so, via the Poetry Hut Blog, I came upon this list from the Inky, entitled “Favorite Poet or Poem“. Thing is, there is no real context for the list. There’s this editorial or commentary type of thing that links to it, but I can’t seem to find any explanation of how this list was compiled, by whom, from whom, nothing. I think I’m missing something, but I can’t seem to figure it out. The commentary/editorial (authored by???) reads:

Poetry is thought to be an elite art, and it has been called the one art most likely “to make people feel stupid.” And some Influences were indeed uncomfortable, alas: This was one of the most frequently avoided queries.

Yet the Influences showed they know their poetry…

Huh? Who are this mysterious “they” who named Maya Angelou and T.S. Eliot, Homer and Marie Howe, Kate Northrop and Aleksandr Pushkin? It’s a pretty big range. And I have to say Northrop’s appearance on the list (although the Inky spelled her name wrong) both surprises and delights me, because she’s a younger poet and one of the most accessible artists and individuals I’ve had the pleasure to meet.

But, again, this only enhances my curiousity about who actually made this list?? I mean, as wonderful as Kate’s work is… I doubt she’s yet made her way into high school English classrooms. In fact, I’d dare say you have to care about poetry & literature at least a little bit to be in the know about such a contemporary writer (her first book was published in 2002). So, then are these really the people being made to feel stupid?

At first I think, they couldn’t be… but then I realize, maybe so. Because as a person who considers myself pretty knowledgeable about the subject, there are some poets on this list that I’m not so familiar with and to save myself any embarrassment, I won’t name them. And that I think goes to the very heart of the quote: poetry does have this ability to make people — even those who are intimately involved with it — feel stupid. I have to battle it in myself when others start dropping poetic names or referring to literary schools of thought, as if having such knowledge makes them a better person and — perhaps more importantly (at least in their own estimation) — a better writer. Poetry is something that you can learn and something that you can practice. I believe that. And I do believe there is a value in going to school for poetry, just as with any art — to learn from accomplished practictioners, to focus and hone your craft, to learn the history and context on your own work. But I also believe that is a luxury that doesn’t necessarily have anything to do with actual talent. And I certainly don’t believe its something a person can’t do on her own, at her pace over the course of a lifetime.

I worry that keeping poetry cloaked in this elitist veil prevents many people from ever reading it or trying to make poems themselves. But then, as the list shows, people (which people exactly, I don’t know?) are reading poetry — and rather broadly. Perhaps the state of affairs isn’t quite as grim as I fear — or maybe it’s just worse on the inside.