I have just read Carol Ann Duffy's poem Democracy that was published in the Guardian on May 18. What do I think of it? I think it gives the impression of a poet hard at search for an idea.
Sometimes, as poets, when we are overworked, our words have a tendency to meander down through our fingers and the pencil fails to capture even a straggling thought. It's a heavy burden on writers to discover that nothing of triumph is coming forth.
I believe Ms. Duffy was quoted as saying that she was "not interested, as a poet, in words like 'plash'-Seamus Heaney words, interesting words. I like to use simple words, but in a complicated way." Well, there is no sand in this oyster and you can bet there will be no pearl either. Democracy simply lacks passion.
My artistic sensibilities tell me to look at this poem objectively, to get out of it and see what I can find, but in Democracy there is no "out" there. A few people of extreme smartness, profound intellectuals,
Just as some people are never really charming til they die, a dead word is never charming at all, and nothing short of a miracle can make that Lazarus rise from the grave again. The most serious advice, Carlo, that I can give a poet is not to begin taking shortcuts with the imagination. We poets, too, can have bad days. I think we should allow Ms. Duffy that consolation. The question is, what's the Guardian's excuse?
