Poetry is DEAD (and I Know Why)

Benny Wills

Read time: 6 minutes

Why don't we like poetry anymore?

For five years, poetry was my passion and my purpose. I performed at “truth,” “freedom,” and “liberty” themed conferences and events all around the world. 

It was one of the most awesome chapters of my life. 

Throughout that time I received a lot of compliments and praise. Which I am grateful for. It’s not easy to impress someone with a poem.

One of the most common bits of feedback I would get after a performance was:

“I don’t like poetry, but I like yours.” 

Thank you. And I agree.

But I'm a hypocrite because I also love poetry. It’s a beautiful and timeless art form. As long as there have been people, there have been poets. 

Poets are chroniclers of history. They capture the spirit, values and struggles of their time. They preserve language, traditions and collective memory.

Poetry offers philosophical insights into the nature of existence, the human condition and the mystery of life.

A good poem can penetrate into the deepest part of our souls, and provide clarity and solace in times of turmoil.

So what happened? 

It’s simple.

Poetry has been bastardized. The bar has been lowered. Poems today are no longer well-constructed. They aren’t melodic and metered. They are not works of art. They are rants. Rough drafts. Unedited mind vomit. With no other intention than to evoke sympathy from the audience.

Not ALL modern poetry is like this, of course. But a lot of it is.

Poetry has devolved. Go to any open mic, or “slam,” and tell me that I’m wrong. I can almost guarantee someone will get on stage and say something like, "I wrote this on the way here." 

Ughhh.

I’ve been to several such events and it’s always cringe-inducing. I know I sound like a snob. But it’s because I love poetry. 

It’s whiny. It celebrates victimhood. It’s obviously, even objectively, bad poetry!

But the audience applauds anyway. 

If someone were to sit down at a piano, and then proceed to bang on the keys instead of playing a song, would you clap? Probably not. Unless maybe they were a toddler.

That’s what I equate (most) modern day poetry too. And that’s why you think you don’t like it. 

A poem is an idea simplified. Encapsulated. And writing one forces you to be as specific and clear as possible with what you want to say and convey. It’s no different than sculpting a statue or painting a picture. It is a transference of your inner world into something tangible in the outer. 

And it takes work. Works of art take work. And that is where modern day poetry has lost the plot.

Everyone’s a Poet

Everyone is born a poet - a person discovering the way words sound and work, caring and delighting in words. I just kept on doing what everyone starts out doing. The real question is: Why did other people stop?

- William Stafford

One of the exercises inside my communication program, Free Your Speech (formerly Parrhesia), is to write a poem. It comes at the end of a module called, The Masterpiece of Your Life. I go deep into the creative process and what it takes to produce a good and meaningful work of art.

I taught the class live for six seasons. And every time, without fail, the poetry my students created was excellent. It was the highlight of the class.

If you struggle to “find the words” when discussing controversial topics, if you misrepresent your ideas and opinions in conversations—write a poem. 

To begin:

• Choose a topic and free write. Pen to page without stopping. Write down all of your thoughts and feelings about the topic.  
• Don’t critique or second-guess yourself until you’ve gotten it all out.
• Pause.
• Look at what you’ve written. See it as a ball of unformed clay.
• Start sculpting. Refining. Editing. 
• Play with it until you love it. Until you can’t wait to share it. 

That's a very stripped down version of my technique, but you get the essence, nonetheless.

Not only will you have a poem. You’ll have newfound confidence in your ability to discuss the topic you wrote about. Because you put words to it. Specific, considered and carefully chosen words. Written with intention from the heart. Now you'll speak more clearly, more easily and more calmly than before.

Because you took the time to write about it. To make sense of your own mind. To understand your deepest convictions regarding something important to you. But you didn't stop there. You took the extra step. You filtered all of it through the sublime, under-utilized upper level of your expression. Creativity. 

It’s like magic.

Every human has four endowments - self-awareness, conscience, independent will and creative imagination. These give us the ultimate human freedom… The power to choose, to respond, to change.

- Stephen Covey

Poetry is Dead

A crowd favorite of mine is one I have never shared online.

It’s called, Poetry is Dead. And it goes like this:

It was a windy wet Wednesday when I realized

To my surprise that poetry had died

A big fat fork had been stuck in it

A big fat lady had sung

A big fat dork had dumped on it 

And buried it 

Under a big fat pile of big fat dung

 

I clung to the hope that maybe

Some person there among

Could revive, invoke, resuscitate 

My fallen poetic chum 

 

“Come on” I whispered

“Come on” I said

“At least lift him off the ground” 

“Him?” A voice came back at me 

“Careful with your pronouns”

 

At that exact moment I swear I heard

From somewhere far away

It was Edgar Allan Poe, I think 

Rolling in his grave 

 

Alas, my heart therein my chest 

pitter-pattered anxiously 

The coffee shop wherein the slam commenced

A social justice pageantry 

 

ME ME ME ME victim

ME ME ME ME dad

ME ME ME ME LBGT

ME ME ME ME sad

 

I have feelings, many feelings 

That I typed into my phone

All my feelings I’m revealing

So as not to feel alone

 

All alone…

 

One of my feelings is anger

Resentment is one too

Is blame a feeling?

‘Cause I’m feeling it 

And I’m blaming it on you!

 

Screw you ex-boyfriend 

I’m sort of sometimes gay now

I’m queer as folk

That ain’t no joke

Please refer to me as “they” now 

 

When I was 9 something bad happened

Something, yadda yadda, really bad happened 

Something wounded me affecting me

A lot in fact, infinity!

Something that was said or something that was done,

Was something really really bad 

That was the thing that’s bad that happened to me

 

To ME!

 

To me, or not to me? 

Wrong answer

Mom

www dot me me me

Dot com

 

Forward slash / not anymore

For, in spite of all I have evolved

Somehow

By allowing myself permission, without restriction or constriction

To be permanently offended 

And ignore what you intended

And righteously avow 

To completely disavow 

The seeming lack thereof

Your love

 

Hark, above, a dove

There, the sun is done 

It sets

Darkening my heart 

 

And I want you and everyone here to know that I’m hurting

And I want you and everyone here to know that I’m wanting

You to want to feel sorry for me

Please feel sorry for me

I’m not here to beg but I am begging

Pretty please with sugar and a maraschino cherry on top

Feel sorry for me

How many more ways can I say it?

How many more ways can I convey it?

 

A lot 

Apparently 

 

But my time’s not up 

Not yet

Not on this stage 

Not in this coffee shop

Not in this life

Not in front of this mic

That’s open

For me me me

To relay to you you you my feelings that I’m dealing with 

For three long-winded never-ending minutes

Until my time is up

Men, your time is up

Gender is fluid

Stupid

 

Thank you

Poetry is dead

Like I said

Poetry is no more 

Poetry is done, diddly, doo dah, dead for a ducat, dead 

Lying lifeless on the floor 

 

But it doesn’t have to be 

 

Open mic nights

Could be great nights

If you invest a little more into your pieces

Writing from the heart

Is the perfect place to start

But with editing its potency increases

 

Take time when you’re creating

Take care with words you preach

Speak to not at your audience

And many you shall reach

 

Millions of poems have been written

Yet few do we remember

Read the classics and study them

And then

Proceed to write yours betterer  

You have a masterpiece inside of you. Many masterpieces. Create them already! Don't be so stubborn with your gifts.

You can’t use up creativity. The more you use, the more you have.

- Maya Angelou

Learn my framework. Click Here to Free Your Speech.

Until next time.

Much love,

Benny