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Poetry Is Warfare
A poem is the writer’s battle plea
Against asceticism’s barren call.
Truth and beauty (air that poets breathe)
Needn’t acquiesce to Adam’s fall.
A poem with its structure, verse and rhyme,
Artistic language and clandestine sense
Is no old-fashioned claustrophobic crime.
Formal verse is part of the advance
Of a culture that will grow and thrive.
Shabbiness in writing has no hope;
Ticky tacky verse will not survive
But will go to pot with every dope.
Just as the mother wren, though poor, will fight,
The poet with his pen, to the last breath, will write.
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Gigi Ryan is a wife, mother, grandmother, and home educator. She lives in rural Tennessee.
Gigi! You are so correct and hit the nail on the head! Poets can continue a fight when others cannot do so. The samizdat (underground) poets of the Old Soviet Union can attest to this fact. From Encyclopedia Britannica, “Samizdat, (from Russian sam, “self,” and izdatelstvo, “publishing”), literature secretly was written, copied, and circulated in the former Soviet Union…”
Roy,
I did not know about the samizdat. That is fascinating, and encouraging.
Thank you.
We will press on with “fightin’ words!”
Gigi
This is a very encouraging poem; thank you!
Paul, you’re welcome. Thank you for commenting!
Gigi
Sometimes great poets don’t even know that they’re word-warriors, because they’re simply—as well as not-so-simply—just writing great poems, that’ll serve as ammunition &/or armor in a future war. This nicely wrought sonnet brought back to my mind my reading of an article in The Free Press written by Douglas Murray: “How Boris Pasternak Defied Soviet Tyranny with a Shakespeare Sonnet” (Feb. 19, 2023). Thank you, Gigi Ryan, for writing this sonnet; & thank you, Society of Classical Poets, for publishing it.
Dear B. L.,
Yes, I agree. I don’t generally write a poem with warfare in mind. I am reminded of something C. S. Lewis once said.
“If we are all going to be destroyed by an atomic bomb, let that bomb when it comes find us doing sensible and human things—praying, working, teaching, reading, listening to music, bathing the children, playing tennis, chatting to our friends over a pint and a game of darts—not huddled together like frightened sheep and thinking about bombs. They may break our bodies (a microbe can do that) but they need not dominate our minds.”
Writing poetry would certainly fit into his list.
Gigi
A battle cry for all poets, carrying the formal flag. A great and inspiring poem, Gigi.
Dear Drilon,
Thank you for your comment. I love the comparison with carrying a flag. I may not be one to war with anything requiring bodily strength, but I cannot help but write.
Gigi
I must agree with you, Gigi, on all counts. Things must be going pretty well in Tennessee. Is it really “the greenest state in the land of the free?” Write on!
Dear C. B.,
Thank you for your encouragement. Regarding Tennessee – I cannot complain.
Gigi
Dear Gigi, this succinct sonnet is an encouragement for us. In just a few lines, you’ve shown why formal verse is the mightier of the two and that its garden will spread again by all means. Poets are immortal, as they say, and battling till the end is what they do. Thank you so much for this precious piece. God bless!
Dear Shamik,
Your words give me a mental image of a beautiful walled garden where vines of flowers are growing along the wall and beyond. The wall gives the structure but does not limit the beauty.
Regarding the immortality of poets, I do consider that when I am gone, that perhaps some things I write will be preserved for my children and grandchildren to keep more of me than my DNA alive.
Gigi
Such a great concept and poem, Gigi. Thank you! I will have to save and share it.
Dear jd,
Thank you for your encouraging comment. I would be honored to have it shared.
Gigi
I love the praise of formal verse and the poet as soldier. However, I don’t understand line 2. Asceticism and poetry are not mutually exclusive; there have been monks and nuns who were poets, and formal poets at that (example: St. Thérèse of Lisieux). Other than that, it’s great!
Dear Joshua,
That is certainly a valid question.
The rhyme, meter, and structure of formal verse brings beauty to the words and concepts in a well wrought poem. Nonconformity to the rules of formal verse removes the beautiful rhythm and rhymes and can cause a barrenness. Asceticism calls for a freedom from adornment, a plainness. The rhyme and rhythm are far from plain. They adorn words in ways that delight.
