Transparency Item: The Perspectives section of the Graphic is comprised of articles based on opinion. This is the opinion and perspective of the writer.
As a kid, I rarely went anywhere without books. I was able to focus on the story in crowded places full of noise and could remember important details long after I finished the book.
This habit has dwindled somewhat in my adult life, and my concentration is not at all what it used to be. However, I’ve recently made a more dedicated effort to keep books in my life, not only because it’s part of who I am but because I find it to be one of the most restful things I can do with my time.
My love for reading has always been centered around prose, and my bookshelf is exclusively short story collections and longer novels. I am not nearly as familiar with poetry and have failed several times in trying to immerse myself in that world.
Even if I find poems I think are amazing, it’s usually after I’ve waded through several poems I sort of hated. I don’t think I’m alone in this feeling.
From what I’ve observed, poetry is one of the less popular forms of writing, and most readers I know are used to prose as well and find it easier to see the meaning in a dense book rather than poetry.
However, I think I’m unintentionally getting an introduction to poetry through music. Regina Spektor’s musings on religion and relationships, underscored by lighthearted vocals, have prompted me to think in more detail about my own worldview.
In “Silent All These Years” by Tori Amos, she attacks in one verse what seems like a hundred ideas and is as poignant a writer as she is a musician. Other artists, including Tracy Chapman and Joni Mitchell, write from personal experiences that have reached numerous people.
I think it’s fascinating that these songs take on different meanings, and have a different impact, as people get older and experience new things.
I think one of the things I’ve gleaned from my new interest in song lyrics is that, for me, poetry is more powerful when I’m hearing it. Poets often seek out places where they can read their work out loud, and I think it’s because one of poetry’s functions is its musical quality, which I personally recognize better when it’s spoken.
I also think reading prose is very different from reading poetry, and I have to remember that difference if I don’t want to get frustrated. I’m used to thinking broadly about the plots and characterizations in books, not necessarily dissecting individual sentences.
Mary Oliver, a poet famous for her work on birds and the natural world, posed the question to her readers, “What is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?” It’s a wonderful line, but I have the feeling that if I had come across it on a page, I wouldn’t have found it particularly moving.
I heard this question when I watched the movie “Nyad” a few months ago, and it’s still floating around in my head. I had never thought about my life as being “wild” and “precious” at the same time, yet, in an emotional sense, it rings true.
As I’ve started to read more poetry, I’m starting to try out different ways to read without becoming frustrated at what I don’t understand. I don’t know the technical nuances concerning what makes “good” poetry, and I don’t have nearly the same confidence in understanding it as I do with prose.
However, I don’t know that there’s a “how” when it comes to reading poetry. Good poetry, in my opinion, could speak to anyone, and it is written to capture experiences that may be more complicated than what can be explained in plain speech.
I’m still an amateur reader of poetry, and, even if I’ve encountered a lot that doesn’t speak to me, I’ve inadvertently encountered life-altering messages. As I move forward with discovering the things that do speak to me, I would guess that there’s something there, wild and precious, for everybody.
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Contact Alyssa Johnson via email: alyssa.johnson@pepperdine.edu
