I love writing poetry. I can occasionally enjoy reading it. But if there’s one thing that I hate, it’s an academic study of it with the wrong kind of professor. Luckily, I’m not saddled with an overzealousprofessor.
The main contention that I have with the study of poetry is that it is entirely subjective, even whimsical. The way I see it, it’s up to the author to express himself. Why is he or she so damned important that hundreds or thousands of students are trying to decipher just what this person wrote?
Honestly, I feel comfortable saying that if I were born a hundred years ago, when poetry and writers were still something of an undiscovered amazement, I could’ve been published and studied just as well. A lot of these so-called poets write pieces that are cryptic, without any sense of form or direction. They are but mere ramblings of an emotionally tumultuous person who happened to have a pen in hand a piece of paper nearby.
Poetry can be discussed. But to study it, to pore over the poet’s life story and entire body of work in order to decrypt the truth in their words? That’s a load of nonsense. So few are those who deserve the attentions of thousands of young people and their professors. Instead of discovering truth through their eyes, try making a truth of your own.