Poetry is an important, kaleidoscopic genre of literature and worship, but some still find it to be an impenetrable artform. Many Christian students desire to faithfully engage with creative outlets, but get stuck when it comes to understanding meter or metaphor. How might these intricate texts become digestible? There are a few central ways to consider poetry we shall explore below in order to feel more confident approaching it: neighborly welcome, unhurried altruism, and sincere attention.
Neighborly Welcome
Hospitality may seem an impossible thing to offer to someone who is as far away from you as most authors are. The poets you read might be on different continents, speaking languages with which you are unfamiliar, or may have even been dead for some time. But offering openness is not an endeavor for personal gain, so the direct effect on the author is not of primary importance. Rather, we do so as readers in order to hear what stories others are carrying, to listen to God’s hands and feet (1 Corinthians 12).
Similarly, hospitality is not offered only to the author. