What Poetry Is

“Poetry is the spontaneous overflow of powerful feelings: it takes its origin from emotion recollected in tranquility.”

— William Wordsworth, Lyrical Ballads

“I shall not today attempt further to define the kinds of material I understand to be embraced within that shorthand description, and perhaps I could never succeed in intelligibly doing so. But I know it when I see it”

— Justice Potter Stewart, Jacobellis v. Ohio, 378 U.S. 184 (1964)

As with all novices or apprentices, it begins with the definitions of the masters, those that came before, those that conquered the craft or perfected the form. For me, that began with Wordsworth, lingered a while with Whitman, before slowly sauntering through the Modernists before settling somewhere indistinct, nebulous, and absurd. A concept that once had a rigid structure and form slowly eroded into a question. Instead of the certainty of: “This is a poem!”, I now have a meme.

Like Justice Potter Stewart’s test for obscenity, sometimes I think poetry is something instinctual and obvious. But often, I do not know poetry even when it is gift-wrapped and presented to me. I find that my search for meaning, my quest for aesthetics, my recognition of beauty is an internal pursuit, a struggle of selves, a juxtaposition of preconceived notions and interiority against the world, against the perspective of others, against even my own perspective at times. Sometimes I find a poem sitting cross-legged of my kitchen counter and looking awfully like a bruised lime. Sometimes, I read another’s poem and see only words on a page.

“There is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so.”

—William Shakespeare, Hamlet

So, what is a poem? I don’t claim to know. Sometimes I think I do, and the thinking makes it so.  But often, I find myself questioning my need for concreteness and certainty even in my definitions. What I do know is that the work of others helps me expand the edges of the concept, the boundaries of myself. Opening myself up to the experiences, art, and perspectives of others pushes me to grow, forces me to do battle with preconceived notions, outdated models, and unconsidered, untested convictions.

All this to say, here at Audi Locus, we invite you to help us expand our definitions. We invite you to show us what you think a poem is, what work a poem does, what form a poem takes. Because in sharing your definition, you help us expand our own. Thank you for helping us, and our readers, grow by sharing of yourselves.