The basis of this question is the feeling I've had on occasions that some poems are 'too well written'. It's bit of a non-question, in one sense, because if a poem was supremely written I shouldn't have that feeling. But I think you may get my drift if I suggest that sometimes very fine craftmanship with inviting images, and a disciplined form, can combine to lessen the strength of emotional response. Sometimes, I feel, a blunter and less formal approach would serve better. I can find myself saying to the writer: "I want to hear a shout, a scream, for chrissakes!"

Anything discussible here?

Cheers

milner

Dear Milner

Very well said....
thank you for starting this thread.

For the moment let me paste in here
what i posted elsewhere .....and i will return
in a day or two after my short sojourn to Block Island
to visit with Lisa Starr and a few of her other guests.

http://www.bipoetryproject.com/

For me this topic ....'Can we write too well?'
has an important place in the universal awareness.

And i agree that there should always be lively discussion with regard to....

When the studied expression of craft overshadows
the vibrancy of art have we succumbed to the ego of
rules and regulations ?

As well as asking

When does societal critique smother creative authenticity ?



And if i may... also another subject that i offered

This is an extremely interesting & inspirational topic ......
the different levels of delivery of a poem....
the performed, the written and the visual.

 in the thread
http://www.poetrycircle.com/index.php/topic,12375.0.html

Perhaps it is because the experience is in the reader. Reading a work that conveys a sense that comes up short on emotion, wit or scale is a consequence of the text as interpreted/experienced. So, does that mean the piece is in fact well written or merely well crafted?

When the writing doesn’t meet the expectation, I often wonder if it’s because the work leaves too little for the reader to do. Now this may not be applicable to essays, although good ones engage the reader in the discussion.

?larry

And sometimes there is too much for the reader to do. Over done construction and 40 dollar words drive readers away faster'n flies find ----.

I'm thinking

Agree Lavonne. The work I think that is rewarding is the inferencing, not looking up words. Using words to mine what we do not know is different than finding words to illustrate what we already know.

larry

I can't say I've experienced this as a problem on this board.

sometimes it is very possible to overwrite a piece, taking it past the best it can be, by cramming in an extra notion, or taking out a troublesome or uncomfortable section for the smoothness of the piece, but sacrificing a grittier earthier "truth".

Writers are luckier than visual artists in this regard...at least we can retreat to an earlier draft if we recognise the need to!

Interesting thread.

I bought Donald Hall's collected works a few years ago.  I had read one poem in the AWP Chronicle some years earlier that rocked me -- it was so good.  But the volume of work (large) was a struggle -- and I didn't read a great many of the poems, which I'm certain were technically supreme in every way.  And I'm also certain in my own mind that to other readers of the same works I found somehow "less" these very poems were as much as they could possibly be, rich and satisfying on every count.   

I subscribe to and receive a poem a week from ALP [Ted Kooser selects and sends poems by other poets to my email].  I mention these poems, poems that I thoroughly enjoy 8 oiut of 10 time, because whatever it is that makes me a huge fan of Ted Kooser's work, also must influence his choices when selecting work to post on ALP.  On the other hand, I subscribe to and receive the Knopf poem a day postings during April's Poetry Month.  Of the 18 days of poems so far received, I have only been moved by one to think, Ah, Now that's something. 

The difference in these poetic works sent to me is in the tastes and preferences of the sender and how their preferences appeal to me, what my experience can bring to each piece.   "too well written" may well be the cause, or something along those lines, as to why I find celebrated work flat.  Or, I may not have the refined nature necessary to appreciate them.  All I know is that I read, I react, or I fail to react.

Different esthetic/poetic sensibilities determine when this issue kicks in. Some people are more into artistry than rawness, just as in furniture, fashion, or anything else. Who ever pleases everyone in poetry? I think it's by definition impossible, one of the defining features of the art form, the technique SO powerful in how readers are struck.

we can certainly write too well for our own good.

In Shakespeare's day, poems written too carefully were said to smell of the lamp, as in, "How long did you stay up writing *that* dog, Chauncey?"  Hakiu poets have a saying, "If the haiku gets in the way of the Zen, throw out the Zen," and Richard Hugo in one of his books says that if a word sounds right but the meaning doesn't fit, go for the word anyway.  I think they're talking about intentionality.  If a poem comes only from the poet's conscious mind,"Today I will write a poem about X," it will miss the richness that comes from one leaping up out of the Void, as in, "I don't know where the hell that came from.  I don't even remember writing it.  The only reason I know it's mine is that it's in my journal in my hand, and I don't copy other people's poetry there."  A poem like that is going to have a lot of juicy tension in it. 

