etc.) gotten stuck or felt compelled to settle at one place on the continuum? What are the risks of staying stuck there? If my (or my program, etc’s) place on the continuum is a deliberate choice, do I support outside efforts that offer other continuum points?
5. If my program, classroom approach, etc., offers multiple points on the continuum, is this clear to constituents? And, do they have both the freedom to engage at the point that feels best to them and feel inspired (and have adequate tools) to keep moving along the continuum?
6. What accidental blocks between continuum points may there be, for me personally, or for my program, classroom approach, etc.? How can I begin to address these blocks?
Photo by きうこ, Creative Commons license via Flickr. This post is a modified reprint of an article by L.L. Barkat, author of Rumors of Water: Thoughts On Creativity and Writing and The Novelist, that originally appeared at Huffington Post, titled For the Life of Poetry: Creating a Continuum.
Click to download a copy of The Growth Model & Reflection Questions
And, a Poem
- Journeys: What We Hold in Common - November 4, 2024
- Poetry Prompt: My Poem is an Oasis - August 26, 2024
- Poetry Prompt: Sink or Swim - July 15, 2024
Donna Falcone says
Seeds – soil – nutrients – These kept bringing forth images of that terrific little book you published a few years back – Inspired. I’d been resistent to forms, admittedly – but this book was such an open inviation, self paced, and always there to return to for guidance. Form poetry with training wheels. 🙂
The Growth Model for Education really resonates with me. The way I see it, every single step along the way requires a certain level of trust which flows back and forth, between both or all parties involved. Trust of self. Trust of other. Trust of the patterns we notice about learning … like this one: “both students and adults will—when they believe they have a true choice and they feel inspired and are given useful tools—choose to move along a continuum rather than remain stuck.”
It’s beautiful – so much space, here.
Accidental Blocks? Ego. Ego. and Ego. The whole process can (and, of course, does) become interrupted by the ego’s need to assert itself (which is why trust is so important – and enough space to expect our ego to stick out it’s leg and prove how powerful it is, to notice it, and then to recover and move on). This can show up as defensiveness, perseveration on one aspect of a poem at the cost of the entire piece, and probably finding a variety of ways to become disinterested.
L.L. Barkat says
Donna, I would love to see this model spread (like dandelions! 🙂 ), especially for the reasons you note: where we were resistant we find we can be inspired. It’s like the way that tough (and protective) seed coat has to be softened and broken through before the life within an actual seed can be catalyzed.
I believe it takes trust, yes. So the teacher becomes a Growth Coach more than a teacher. And maybe (for the teacher) that hits the ego, too, and maybe not (personally, I love the idea of being a coach, which can involve aspects of teaching but more squarely depends on the person being coached to choose his/her way through the model; this doesn’t mean the teacher disappears, but rather can become a resource for materials and inspiration… I need to write about this aspect of The Growth Model as well. I’ll get there! 🙂 )
Tell me about disinterest.
Donna Falcone says
Because it’s possible that what looks like disinterest is actually a self defense move – a type of dissociation.
L.L. Barkat says
Yes. Most often seen in children through the declaration, “I’m bored.”
What do you believe is the source of the need for self defense in education?
L.L. Barkat says
And, thanks for bringing this up. I added a poem on the matter, to the post. (This is the poem I added above: http://us2.forward-to-friend.com/forward/preview?u=9e5e4dd4731a9649c1dd1cf58&id=786cd3d712 ).
Because I think we have many systems which pretend to help people grow, but in the end, well… the poem.
Donna Falcone says
Oh… that poem. That Sonia. Yes, exactly.
Donna Falcone says
I would love to. 🙂
Donna Falcone says
Coming from an Early Childhood Education perspective, what do I see as the deepest reason that self defense is needed in education? I believe that children’s needs are not at the top of the priority list most of the time, and teachers are under a lot of pressure to meet unrealistic demands and outcomes goals…. The demands lead to environments that are not at all conducive to experiential learning of early childhood, and forces a very harmful cascade of interactions that can lead children to put up defenses and the three that come to mind are 1.) retreat, 2.) strike out, and 3.) dissociate.
