I Don't Understand Poetry

I don’t understand poetry. I don’t understand what its draw is, or why people write it, or what its structure is, or what its meanings are. I don’t understand why it’s so impacting and emotional, and because of that, I guess I do know what its draw is.

Once, in San Francisco, I saw James Earl Jones recite Walt Whitman’s “O Captain! My Captain!” His deep, distinctive voice and acting history alone are enough to make the poem an experience, but he was also backed by the entire San Francisco Philharmonic. The philharmonic paired perfectly with Jones’ intonations and timing, and at the end of the relatively short poem, I almost cried. Jones receive a standing ovation.

Growing up, poetry was, to me, something from the past. Shakespearean-era people read poetry. I didn’t wear tights and a neck ruffle, so it wasn’t for me. We touched on the medium briefly in high school, but it wasn’t until that reading in San Francisco that I understood its power.

I don’t have a natural talent for reading, writing, or understanding poetry, but every now and then I’ll come across a piece that really moves me. I was excited to receive a packet of poems in class a few days ago.

Professor Fordham mentioned hearing Tracy Smith reading her poem on NPR, so I visited the NPR website and listened to the news clip listing the Pulitzer Prize winners. The last segment was Tracy’s reading, and it was good to hear the author read her work. I read it out loud to myself first, so that I could see (or hear) two variations of the reading. Surprisingly, Tracy’s reading was very anticlimactic for me. Her reading was straightforward. Perhaps she wrote it to be read like that. Perhaps she read it simply in order to highlight the power of the words themselves. Whatever the case, it was far from the experience I had with Jones and the philharmonic.

To be honest, I didn’t see how Tracy Smith’s poetry is Pulitzer-worthy. At least, I couldn’t see it with “New Road Station.” I’ll admit, though, that I’ve only read one of her poems, and that the art is new and still foreign to me.

My favorite poem turned out to be Pablo Neruda’s “Bird.” Even though it was translated, I felt like the rhythm of the piece was more like one you’d find in a spoken word poem. It was easy to read, and there was a simple, catchy beat to it. By far, it is best read out loud.

Perhaps getting into poetry is like treading through food that people say is “an acquired taste”--it just takes time an effort. While I’m still not really into poetry, I’m willing for, and even desire, more exposure.

-Alexander Hirata