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Andrew, I remember a review in which the male reviewer (whose name I have forgotten) criticized Alicia Stallings' poems for having no philosophy. I was shocked that he could not see that there is a humane, thoughtful, consistent world-view underpinning her work and that that is a philosophy, too, one that fits well with what poetry is trying to do. Too often the writers, usually male, who complain that there is no philosophy in a particular poet's work are looking for some kind of treatise on "the big issues" and not a poem at all. The great poems are a coming to terms with life in all of its complexity. Sometimes that coming to terms is expressed in ideas; sometimes the ideas are embodied in an experience or the poet's complicated response to it.
--Susan M.
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I like a lot of kinds of poetry, Susan. Variety is the spice, etc., and this isn’t about rules or restrictions. But I find there is very little current poetry that creates the sort of “entire world” of altered consciousness that Nemo mentions in an earlier post on this thread. In my own writing, I myself rarely pull off a shred of it. It can’t be forced or contrived, so I slog along and look for it where I can get it.
You bring up the poetry of Alicia Stallings, and Julie brings up Rhina Espaillat, and I admit (bring on the fire and brimstone!) that I don’t find that quality in their work. Brilliant writing and striking insight, yes, but not that. I like it but it is not what I most want in poetry. If we are naming names, I will say that among the best-known “formalist” and anthologized poets who do it for me, David Mason in his lyrics probably comes closest. There are others too who are less well known.
You can turn it into a women’s issue, but here’s my five-word response to that: Hildegaard of Bingen. Emily Dickinson.
The neo-formalist aesthetic in general tends to downplay the visionary and hermetic for the practical and skeptical; it favors Larkin over Yeats. For me the priorities or criteria are reversed. Larkin was a good poet, but I’m not sure he knew the difference between Plato and Playdough, or metaphysics and Marmite.
Ok, I guess I’ve just committed Spheresy. Bring on the Inquisitors!
Meanwhile, I’m hoping that Bill Lantry has more to say on this:
“Those are the two questions that most interest me: what can we say about beauty, and why are we so reluctant to say anything about it?” So far I draw a blank. But the questions are evocative.