First published November 24, 1996
I confess to crying at sentimental movies.
I confess to being a lover of poetry.
I'm discovering more colleagues -- male and
female -- who are lovers of poetry.
A few years ago, I shared with a colleague
an anecdote concerning Robert Frost:
Frost and friends, after sharing a tasty dinner, retreated to
the veranda to enjoy a view of the sunset.
``Oh, Mr. Frost,'' a young guest exclaimed,
``isn't that a beautiful sunset.''
To which Frost replied, ``I never discuss business
after dinner.''
On hearing this
wry story, my friend and colleague confessed, ``When I was younger,
I read everything he wrote.
``There were three poets that had a tremendous
influence on my thinking,'' he continued, ``Frost, e.e. cummings
and Carl Sandburg.''
I was impressed -- and cheered. Many journalists
seeking truth turn to poetry.
Despite Frost's implication that poetry was
his business, in the modern world of publishing, poetry gets short
shrift.
Several book publishers won't touch a book
of poetry unless its author already has celebrity status, and
newspapers rarely publish high-caliber poetry unless the poet
makes news by winning a prize.
Even Frost had to go to England before his poems became popular.
Some popular magazines that publish poetry
treat it almost as throw-away material, sticking it in leftover
space without mention in a table of contents.
I've taken up a one-man campaign against magazine
editors treating poetry this way. Editors who stick a poem in
as an afterthought without giving the poet credit in a table of
contents can expect a nasty letter from me.
I urge others
to join me in this informal campaign to keep poetry from serving
as filler. (I'm uncertain how my campaign can affect newspapers;
a prophet, recall, is without honor in his own country.)
Even the proud and proven ``New Yorker,'' once
one of America's strongest advocates of contemporary creative
literature, sometimes slips and puts a poem on a page as if it
were one of those three-inch classified ads on the margin of the
back pages of the magazine.
In fact, I think I've detected serious slippage
concerning poetry since Tina Brown took over as editor and attempted
to redirect the magazine by making it more ``with it.''
Poetry apparently is not with it.
Major newspapers long ago gave up on poetry.
I haven't tracked its history, but I suspect the demise of poetry
in the daily newspaper results from dealing with the outpouring
of doggerel that follows an editor's attempt to lift readers'
awareness.
Or perhaps, as
poet Robert Bly charges, Americans haven't grown up and are still
singing nursery rhymes. (Several camouflaged as popular songs,
no doubt.)
There is one time, of course, when poets come
into the spotlight.
No, it is not when the Pulitzer Prize for poetry
is awarded; in fact, newspapers tend to give that prize short
shrift in comparison to the high profile play we give the other
awards.
Rather, poets are brought to America's attention
at presidential inaugurations.
Frost, his white hair and his manuscript whipped
by the breezes of January in the District of Columbia, recited
his powerful poem, ``The Gift Outright,'' at the inauguration
of John F. Kennedy (a poem Frost published originally in 1942).
Maya Angelou
made a similar impact in 1993 at the inauguration of Bill Clinton.
For the most part, however, poets in America
have become, in the words of Associated Press writer Calvin Woodward,
``those overlooked observers of the American condition.''
Woodward wrote a piece this summer about poets
and the political scene, noting that most politicians disdain
poetry because what modern poets have to write about America is
``not often pleasant.''
My only gripe with Woodward's piece is that
he uses interviews with poets about space for poetry in the nation,
but he reports only recorded statements of President Lyndon Johnson
(who didn't want poets at the White House) and of presidential
campaigner Bob Dole (who quotes Carl Sandburg on the stump but
hires no poets as campaign consultants, Woodward notes).
Former president Jimmy Carter, himself a poet,
might have made a good interview on this subject.
Woodward's article
informs about what today's poets think of politics; I'd like to
hear what today's politicians think of modern poetry.
Someone who attempted to put poetry in the
news, as it were, is PBS newsman Bill Moyers.
Moyers, together with editor James Haba, produced the ``The Language
of Life,'' for PBS then put it in book form with several other
pieces. The resulting volume contains 29 interviews with contemporary
poets and reflective contributions from five others.
Most gripping, however, is Moyers' introduction.
Remembering that Moyers is a former press secretary to the same
President Johnson who didn't want poets in the White House, his
words become gripping:
``Poetry is the most honest language I hear
today,'' Moyers writes, revealing words from a man whose life
has been entwined with the media and with politicians.
``Poetry is news,'' Moyers writes. ``News of
the mind, news of the heart -- and in the reading and hearing
of it, poet and audience are fused.''
With poetry,
Moyers concludes, comes not only communication, but communion.
Call me sentimental. Call me dreamy. Call me
idealistic. I'm convinced with Moyers that ``Democracy needs her
poets.''
Moyers says he has been ``struck by how much
we owe our poets for reminding us that experience is the most
credible authority of all.''
Next time you hear someone criticizing politicians
or the media, send that person to a poet.
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Allan R. Andrews can be contacted at arandrews@aol.com