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There Are Masters and Then There Are Masters
The moth’s desire for muzziness of moon
Looms large in some men’s minds. They seem to think
That muddled paradox, that Indian rune
Philosophy, is fine because its link,
Its line goes back in mistiness. That’s good
Enough for them. They think that mystery
Because it speaks from in the neighborhood
Of ancient fuzz defies the history
Of logic. Rationality ain’t best
And facts are stupid. Beatles smoke their pot
And think that they have finished up their quest
For ancient wisdom. Can you spot the blot?
_It’s not that magic mushrooms were not used.
__It’s more that logic’s masters were refused.
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It’s a Mad, Mad, Sad, Bad World
Some artists are so desperate for the new
That they create mere nonsense, not the art
We want. They wield farce art for just the few
In their artistic clique, so from the start
They cripple grammar (if these artists are
What we call poets) or the “grammar” of
Their paintings or their sculptures. What by far
They prize is being different from the love
That normal people wish in verse’s lines
Or lines of ink or charcoal or of paint.
These artists want designs that aren’t designs
But crud on canvass, words without restraint.
_“Freedom! Freedom! We must break the mould!”
__—This alone their rantings as they scold.
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Phillip Whidden is an American living in England who has been published in America, England, Scotland (and elsewhere) in book form, online, and in journals.
These poems gave me flashbacks to the Beatles song, “Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds” (LSD) and the movie, “It’s a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World.” Logic indeed was replaced by the blight of enlightenment as in the first poem, and the nihilism with hedonism replacing good sense in the name of freedom while dispensing with beautiful form and substance in the arts resonating in the second one.
Yes, Roy Eugene Peterson, we are in total agreement. Thank you for your comment. It’s good for me to know that I’m not alone in these convictions. I’m glad you are with me. That all of this can be expressed in sonnets is also a good thing.
I like both sonnets, but particularly the first, where the poet touches upon the rejection of rationality and logic — something so common today that one might call it the new normal. Some decades ago a writer (whose name I cannot recall now) said that what we were experiencing was “an elephantiasis of the moral sentiment.” That is to say, persons were now guided by what they deeply felt emotionally rather than by what they knew intellectually and logically.
The second sonnet touches on the corruption of artistic endeavor today, but in that case the motivations behind garbage art are purely venal — many painters and sculptors do what the big galleries, the rich collectors, the grant-money foundations, and the academic establishments tell them to do. This is the path to wealth, fame, and recognition. The same is true for establishment poets, but they are a nickel-and-dime racket compared to the plastic arts.
I’m glad a few of us see the problem.
Joseph S. Salemi, I agree with all of your points. It was generous of you to write at such length. Furthermore, you express your points powerfully. We need many more people as excellent in mind and expression as you are. Yes, I liked the elephantiasis remark. Thank you for resurrecting it. And, yes, the world has gone completely mad and bad since only garbage gets big bucks. You are great.
“It’s a Mad, Mad, …” is a great description of something we traditional poets can relate to. One thing that interests me about it is the many enjambments, all of which I like. But I don’t know how to explain (which likely means I don’t understand) what makes good or not-so-good enjambments; so I would enjoy any discussion about that subject. Thanks for the good poems, Phillip.
Enjambments work when they adhere to proper grammar and syntax, and when they don’t give the reader a too bumpy ride.
One hint: it’s probably not effective or graceful to enjamb a monosyllable to the next line, followed by a period. Here’s an example of lousy enjambment:
We followed all the footprints till we found
Bob. He was hiding in an empty barn.
Yes, there is something a bit (unintentionally) humorous about that one. Thank you, Joseph.
Cynthia Erlandson, yes, you and he are right. I can imagine that the humor proceeds from this particular single syllable because it is “Bob,” and maybe its silliness would still have been silly sounding even if it had been followed by a word (or whatever) that created the desired iamb, such as “lonely as he was”. Still, yes, a taint of silliness would have remained mostly because of the word “Bob” itself. Today I sent to the editors here sonnet rammed with enjambment almost throughout. I hope it isn’t considered silly by them.
Cynthia Erlandson, Thank you for tuning in. I have no writing theory about enjambment. Even if I had one, it would carry no more weight than anyone else’s. The good news is that I was having my long night’s rest when you posted your comment and others have had a chance to weigh in, probably wiser and more knowledgeable than I am, these minds. Thanks for noting you liked the two sonnets. I like hearing from you.
It’s ironic!
The Mad Mad Sad Bad World poem is an excellent condemnation of the all-too-long reign of Modernism: the tyrannical doctrine that if an artist does not break new frontiers he is no good, but if he does, he’s great, no matter how bad he is.
Myself, I always wished that composers would write new works of Bach or Beethoven, just as good as the originals.
