Even though my own attempts to write poetry have convinced me that I am a prose writer who should stick to what she does best, I often long to be able to write poetry. I envy a poet's ability to make language sing. I feel as Flaubert did when he complained that all he was capable of doing was banging on cracked pots when what he longed to do was to move the stars. So, while April is the cruelest month up here in northern New York, I love April's tribute to poetry.
For those who are not familiar with poetry, this book is a perfect amuse-bouche or several for the neophyte to curl up with. And, for the veteran fan of poetry, it's a wonderful collection of some of poetry's brightest stars' greatest hits. I would consider teaching this book in one of my writing courses. I have started having students in my "writing for magazines' course read a collection of poetry each semester, because I want to make certain that I produce students who will feel comfortable reviewing poetry collections, and to affirm for the poets among the group that I think the genre is deserving of being taken as seriously as we take prose. Perhaps even more so.
What makes ESSENTIAL POEMS so wonderful is that the publishing company, Open Road Integrated Media, has unlocked the key that allows a poem on an electronic reading device look like a poem that you would see in a paper book. Poets lay out their words in a particular way for serious, not-to-be-messed with reasons. It would be frustrating if one were to open a book of poetry to find the words scattered or jumbled on the page or a sonnet that looks like a prose poem instead of its distinct shape. What a shame it would be if Robin Morgan's "Arraignment" were not to be in the shape of a voice gaining courage as it declares its "J'accuse!" against Ted Hughes?
How can
I accuse
Ted Hughes
of what the entire British and American
literary and critical establishment
has been at great lengths to deny,
without ever saying it in so many words, of course:
the murder of Sylvia Plath
?
Whether one thinks Morgan's accusations against Hughes to be unfair, or if one sees him as the husband who drove his wife to suicide, the ability to read the poem as it was intended allows the reader to notice the build-up of Morgan's voice.
Or the incomparable May Sarton, who taught us about solitude. Her lines are presented as she intended.
Read between the lines.
Then meet me in the silence if you can,
The long silence of winter when I shall
Make poems out of nothing, out of loss,
And at times hear your healing laughter.
Or the anguish conveyed in the poem without punctuation as "No Goodbyes" by the too-soon gone Paul Monette:
for hours at the end I kissed your temple stroked
your hair and sniffed it it smelled so clean we'd
washed it Saturday night when the fever broke
as if there was always the perfect thing to do
to be alive for years I'd breathe your hair
when I came to bed late it was such pure you
and so on, until he breaks our heart:
my darling one last graze in the meadow
of you and please let your final dream be
a man not quite your size losing the whole
world but still here combing combing
singing your secret names till the night's gone
This book should be a great gift for the new e-reader owner. Perhaps a chance to appreciate that poetry can be read on the new technology without losing any of its magic will make even the most ardent tech head make room for the poet in his or her collection.
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