On Poesi and Self-Expression

Not long ago on this blog I wrote about how I was working on committing the book of The Song of Solomon in the Old Testament to English poetry.  I finished it around May of this year, but decided not to publish it.  It was a difficult decision to make about not publishing but I have discovered found that getting published is quite difficult these days, more so than ever before.  When all is said and done it costs an author today more, financially speaking, to get published than he would making money from it because the cost of printing and distributing them is so expensive – and comes out of the author’s own pocket.  To make things more complicated, publishing companies are extremely picky now about whom they wish to publish; Christian publishers are more reluctant than mainstream ones to publish poetry.  If you do self-publish (which has been suggested to me many times) marketing and distributing your work is an uphill battle because you don’t have access to supply chains like the companies do.  By the time you get paid any royalties for your work (IF you get paid any at all), most (if not all) of it has been taken out by others before you receive a penny of it yourself.  In all of this I have found the creative writing process quite enjoyable and inspiring, but the commercial reality quite sobering and even depressing.

That reality though doesn’t impede me from writing.  In the last couple of months I have written almost 20 poems of almost 7,000 words, including a 2,400 word short story that was written in poetic meter about a dishwasher that wants to be the queen of a camp-site.  (That was written to complete an assignment for a course that I’ve been doing on short story writing.)  Of course, I haven’t written at those verses just to accomplish some random word quota, but I’ve had so many ideas for poems that I’ve wanted to put them to paper before I forget all about them.  Here is one that I wrote this month.  It was written in the form of a rondeau redoublé, where the four lines of Stanza 1 are also the final lines of Stanzas 2, 3, 4, and 5.  Additionally, the first four syllables of the first line (‘Like mountain goats’) make what the French call a rentrement, whereby the last words of the poem are the same as the poem’s first words:

Poem1

I have really been enjoying my newfound ‘romance’ with poetry, as it has become for me an poignant form of self-expression.  I am more than capable of writing prose (after all, I did successfully complete a Masters of Theology!) but that form is expression for the head, while poetry speaks what the heart yearns to say.  I began writing poetry again exactly 5 years ago and I feel as though I am now ‘coming into my own’, so to speak, in honing and refining how I express myself poetically.  That does not mean though that poetry does not obey particular conventions and ‘rules’ – indeed it does, almost as much as prose is required to do; poets need to pay careful attention to meter, syllables, simile, and metaphor.  This is even still a requirement for blank verse, which lacks rhyme.  When those conventions are heeded, you get brilliant poetry.  When you don’t it simply sounds like rambling that doesn’t even sound like prose!

In my own poetry I really enjoy the French forms with their repeated rhyming lines, such as the villanelle, rondeau, rondeau redoublé, triolet, roundelay, and the rondel.  I also love Nordic/Germanic forms like the dróttkvætt with its alliteration and rhyming vowel sounds, which have sadly gone out of fashion and which really stretch a poet’s powers of imagination and expression to their ultimate extremes.  However, they are things that give a real challenge and can ‘squeeze out’ of the juice press some amazing lines of verse.  Below is an example of a pantoum that I wrote recently, where the lines in a stanza are repeated in the next stanza.  The at the end, the first line of the poem is also its final line:

Poem1

Poem2

I hope and pray that one day I can get my poetry published, but for now I can just enjoy the writing of it.  And it’s so much more rewarding and enjoyable than it was doing paid ministry as a preacher and a pastor!

Poem for The Struggling

The following is a poem I wrote today (a villanelle). It has been written in the 1st person, as if Jesus was speaking. I wept as I wrote it because I am currently experiencing a lot of challenges. May it bless others too who are going through trials:

“Come in from the dripping cold,
My heart to fill your spirit dry.
Let me near to woo your soul.

My words speak peace and not to scold
When in your pain you scream out ‘Why?!’
Come in from the sinking cold

Where trials squeeze your faith to fold
And friends betray and breathe out lies.
Let me near to woo your soul

When Satan burns with lies he’s told
And all your strength is sapped and tried.
Come in from the screaming cold

When life just has you feeling old
And friends are all the tears you’ve cried.
Let me near to woo your soul

When fear pours down from crown to sole;
Know I am with you by your side.
Come in from the stinging cold;
Let me near to woo your soul”.