And just an hour ago my wish was sort of granted: I was listening (for the umpty-umpth time) to Mendelssohn’s beautiful oratorio Paulus, and I realized that it might easily be regarded as “Mozart’s third German-language opera!” But it’s still damn good! —as good as the first two! —a real gift to humanity.
Dan Pugh, tyranny is the right word. Yes, that regime has been in place too long. I have news for the tyrants. I’m sure it will gobsmack them: a poet can break into new frontiers while writing a sonnet or a villanelle. End of argument. I have long said that the invention of the “endless melody” (Mendelssohn, Wagner, etc.) in the 19th century was the apogee of creation in serious music. It is such a perfect invention that probably music composition could only go downhill after it–if it were abandoned. It was. So. . . sadness all around in the 20th century. The serious composers who invented the “endless melody” prove absolutely that invention in serious art need not be destructive. That invention improved instead of destroyed. I have two former fellow students from when I was taking my masters degree who disapprove of my focus on sonnets in my writing career. Basically their position is that a sonnet is too brief to be hefty and worthy. My riposte is that clealy they have never read a towering sonnet. Besides hundreds of years ago the obvious way forward was created for sonneteers who might feel some weight in the unweighty argument of such minds which condemn brevity: sonneteers invented the sonnet sequence. WHAM! SHUT UP, IGNORAMI! (Yes, I have written sonnet sequences. A couple have been published by the Society of Classical Poets. One of them was about a composer. More of my sonnet sequences have been posted on my own website.) Tradional poets, arise and fight the long, good fight. If you want a laugh, try this on for size: last week a serious journal in California published one of my sonnets . . . but turned it into free verse in the way it was laid out on the screen/page. We need guerilla warfare, traditional poets. I suggest stink bombs being hurled into editorial offices…or worse, Rap being blasted from huge sound systems through their windows a la Wagner being blasted onto the Viet Cong in THAT movie.
Your evaluations and suggestions are greatly appreciated. Your information and guidance have been exceedingly beneficial to me, and I would like to express my sincere gratitude.
gacha life, thank you for letting me know that I have been helpful. I do really appreciate that.
I love the term ‘farce art’. Personally, I like some modern art and don’t like most modern art.
We artists all have a poetic licence that let’s us take liberties. For me, when these liberties are taken too far, or are just for the sake of being different, it’s not something I can buy in to. But if others do buy into it, that’s up to them, not for me to be judgmental.
My personal preference is for traditional, rhymed and metered poetry, but that does not stop me from occasionally writing a free verse piece, usually to explore a metaphor, or from enjoying the explorational aspect of a free verse piece.
I think the main problem with modern art is that bad modern art stands out and sometimes gets unwarranted publicity because of the controversy surrounding it.
Thanks for the reads, Phillip.
Paul A. Freeman, who could disagree with you? Even I have had free verse published over the decades, but mostly early on and very, very seldom. I probably won’t revert again. One of my former students said my best poem ever was my “Ode to an American Marine from Bountiful, Utah, Killed in the Gulf.” [Good luck trying to find it on the web.] It is arguably both traditional verse and free verse. I won’t bore you trying to spell out what I mean by that. You’d be better to examine for yourself. Thanks for responding to those two sonnets.
Phillip, these sonnets are crystal clear in contrast to the irrationality and desperate thirst for novelty criticized therein. Your points apply to poets now writing formal or classical verse as well as to modernists. In word painting or dramatic narrative, there lies that very danger of neglecting grammar, or structure in sentences, or logical argument in the work as a whole, thus producing emotional and even elegant language that lacks sense on close reading. Just as detrimental is writing to please “the few in their artistic clique” and deriding or neglecting both good contemporaries and historic masters. There is a place for whimsy and exuberant joy, although this kind of lyric, too, can be recognized as belonging to a tradition other than idiosyncratic narcissism. It takes work, just like the care you have put into these wonderful critical pieces with such suitable diction and imagery.
Margaret Coats, I just now saw your wonderful response. You need some sort of big medal or prize for writing at such generous length and with such care about the challenges of writing properly while simultaneously taking care of all the mechanics–and the Big Mind things, like sense, logic and large subject matter. I’m glad you also leave room for whimsy. An editor of a major little magazine in Britain refused all my sonnets (and other serious poetry) until one day I sent her rather rude limerick sequence based on ridiculously spelled place names in Scotland. She said it was delicious and she “had to have it.” As a sop she also finally accepted one of my sonnets and published it in the same number as the limericks. Thereafter she was a real fan of my sonnets. You will have worked out that I think the key element that makes a poem and POEM is the quality of the imagery. Thank you for singling out the images in the sonnets.
I admire your ability to convey such detailed information in an accessible way.
That’s praise indeed, Wordle Catala. Thank you. Often my poetry is ambiguous. As to whether you should have praised me for clarity, maybe you should have held fire until you see the two sonnets being published here today.