Photograph by Mark Gilliland
April is National Poetry Month. When was the last time you sat down and read a poem? High school? College? Thought so. Though poets from Shakespeare to Dr. Seuss have extolled the lyrical talent inherent in us all, most of us have a schizoid relationship with poetry. We know it’s important; in times of unspeakable joy, unbridled unhappiness or inexplicable tragedy, we seek out language strong enough to bear the weight of our feelings. But in everyday life, well, who has time for it?
Truth be told, aside from the occasional New Yorker, I’ve not spent much time with poetry either. That changed a few weeks ago when I attended a reading event hosted by the St. Louis Poetry Center. Though the gathering was rather small, with poets of varying backgrounds and occupations reading aloud their own or others’ works, I found myself deeply moved. What most surprised me was the sheer power of a spoken poem to slow up the slipstream of minutiae that is daily living and allow us to really feel certain emotions—nostalgia, regret, wonder, pain, joy, delight—deeply and indelibly. I’ve since made time to read at least one poem every day. I need it.
We all do. Polls indicate that we want substance, and we know that generally we don’t get it, not only in politics but in the entertainment we’re fed. The sheer velocity of our digitalized culture has so accelerated that we’ve all but lost the capacity to sustain prolonged contemplation. We long for something that matters, but truth is difficult and slow—we want things easy and quick.
Poetry will not oblige us in that way, but its delights don’t have to be difficult. In fact, poetry has never been so accessible. National Poetry Month, launched 10 years ago by The Academy of American Poets and publicized since by a couple of media-savvy poet laureates, has given poetry new traction in public consciousness. So have rappers, whose infusion of rhythm and rhyme into popular culture has changed the way young people hear and use their own language; legions now flock to poetry slams like rock concerts. That poetry readings and festivals have proliferated around the country in the last decade testifies to the basic human truth that the experience of ideas and emotions summoned by great language is something we can all share.
St. Louis, of course, has produced some of the country’s greatest poets. T.S. Eliot, Marianne Moore, Sara Teasdale, Ntozake Shange, Maya Angelou, Quincy Troupe and Naomi Shihab Nye were born here, while transplants such as Charles Guenther, Mona Van Duyn, Howard Nemerov, Donald Finkel, Eric Pankey and Carl Phillips have done most of their creative work in our midst. Scores of local poets still do: David Clewell, Nan Sweet, Steve Schreiner, Robert Nazarene, Richard Newman and Kent Shaw, to name but a very few, have published widely to national and international critical acclaim.
Though it doesn’t get much local press coverage, poetry thrives in St. Louis. Area universities and colleges report healthy enrollments for poetry classes, independent poetry groups offer energy and support, reading series at such venues as Duff’s Pub, Genesis Coffeehouse, Subterranean Books and Left Bank Books draw as many as 100 patrons on any given night.
“There are probably more working poets per capita in St. Louis than in any other American city this size,” says Newman, editor of the prestigious poetry journal River Styx. “But I doubt most St. Louisans know who they are.”
This month, do yourself a favor: Read some poems. Pick up a copy of any one of the acclaimed poetry journals produced here, such as River Styx, Natural Bridge, Boulevard and Delmar Magazine. Better yet, listen to them. Because the real joy of poetry is in its human voice.
