Saturday 28 October 2017

Why is poetry important?


I suppose, the easiest answer to this would be that poetry is only something important to those who love literature and understand it, but like poetry - this answer isn't something that is supposed to be easy. How you interpret poetry is how it affects you and I believe that it affects everyone; if even just a little.

According to the Oxford dictionaries poetry is defined as;

Literary work in which the expression of feelings and ideas is given intensity by the use of distinctive style and rhythm; poems collectively or as a genre of literature.

But if poetry is all about interpretation, why is there a definition that limits it?

Poetry is important to me because it helps me express how I'm feeling and in general gives me something to work on, for some people that's reading about physics or working with watercolours. For myself, it is poetry. Poetry is something that brings me joy because when read it makes you think. About what exactly? I don't know and a lot of the time I'll admit, I stare at a poem unable to decipher it's deeper meaning or message but I believe that's where it holds a vast amount of power. When I write a poem, sure I let other people read it and I love if they like it, but I didn't write it for them. I write for myself, and I think even if your career is all about poetry and you're Owen Sheers or Carol Ann Duffy, you still write for yourself. To make yourself proud because a feeling, thought or memory you've had is finally in words that you feel are right. Self expression through any form of media, literature or art will always be for the individual. Not everybody has to understand the story or relate to it, they can just appreciate that it's exactly the way the poet wanted it to be written to describe it.

A lot of people (I know a few) don't understand poetry and don't want to understand it and that's okay. I myself don't like coffee (I know, judge me), but that doesn't mean I can't appreciate the smell of it and all that coffee has done for others, how it makes them feel and the power it creates (c'mon, Starbucks?).  So ignoring that weird metaphor, you don't have to like or even acknowledge poetry for it to still be powerful. Yet, I'm sure a lot of people are actually unaware of what poetry has actually done except give the stereotype that all poets are pretentious and we only read poetry because we want to sound smart (that's just down to personality).

One of my friends really appreciates rap and many people state that rap is either a form of poetry or something similar. 
My friend stated the following:
"I listen to rap because I can relate to it more than other forms of expression. A lot of it is about coming from a poorer area and managing to just power through and 'come up'. I can appreciate lyrics like Kendrick Lamar's, but not relate to them because of the links to violence and gangs, because I've never experienced that but I understand it and still want to listen to him.
Tyler, The Creator is someone I relate to because it's about a kid who doesn't know who he is or where he's going, and that's easier to relate to for me. He has a song 'Pot Holes' and he explains how material items make him feel good and how the road in front of him has pot holes that make it more difficult for the expensive car he's driving."

Perhaps we can take from this that a lot of the ways we interpret lyrics or poetry has a lot to do with ourselves. If you search for yourself in someone else's story it helps you not only understand your own feelings but appreciate theirs. I don't hold any expertise when it comes to rap so I'm not going to answer whether I believe it's a form of poetry, because it holds its own as a genre of music, but that's not to say I can't see the links because I definitely can. 

However, staying with the theme of music, poetry has inspired countless songs that you're probably either familiar with or wish you were:
  • '39 - Queen
  • Bare Trees - Fleetwood Mac
  • Bring Your Daughter to the Slaughter - Iron Maiden
  • Colour Spectrum - Coldplay
  • Golden Slumber - The Beatles
  • I Wanna Be Yours - Arctic Monkeys
  • The Man Who Sold the World - David Bowie
I could go on and on about the link between music and poetry. All of these songs either take lyrics from, are based on or are inspired by poetry. They might not exist and definitely wouldn't be the same without poetry. Hence, it must be brought to attention that poetry might not be important to you, but it can lead to something that is.

...But you still don't have to like poetry. You're very welcome to hate it because that means that somehow it's had an effect on you. Poetry as a collective or maybe as a single poem or maybe by proxy, has had an effect on you somehow whether you acknowledge it or not; One-line poems, Sonnets, Slam poetry, Limericks, Haiku, ect...
The are so many forms it's difficult to even comprehend that none of these can manage to speak to some people, because that's okay. I'm sure they like tea instead of coffee.

Therefore, poetry doesn't have to be important to everyone and the fact of the matter is that it's not. Yet, poetry is important because of it's social, political and economic effects. It raises questions about tough topics such as mental health. It presents individuals with a solace. It gives collectives a way to connect. It provides a means of self-expression. It affects other forms of self-expression. 
It is often just ink on paper, but it is powerful ink on paper, and that is important to me.