On the other hand, some might say that formal verse is actually what is ascetic because of its strictness. For example, I don’t allow myself to write 16 line, rhyme free sonnets. I adhere to the rules.
Similarly, nuns and monks in monasteries practice asceticism (severe self-discipline) by giving up possessions and freedoms, etc. At the same time in monasteries there are liturgies in life, service, and worship which are quite beautiful.
In the case of formal poetry and monastic life there is a beauty in structure.
Perhaps there is some paradox here. I seem to be able to argue for asceticism on either side, depending on what is being denied and which nuance of the word asceticism I am attempting to use.
Thank you for the thoughtful question.
Gigi
Thank you for explaining, Gigi. I would argue that formal poetry fits in with asceticism, since both are more strict and disciplined and produce greater beauty as a result, and both, for this reason, are generally hated by the same people.
Gigi, you have some good lines and images here, but I hope you will not mind my saying that I find the poem as a whole inconsistent. This sounds harsh, but don’t take it as unfriendly. I have much appreciated your positive comments to me and the following analysis is meant to be helpful if you can take it that way.
You’re trying to demonstrate how poetry is warfare, but most lines say nothing about fighting. Lines 3-4 say poetry is not sin, and lines 5-7 say it isn’t crime. Lines 10-12 say shabbiness and “ticky tacky verse” are hopeless. Where’s the war?
Now for the lines that could be interpreted as about warfare. In lines 8-9, you say formal verse is part of a cultural advance. “Advance” can be a battle term, but it need not be, and it is the single war word in lines 3-12. You use the turn of the sonnet to hint that you speak of the very broad concept of “culture wars.” In lines 1-2, though, the enemy was asceticism. In line 13 the mother wren probably fights for her chicks, but why suggest that poverty impedes protection of the young for animals? All wrens are poor in the same sense–and it is a sense incomparable with the poet in line 14, who is apparently fighting the last agony of a mortal illness to write one more poem.
That last line is the only battle action of a poet that you mention, but it clashes with many ideas of what a deathbed scene should or could be, and thus doesn’t seem noble or heroic. The number of poems, or writing as a constant activity to the exclusion of all else, does not make a good formal poet.
Of course you did imply in the first lines that every poem is a “battle plea” against something. If you meant barrenness to be the enemy, fine–I’m all for productivity when possible. But if asceticism is the enemy, that’s both ridiculous and inconsistent. Asceticism is warfare in favor of the spirit, and it’s been one of the most productive activities known to culture. That includes military culture. Training exercises, field rations, and long marches are only the beginnings that lead to victory in warfare of any kind. A regular return to ascetism clears the mind and body for work by the spirit, which is why most religions or philosophies encourage periodic self-denial or retreats or revivals. Asceticism is warfare’s friend. I think you chose the wrong word for what you may have meant.
Dear Margaret,
Thank you for taking time to analyze my poem and give me feedback to help me improve my writing. I will continue to analyze your words in hopes of increasing my clarity and cohesiveness.
It also seems I am prone to liberality when I use words like, “battle,” and “asceticism,” and no doubt many others.
My words about the wren were an (apparently too veiled) attempted tip of the hat to Shakespeare. (Macbeth Act 4, scene 2 – “For the poor wren, the most diminutive of birds, will fight, her young ones in the nest, against the owl.”)
I also happen to love wrens. They are tiny and work hard and press on in their work in as sweet and innocent way. Poets can fight in that way, I think. Every beautiful poem is a fight against the insanity of our culture.
Thank you again for taking time to comment.
Gigi
Thanks for your kindness in receiving the comment, Gigi. And for identifying the wren from Macbeth, which is my favorite Shakespeare play. I might have caught the allusion had you said, “poor wren.” I have this trouble with my own allusions, and I usually have to explain them even if a reader notices the words. The more obvious, the better!
I too like wrens. My children and I once tried to rescue one that had fallen out of a tree near a parking lot. Handling it very carefully, we brought the little creature home and called the Audubon Society for advice. First day, it seemed to be making progress, but then it succumbed to whatever injury it had suffered. Along the way, my son named the bird “Second Chance,” and although its second chance at life didn’t last long, Second Chance lives in our memories through a little story I wrote.