A Poem to Ponder: ‘The Agony’, by George Herbert

George Herbert was one of Britain’s most groundbreaking poets and orators, but he was much more besides.  In the 1600s he worked as an Anglican pastor in a small parish outside the township of Salisbury.  He died an early death at the age of 39 but once deceased, a friend published Herbert’s poetry in a collection known as The Temple.  This morning in my devotion time, I read one of Herbert’s poems which reflects on the atoning sacrifice of Jesus Christ for sin.  It is a short poem, but one that is packed with profound and soul-satisfying theology, as I aim my own poetry to be.  This is it:

‘The Agony’, by George Herbert

      Philosophers have measured the mountains,
Fathomed the depths of the seas, of states, and kings,
Walked with a staff to heaven, and traced fountains:
      But there are two vast, spacious things,
The which to measure it doth more behove:
Yet few there are that found them; Sin and Love.

      Who would know Sin, let him repair
Unto Mount Olivet; there shall he see
A man so wrung with pains, that all his hair,
      His skin, his garments bloody be.
Sin is that press and vice, which forceth pain
To hunt his cruel food through ev’ry vein.

      Who knows not Love, let him assay,
And taste that juice, which on the cross a pike
Did set again abroach; then let him say
      If ever he did taste the like.
Love in that liquor sweet and most divine,
Which my God feels as blood; but I, as wine.

What is all this about, you may wonder, and why did it move me so much?  How could it move you?  Well, this is what Herbert is saying through his stanzas.
In the first stanza, Herbert is describing the ways that human philosophers think upon the meaning of life by looking at creation (‘measured the mountains/ fathomed the depths of the seas … walked with a staff to heaven, and traced fountains’) and human power (‘of states, and kings’).  It is another way of saying that they have their heads in the clouds and miss the real deal.  But this is a foil by why Herbert challenges his readers to consider something much more profound and important for the soul of man: 1) human sin and 2) God’s love for sinners through Jesus Christ’s sacrifice for sin.
In stanza 2, Herbert hones in on the first theme (‘who would know Sin’) in order to remind/enlighten the reader that if you want to see how horrible sin is, to remember how God’s wrath against it crushed His Son both internally and externally.  Herbert describes this in very forceful imagery (‘a man so wrung with pains, that all his hair, his skin, his garments bloody be’).  Sin is also described at the end of the middle stanza as invading every pore, nook, and cranny of a person, but will eventually cause pain and destruction (‘sin is that press and vice, which forceth pain/ to hunt his cruel food through ev’ry vein’).  No wonder it weakened and wounded Christ so much to bear our sin!
In stanza 3, Herbert brings the poem around to the theme of love but in ways that are both disturbing and life-giving.  With poetic imagery, he calls to mind the piercing of Jesus’ side as He hung upon the cross, which caused Him to pour out water and blood (‘which on the cross a pike/ did set again abroach’).  The reader is invited three times by Herbert to ‘taste’ that outpouring by participating in the ordinance of Communion (‘let him assay … and taste that juice … then let him say if ever he did taste the like’).  Incidentally, the meaning of the verb ‘assay’ means to determine the quality of something and the way that Herbert uses it here indicates that participating in Communion helps Christians to understand the fitness of Christ’s atoning work.
The last two lines of the poem are by far the most moving and the crowning glory of the entire poem.  Here, the shedding of Jesus’ blood on the cross is described not merely as the ending of His earthly life: rather, for the Christian it is ‘that liquor sweet and most divine‘ which brings him mercy, grace, restoration, healing, and life.  In these lines, blood is no longer merely blood (as it is to God); rather, it has turned to wine for the redeemed sinner, which gladdens and relaxes the soul as actual wine does to the body.
I am uncertain if this explanation brings the poem to life for you but it helped me to dwell on the richness of Christ’s love for me as I read it aloud this morning.  How lovely are the truths in those words: Love in that liquor sweet and most divine/ which my God feels as blood; but I, as wine!