Those of us who
practice the craft of cowboy poetry make a lot of chin music about what,
exactly, it is. The Bar-D Ranch web site fosters the conversation
by inviting commentary in the “What is Cowboy
Poetry?” section.
It’s
an interesting question, with no shortage of answers. Most of the
discussion seems to revolve around the authenticity—or lack
thereof—of a poet’s cowboy credentials or depth of understanding of
cowboy ways.
But,
if you ask me (which no one did), there’s a more important question.
Before we ask of a poem, “is it cowboy?” we ought to ask,
“is it poetry?”
I
have long been of a mind that much of what parades around dressed up as
cowboy poetry isn’t poetry at all.
But
what qualifies one string of sounds as poetry, yet prevents another,
seemingly similar, set of words from claiming the name? It’s a
question I’ve considered from time to time. And while I can stumble
and stammer at some length on my opinions on the matter, my opinions
don’t much matter.
Then
again, maybe they do.
And
so do yours, and everyone else’s, if we all bother to become informed
on the subject.
That’s
because poetry, being an art, is infused with a lot of subjectivity.
Aside from things like metrical forms, there are few hard-and-fast rules
in poetry, merely an ethereal set of principles. So, lacking many
objective measures, subjectivity—informed opinion—is what we’re
left to rely on.
The
question of what poetry “is” came to mind again recently when I
happened upon a dusty old pamphlet on my bookshelf. A Poetry Primer,
by Gerald Sanders, Professor of English at Michigan State Normal College
in Ypsilanti, was first published in 1935. My tattered paperbound copy
of the 92-page booklet comes from the 1938 Fourth Printing.
1944 edition
As
you might expect of a college poetry text, even an introductory one, the
examples the author uses include the usual suspects: Shakespeare,
Shelley, Yeats, Wordsworth, Milton, Tennyson, Whittier, and the like.
But before you get the idea that this little book is too highfalutin to
be relevant to any discussion of cowboy poetry, know that on page 35,
Badger Clark’s “Glory Trail” is given as an example of the literary
ballad.
For
starters, Professor Sanders lists qualities common among poets.
There’s a sensitive mind, “alive to nuances that escape the
average person”; a good memory, allowing the poet to recall
experiences and reproduce emotions; wide and varied life experiences;
and the imagination to create new ideas by integrating experience
and information.
Then,
of course, there is the talent to express ideas and
emotions—one of the “rarest attributes.” Add to all that “a fine
sense for melody and form,” and a “delight in grouping words” so
that “form and idea become inseparable” and you have a poet.
Simple
enough. Describes all of us, don’t you think?
But,
while all that speaks to our subject in some sense, we’re here to talk
about what makes a poem rather than what makes a poet. The Professor
first differentiates poetry from prose, which needn’t occupy our time.
He then draws distinctions “between poetry and mere verse,” or
“real poetry and mere writing in rhyme.”
Poetry,
he says, displays several “marks.” Abbreviated descriptions follow.
For reasons of readability, we’ll dispense with quotation marks. But
know that the ideas and words that follow are the Professor’s and not
mine, and are quoted verbatim or closely paraphrased. These “marks”
of poetry are:
- An
imaginative element; interpreting old matter in new ways, giving us
new delight in familiar things.
- Combining
unlike images and feelings to form new ones.
- Transcending
the apparent, or obvious, to approach a new truth or ideal.
- An
emotional element, a depth of feeling that’s richer than actual
life.
- Emphasis
on beauty—to resolve the uncouth, the unfinished, the unseemly,
the inartistic, into harmony.
- Universality—though
based specifics, there’s an underlying appeal to the common
interests of all.
- Sincerity
and honest conviction, demonstrated through freshness, vitality, and
depth.
- The
restraint to avoid false emotion and overly ornate language, and
instead rely on the power of understatement and subtlety to induce a
sense of power.
All helpful,
I think, if you think about it.
The booklet
continues with a description of the characteristics of “The Language
of Poetry.” In brief:
- Concreteness,
or writing that appeals to our senses and evokes vivid images. (We
often hear this nowadays as advice to show not tell.)
- Use
of Figurative Language as a shortcut to ideas and images: metaphor
and simile, synecdoche and metonymy, personification and apostrophe.
- Allusions
to literature and history.
- Tone
Quality—grouping words to produce pleasing sounds; using
alliteration, assonance, consonance, onomatopoeia and such.
- Effective
use of rhyme (in formal poetry) as a melodic element, for emphasis
of ideas, and as an organizing element.
Well,
the Professor provides plenty to ponder as we practice poesy. We’ll
all benefit when we write if we compare what we’ve just written to the
above lists to see how well we’re doing when it comes to reaching
beyond “mere verse” to attain the heights where “real poetry”
resides.
“You
call THAT a poem?” is an impertinent question—one I would never ask
another writer. But it is one I ought to ask myself, and answer
honestly, every time I put pen to paper.
And
so should you.
© 2006, Rod Miller, All rights reserved
This article may not be reprinted or reposted
without the author's written permission.