That said, can a reader fail to get a poem because the reader is rigid in expectations or too lazy to try to stretch?  Yep.   There are mental ruts that beckon me to fall into them all the time.

Excerpts from PoetryCircle member Khế Iêm's essay on VIETNAMESE NEW FORMALISM:

Guernica, one of Picasso’s masterpieces, had been critiqued as:  “a hodgepodge of body parts that any four year-old could have painted.”  Yet perhaps it is because of such carefree strokes that created real emotions in the observer and elevated this painting to one of the greatest artwork of all times.  Being too perfect, too refined, too polished can come across as artificial.  Carefree abandonment and errors, affirm honesty.

The Chinese writer Lin Yutang juxtaposes:  “An American editor worries his hair grey trying to eliminate all errors from his magazine while a Chinese editor is more witty, allowing these errors to pass through to the readers and let them relish in finding mistakes.”

And so, when we are too persistent in identifying the wrong or right of words, languages or good-bad values, that is when we truly make mistakes. 

I've been thinking alot about this lately and I know I've been guilty of trying to do this--don't think I've actually written anything that was written too well, but I've made myself miserable trying to.

I should actually be relieved to know that some of my favorite poets feel this way, because I feel this way too.  Now, I don't have to worry about sounding good, or posh, or intelligent, or cool, or erotic, or neurotic, or scientific, or dark or light, I can just be me.  And not worry at all.

What I struggle with more than anything is engaging the reader.  I don't think I'm concerned with impressing anyone so much anymore--it doesn't and hasn't paid off, but now, not being boring?  That's a hell of a trip I can't seem to take.

One problem is that we all have different minds.  What may be boring to one person may be cheesecake to another or the hottest things since buttered bread to someone else.

So, ultimately speaking, maybe what we do is find an environment we're comfortable in (whether challenging or not) and we learn to write, according to the subtle, or not so subtle dictates of that environment.

If I want to learn to write like Milner or Riordan, why shouldn't I?  And maybe a Crowther is a little over my head sometimes, but at least he doesn't mind me telling him and he even stays in the sandbox with me.  Then there are the Maggies and the Lynns both comforting me and provoking me to move out of my comfort zone.

When I get ready to write like Emily Dickinson and William Shakespeare, I'll sign off the internet and never read another Rick, Larry, Sue, Howard, or Lavonne again.

But I don't think that will be anytime soon.

Cheryl, Don't worry about engaging the reader; engage yourself with how to say what it is you want to say
as clearly as you can, because that done well is what engages a reader.


I think a poet should feel free enough to take his energy, tone and voice to any environment. No walls, unless they are in a form of his choosing. Why restrict curiosity?


Oh, but you should imitate Emily and Will, who might really have just been the front man for Edward de Vere
and others who may have collaborated to produce that extraordinary collection of work as was done in 'Henry VI Part I;  my favorite supposition being Christopher Marlowe's death was faked and he was spirited off to Italy where he continued to write for the stage through Will, but I digress. ;)

You should imitate writers you enjoy, Cheryl. It's schooling.
It won't turn you into them, it just focuses your muse to
be able recognize what works in your own writing and
when you read or review the work of others later on.

The delight of trying to write like Shakespeare, or whoever, is that it makes reading him a whole new experience, because you're not just a reader anymore, you're a poet reading a fellow poet, a student learning from the a master to appreciate the nuances of skill in any century.

Here are the opening lines of the prologue in Henry V:

"O for a muse of fire, that would ascend
The brightest heaven of invention:"

Isn't this what we all want to have going for us in the language department
when we sit down and try to clothe a concept? A muse who rises to the occasion.
Well, we have to feed that muse.

So, imitate like crazy: one line, one phrase or a whole poem; imitate Milner, Tom, Bob the Science guy, Emily and Will, and Elliot and Coleridge and Plath and Sexton and Berrigan and everyone else that interests you.
Give them your rainy afternoons.

Maggie

"Will, who might really have just been the front man for Edward de Vere
and others who may have collaborated to produce that extraordinary collection of work as was done in 'Henry VI Part I;  my favorite supposition being Christopher Marlowe's death was faked and he was spirited off to Italy where he continued to write for the stage through Will."

I really, really object to those ideas that Shakespeare didn't write his works. There is plenty of evidence that he did write his own plays, and not a shred to suggest anyone else specifically wrote them. Bill Bryson did a pretty good job regarding Shakespeare in his biography. Not that it really matters, but just couldn't help myself!

thanks

James