On “Poetry” and Poetry

Chloe Cook

Marianne Moore’s tendency for neurotic revision is evidenced by the leap between the 1924 and 1925 versions of her poem, “Poetry.” Though the piece was first published 100 years ago, its rhetorical cruxes have stood the frightening, scrutinous test of time. “Poetry 1924” stands on two assertions: first, poetry is a “place for the genuine,” and second, successful poetry strikes a balance between intellect and imagination. Like many other poems in Observations, “Poetry 1924” utilizes syllabics and serpentine line lengths. The poem establishes a conversational tone from line one when Moore responds to the title:  

I too, dislike it: there are things that are important beyond all this fiddle. 

As a reader, I immediately question: if there are more important things, why write this poem?  She answers in the following line:  

Reading it, however, with a perfect contempt for it, one discovers that there is in it after all, a place for the genuine. 

So, poetry can offer snippets of authentic life. Okay, I’ll bite. But what does she consider genuine? She often deviates from a Romanticist’s reflex to indulge in emotional effusions; rather, she leans into objectivity and personality. In Modernist fashion, she favors particular descriptions and granularity (and while Moore rejects expressing emotion directly, she occasionally represents emotion in her images). It is poetry with these traits, she says, that can elicit intimate and physical (rather than vague and sentimental) responses from readers, such as:  

Hands that can grasp, eyes  

that can dilate, hair that can rise  

if it must . . .  

However, she warns poets to be careful with images: 

when they become so derivative as to become unintelligible,  

the same thing may be said for all of us  

that we do not admire what 

we cannot understand. 

When particularly evocative or imagistic poetry loses grasp of objectivity—by overindulging in its author’s feelings or flaunting technical skill for the sake of technicality—it becomes too intangible for readers. Also flawed is poetry that appears complicated, but upon further inspection, exhibits no depth. Essentially, poetry full of parlor tricks is merely a pretentious illusion of poetry; real poetry should help readers see, or reach toward, truth. This doesn’t necessitate the abandonment of certain topics, though: 

. . . nor is it valid  

to discriminate against ‘business documents and  

schoolbooks’; All these phenomena are important. 

The success of a poem is not solely determined by content—execution is critical. For example, a poem about womanhood (a subject thoroughly explored by poets of varying stylistic tastes) has the ability to surpass superficial revelations and cursory metaphor (like in Moore’s “Roses Only”). Either emotion or logic can be utilized successfully in a poem if done so objectively. But Moore is careful to clarify:  

One must make a distinction however: when dragged into prominence by half-poets, the result is not poetry. 

What is a “half poet”? I’m inclined to define a “half poet” as one who only uses half of his or her brain—either the right (the “imaginative” hemisphere) or the left (the “intellectual” hemisphere).  The phrase could also refer to poets who rely on imitation rather than ingenuity (poetry that only aims to mimic other poetry is not whole itself). Moore believes, in a paraphrase of William Butler Yeats, that a poet ought to be “a literalist of the imagination”—i.e., a poet (and, by extension, his or her work) must maintain a balance of intellect and imagination. She reiterates this dictum when she delivers one of her most famous lines:  

Nor till the poets among us . . . can present 

for inspection, imaginary gardens with real toads in them, shall we have 

it. 

“It,” in this case, is successful poetry. Moore claims effective poets must be above “insolence and triviality.” Moore believes poets should take their work seriously, as poetry is an artform that keeps a record of history. Flashy poetic trends should be approached with skepticism and work of merit should move beyond human frivolity (I think this notion is especially relevant in the contemporary sphere).  

In the poetic world of 2024, there seems to be a movement for “relatability,” for a hyperfocus on the self. The general public is beginning to believe poems are “good” if they offer a surface-level consideration of universally-understood feelings. I suspect, if she were here today, Moore would argue that there is such a thing as “bad” poetry (whether we call it “bad” or “ineffective” or  

“unsuccessful”) and poetry shouldn’t be “dumbed down” for the sake of being relatable. When the judgement of a poem’s quality is based upon its relatability—or even its ability to be plainly understood—the role of intellect is rendered obsolete. I question if the literary community has teetered so far into “objectivity” that we’ve landed on poetry made up of statements (like a fortune cookie’s “advice,” which is not actually advice at all). Take Amanda Gorman’s famous inaugural poem, for example, where she states, “Somehow we do it” and “We are striving to forge a union with purpose.” I might expect to hear this at a strike rally, not in a poem.

If a poet primarily writes with the goal for anyone to pick up their poem and “get it” on the first read, what is being lost? At the bare minimum: muscular creativity and wit. On a broader scale: the skill to create and dissect intricate, lyrical flesh.  

Alas, in the final lines of the poem, Moore concludes:  

In the meantime, if you demand on one hand,  

the raw material of poetry in  

all its rawness, and  

that which is on the other hand  

genuine, then you are interested in poetry. 

If language is the “raw material” of poetry, and if poetry is meant to help readers find truths, then language is a vehicle for authenticity. Words create the literary devices in a poet’s toolkit; simile, metaphor, metonym, and other elements allow poets to approximate reality while maintaining an air of entertainment. After all, a poem is not worth much if it is too plain faced to read.