Help Me Understand, Vol. 1: Poetry

Teach an old philosopher new tricks

(Source: Piqsels)

Socrates allegedly once said that if he knew more than other people it was only because he was aware of his own ignorance. Well, I’m aware of my own ignorance, and I’d like to lessen it with your help. I’ll first explain my conundrum and at the end of the article make my specific request. I thank you for your time and attention.

I’m going to start a new series here on Medium: “Help Me Understand.” I am quite sincere. There are a number of things that I do not understand, and I would appreciate people explaining them to me. I have a list. It’s growing. But if I can start some conversations and receive the experience and wisdom of other people, I’d appreciate it.

First up — poetry. I don’t get it. I don’t understand the appeal.

Much of the blame for that goes to the crap U.S. schools that I was forced to attend. I hated it because nobody much cared about teaching anything. The “English” courses were taught by passionless teachers and thus were exercises in enforced boredom.

Aside from “The Rime of the Ancient Mariner,” which I kind of liked, I came away with the impressions that poetry was ponderous, prolix, pretentious, and pompous. I appreciate clever writing, including alliteration, but I don’t see it in the poetry people say is great.

I don’t know what it make of lines like this.

This is the forest primeval; but where are the hearts that beneath it
Leaped like the roe, when he hears in the woodland the voice of the huntsman
Where is the thatch-roofed village, the home of Acadian farmers, —
Men whose lives glided on like rivers that water the woodlands,
Darkened by shadows of earth, but reflecting an image of heaven?

“Evangeline: A Tale of Acadie” by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Or this.

Make what Himself would fain, in a manner, be —
Weaker in most points, stronger in a few,
Worthy, and yet mere playthings all the while,
Things He admires and mocks too, — that is it.

“Caliban upon Setebos; or, Natural Theology in the Island” by Robert Browning

That is what? Does poetry have to be super obscure?