Saturday 21 October 2017

A Fresh Start

 

 

A Fresh Start.

So, for some reason I decided that starting a blog would be good for me. Hopefully I'll keep at it because I think having an outlet for my opinions, thoughts and work will benefit me (somehow). I already have a lot of ideas about what I'm going to post, but this blog is more for myself than getting my work out there (that would just be a great bonus). Whether it's just my mam or my friends who read this, or even just me, I'm sure that this is a positive thing. Therefore, I thought it would only be right if I started by giving a quick overview of how I came to have one of the best experiences of the year.
The Beacons Project, 2017.
This project, funded by the Welsh Gov and run by Hay Festival of Literature and Arts, has been possibly one of the best things to happen to me. Not only did it finalise the "Yes! I really do love literature! This is what I want to do! I can build a career out of this!" thought I'd been turning over in my head for God knows how long, but it introduced me to experiences, people and literature that I'll forever be thankful for.
This fairy-tale story began after I wrote a sequence of sonnets for the English Prize for my school Eisteddfod. I worked really hard on them and drew the emotion from a personal experience I had. The theme was "Fake News", but instead of taking a political Donald Trump-esque route like a few of my peers, I decided to focus my poems on rumours and how they affect the individual, the person who spreads the rumours, and the collective group who just watch what's going on and spread the rumours further. I chose this because I'd gone through something similar as the individual and hadn't really dealt with it. No time like the present, right? (Technically the past is what I'm talking about here but I'm reflecting so rhetorical questions are necessary).
 This was the first time I had ever attempted to write poetry for myself but I was so proud of what I'd written that I feel comfortable enough to share it with whoever you are (if you want to, or you could just skip it).
RUMOURS I
Have you heard the fake news?
Whispers floating down the impish street.
Now opprobrious instead of a muse,
no longer respectable, pure or neat.
Looking at the filthy floor,
hanging down her head
and not seeing the truth she saw before,
only seeing red.
Then she cries
about what she knows is real  -
not the lies.
Why should she suffer this ordeal?
So she stands stern for all to see,
the rumours about her, the fake news about me.
RUMOURS II
Relaying false realities
from the sharpness of my tongue
creating numerous casualties
whilst the fiction is still young.
With a slight whisper here,
an adroit blather there,
until you can hold their fear
and they're caught in the snare
of crying and shame
towards an anonymous source
not knowing who they should blame
for the false news that hold such force.
Why do I do it the familiars ask?
If I don't someone else will complete the task.
RUMOURS III
We don't know her face
which is filled with regret,
only her case
that was spitefully set
by an Ossa of prowess
who sought to diminish
the confidence she held to confess
that she didn't want to finish
her growth and light
that shone so brightly on those surrounding,
but without the will to fight
the rumours are compounding
her, even though she knows what's real.
We don't (but we do), so how should we feel?
TRUTH
It finds the way out eventually,
then everybody knows
that although she’s okay essentially
it’s the scarring not the blows
to her self esteem and reputation
that have a hold on her still.
Is she out of this damnation?
She’s changed now with her battle and will
to forget the drip and drops of liars
or the thieves of calm
and extinguish the fires
and to finally disarm
them and create her own.
The fake news that taunted, finally overthrown.
The day of the Eisteddfod came and I came 3rd and I was incredibly happy about it, especially because it was something relatively new to me. After this though I pretty much focused on school work because exams were looming; I didn't have much time to write any more poetry or even read it. Until one English lesson we were handed a letter about entering the Beacons Project competition for creative writing. The Project included meeting and talking to a wide variety of authors and influential workers within the Literature and Theatre community, going to lectures about a rage of compelling subjects but most importantly learning about how to break into the industry and develop our own work. All of this across 4 days at Hay Festival.
I entered.
Obviously.
20 A-level pupils from across Wales were selected for it out of the hundreds that applied and I'm still proud to say that I was fortunate to receive one of those places by submitting my collection of sonnets. I will never tire of saying that because the experience was life changing (sorry for the dramatics - it really feels that way). 
I'm pretty sure I'm going to have to split what happened each day into a series of blog posts because I don't want to skim the details, but I also don't want to write something that goes on for eternity. Leaving the post here will create suspense right? Isn't that how this works?