I presented a fierce poem about child abuse to a group of five poets recently, and four of them told me that its subject was not fit for poetry.
Last year, I was asked why I didn't write any love poems. I answered, "Because the subject's well-covered by better poets than I."
Personally, I feel that the subject of a poem is irrelevant until the poet makes art of it.
A gazillion poets jumped on September 11 as the subject of a poem. I avoided it. (I don't rush off to Pamplona.) I was surprised, at an April reading (Robert Creeley Day) that Galway Kinnell read a work-in-progress about September 11. Well, he lives in the neighborhood. And what he read reached quite beyond the scope of the event.
I have no trouble writing about a sinister sole or a sigmoidoscopy: the subjects delight me. I have a great deal of trouble writing about the standard subjects: love, death, sex, and poetry.
I'd love to hear how the subjects of your poems develop. I'm currently developing a piece about a peculiar fish I discovered in Scientific American. The poem may make the fish an emblem for greed. Then again, it may not. I'm quite sure that it won't be a poem about love, death, sex, or poetry.
Bob
[This message has been edited by Robert J. Clawson (edited July 25, 2002).]
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