The old joke goes: “I’m not a doctor, but I play one on TV.” And, of course, any word could be substituted for “doctor”–even “poet.”
Wendell Berry’s poem “How To Be a Poet” got me to thinking: Is there, as with Taoism, a “way”? When my students insist they cannot write poetry, I show them Naomi Shihab Nye’s One Boy Told Me, a found poem consisting of wonder straight from the mouth of her young son.
“We’re all poets when we’re little,” she says. For young writers who all share on their résumés this thing called “childhood,” it’s helpful. Each student can recollect things they said and noticed as a kid, and if they can’t, they need only interview their parents for homework and come back “poets” the next day!
But back to Wendell Berry. His “how-to” is more poetic, as you might expect. Thus, would-be poets thinking in terms of black berets, happening cafés, and certain prescribed ways need not apply. If muses could be bought in a bottle, after all, every alchemist would sell them.
How To Be a Poet
(to remind myself)
18 thoughts on “How To Be a Poet”
love it, especially the end (grasshopper)!
Speaking of “playing one on TV,” the word “grasshopper” left an indelible mark on many of our minds! Thank you, Anna.
Can’t begin to tell you how much I love that poem.
Glad you liked it, Angela. I’m just discovering Wendell Berry’s poetry. So many poets, so little time (as someone almost said).
We’re all born some kind of poet. Here is one idea to pull it out and make it show.
I have a big bowl
of marbles I collected
as I grew ancient.
They are of many sizes;
wood, metal and glass.
There are cats’ eyes,
bulls’ eyes, and bulgers.
It’s a poem of color.
How to be a poet: Collect words or thoughts that occur to you as important. Write the word or thought on a scrap of paper. and put them in a container. Whenever you feel inclined, take a few of them out and arrange them in a way that you like. Fill in the spaces. You have written a poem. A group can do this too as a game..
Very good–words as marbles. Collect. Mix. Play. I like it!
Thank You. I’m hoping to keep my B grade average.
The day of gentlemen’s C’s is past. Kids these days consider “C” and “average” to be flunking. Or kids’ parents do, more precisely.
It’s all about acceptance by the crowd you want to run with. Many poets have an aversion to running in a crowd. But, you have to live in the world first and be creative second, don’t you…? Don’t you…?
Are these rhetorical questions? Rhetorical questions?
Provocative. Evaluate your pain threshhold before you begin, Is your way the rose or the spade?
Now you’ve lost me. In other words?
I hope this helps elucidate my mumble.
CUT OR LIVE
I shall give you a poem
Let us walk in the garden
I’ll compare thee to this rose
lovely, sweet, and fresh
he said with his knife
and they parted
_____________________
My poem for you
will be my heart and soul
I will spade from the dirt
that would only keep it buried
except for I thrust in hands
crumble the clods with love
fertilize it with sacrifice
and water it with sweat
and love with patience
until it’s blooms envy
the kiss of your lips
he said on his knee
and they wed
©Copyright 2018 Douglas Montgomery. by permission.
Ah, I see. Thank you for sharing this!
Excellent! I also love Berry’s “Manifesto: The Mad Farmer Liberation Front”, which taught me how poetry can be political without succumbing to tendentiousness: https://cals.arizona.edu/~steidl/Liberation.html
Love the quick profit, the annual raise,
vacation with pay. Want more
of everything ready-made. Be afraid
to know your neighbors and to die.
And you will have a window in your head.
Not even your future will be a mystery
any more. Your mind will be punched in a card
and shut away in a little drawer.
When they want you to buy something
they will call you. When they want you
to die for profit they will let you know.
So, friends, every day do something
that won’t compute. Love the Lord.
Love the world. Work for nothing.
Take all that you have and be poor.
Love someone who does not deserve it.
Denounce the government and embrace
the flag. Hope to live in that free
republic for which it stands.
Give your approval to all you cannot
understand. Praise ignorance, for what man
has not encountered he has not destroyed.
Ask the questions that have no answers.
Invest in the millennium. Plant sequoias.
Say that your main crop is the forest
that you did not plant,
that you will not live to harvest.
Say that the leaves are harvested
when they have rotted into the mold.
Call that profit. Prophesy such returns.
Put your faith in the two inches of humus
that will build under the trees
every thousand years.
Listen to carrion — put your ear
close, and hear the faint chattering
of the songs that are to come.
Expect the end of the world. Laugh.
Laughter is immeasurable. Be joyful
though you have considered all the facts.
So long as women do not go cheap
for power, please women more than men.
Ask yourself: Will this satisfy
a woman satisfied to bear a child?
Will this disturb the sleep
of a woman near to giving birth?
Go with your love to the fields.
Lie easy in the shade. Rest your head
in her lap. Swear allegiance
to what is nighest your thoughts.
As soon as the generals and the politicos
can predict the motions of your mind,
lose it. Leave it as a sign
to mark the false trail, the way
you didn’t go. Be like the fox
who makes more tracks than necessary,
some in the wrong direction.
Practice resurrection.
Thanks for sharing that, W.D. Berry, I’ve learned, has quite the following.
Do you not mean Wendell E Berry, the poet, environmentalist, and farmer?
Yes.