[Letter in reply to article: Telegraph.co.uk: "Carol Ann Duffy is the not-a-lot-of-laughs Poet Laureate"
By Judith Woods. Published 7 December 2009. Note: Several minor corrections of the original have been made to the following letter.
By Judith Woods. Published 7 December 2009. Note: Several minor corrections of the original have been made to the following letter.
The Poet Laureate is not-a-lot-of-laughs, eh?
It has been said over again in myriad ways that modern men and women must entertain and be entertained while not falling off the carpet they are riding on. When poets forget how far above the ground they are flying, they tend also to forget to hold onto the fringes of the carpet, and the ride may be a wild ride, indeed.
My copy of the Folio Anthology of Poetry (introduced by Carol Ann Duffy) recently arrived at my home in the U.S.A. In Duffy's introduction she writes "No matter how long ago it was written, good poetry is forever giving anew to the good reader and, indeed, forever receiving anew from the reader whose warm hand and breath and gaze is upon the page." This is as well said as anything I can think of pertaining to the art of poetry, but unfortunately, as poets, we often forget why we write, thus losing the reader's "warm hand and breath and gaze." Duffy, perhaps, sees reasons for "reproachful sentiments" and believes what to her is duty is also expedient, and for which there is a great deal more to be said. As the great Anglo-American poet Eliot (T.S.) asked, rightfully: "It is an advantage to mankind in general to live in a beautiful world...But for the poet is it so important? We mean all sorts of things, I know, by Beauty. But the essential advantage for a poet is not, to have a beautiful world with which to deal: it is to be able to see beneath both beauty and ugliness; to see the boredom, and the horror, and the glory."
When poets become too disenchanted with the world they reveal that their winged words are really made of lead. They shouldn't be flying on carpets for they become not only a danger to themselves but for everybody else as well. Poets should not be too engrossed in the affairs of the world for that is a charge that poets cannot afford, and once the scale is tipped against them there may be no turning back. The world we live on is no Paradise. The poet who forgets in their heart, in spite of all, that it is not a bad sort of place, and fails to accept its shortcomings, will not fit readily into the scheme of things and eventually will fail.
Our society, without thinking, tends to give poets too much incentive for greatness too soon by piling on awards, honorariums and riches for which they are not ready. Starting out well is not enough, as the poet ages he or she must be grateful for all that is granted to them. And, however others in the world may have started out, the world needs poets who can rise above the dourness of the modern world and get beyond waiting for Godot. The reader shall not be satisfied with anything less.
Modern poets need immediately to cease expending their energies on endless ingenuity which is forever being betrayed by cynicism. They need to focus their energies on why a planet that is not quite round and spins dizzily through space at breakneck speed is still a rather pleasant place to live. A poet who cannot accept the shortcomings and limitations of humanity cannot "see beneath both the beauty and the ugliness" and come to any meaningful conclusions. My Christmas wish for Carol Ann Duffy is that she may expel the weariness that the world carries in its heart, and take up her task with more dignity and hope on an uncompromising planet.
Dom Giovanni
Irish Italian poet
December 8, 2009