For example, I have seen children come to school with traumatic experiences happening at home – if these children aren’t given any space to process and express and learn to talk about their inner lives they will retreat, act out, or dissociate.
Another thing I have seen a lot is adults use sarcasm with young children who can’t possibly understand it as humorous and only find it confusing and sometimes see it for what it actually is – meanness – again, they will retreat, strike out, or dissociate.
All of these are defenses. None of them help the child unless someone notices and uses their observations to help the child put words to what is going on…. Emotional intelligence. Emotional literacy.
Just a few thoughts. This topic is enormous.
Donna Falcone says
(I realize that had nothing to do with poetry, though. Should it?)
L.L. Barkat says
No need for it to relate to poetry; I was asking a larger education question, which you answered beautifully. (And now it’s time for you to write an article on this, because it needs to go beyond the comment box 🙂 ).
Will Willingham says
Heh. I was just commenting on another post that you have referred to exploring our resistance in the past. I guess I should have said “in the present, literally.” 😉
Donna Falcone says
I was thinking the same thing, LW. 😉
Will Willingham says
One thing (of many) that I love about this is that, in the best L.L. Barkat way, the article approaches the perennial question “Is poetry dead?” not as cause for giving a defense of poetry, but really of allowing poetry to be its own defense while getting after the business of looking at what is inside such a question, why it is asked, what the inquirer might need, either of the question or of poetry. And then it invites a person in. Always, there is invitation.
L.L. Barkat says
In traveling along The Growth Model continuum just as a friend and a manager (yes, I envision this model as being applicable beyond education and beyond poetry), I have tried to grow on this point in particular (so I’m really happy that it’s working a little 🙂 ) : treating questions as questions even if they aren’t presenting as the actual questions that need to be asked. I think that too often as parents, as teachers, as people, we shut off questions. Why do you suppose we do that?
L.L. Barkat says
I should add that I loved this, in what you said here: “what the inquirer might need, either of the question or of poetry.”
Will Willingham says
I don’t know why we do, though part of it may be that we are more comfortable asking questions that we have answers for. We can be prone to using questions as a means to an end (and sometimes a noble end) and sometimes miss the gift of a question itself. 🙂
L.L. Barkat says
Oh, I meant why do we stop other people from asking questions. (As opposed to stopping ourselves from asking questions—which is also such an interesting… question. 🙂 )
Megan Willome says
One thing that made me very happy in the poetry & memoir workshop is that the participants entered at different levels on the continuum and many of them sought to learn more. They would look up things or seek out resources for how to interact better with poetry (both reading and writing it) and share them. We all learned from each other.
L.L. Barkat says
Yes, a happy thing! 🙂
Were there ways you believe this was facilitated either by format, you, or the group itself?
Sandra Heska King says
Megan was the workshop leader, yes. But she came to the group as a learner, too. It felt like we were all in this thing together. There was a lot of trust because some words were written from a place of deep pain. There was a lot of encouragement but also loving critique–what we could do better. I think everyone would say we grew closer. Funny how poetry can do that.
Sandra Heska King says
Accidental blocks… fear. I remember the fear I felt in high school when I would sit quiet for fear of being “wrong.” Fear after writing a paper on a poem in a college English Lit class and being so excited about what I was finding in it–only to be told I was way off base. Fear of engaging because others sound so mature. There’s fear of sharing words that are so amateur–fear that even if people are encouraging, maybe they are actually shaking their heads behind the screen. And there’s fear of claiming the title of “poet.” Perhaps it all comes back to “ego” as Donna said above. And I do think dares have made me brave.
Katie says
Fascinating conversation here!
“Ego” seems to keep coming up and reminded me of a wonderful book I read recently titled Ego Is the Enemy by Ryan Holiday. Highly recommend.
L.L. Barkat says
Thanks for sharing, Katie. In what way do you think ego fits/doesn’t fit with how The Growth Model works?
Or, to put it another way, in what ways might ego work against the aim of growth, and in what ways might it actually fuel growth?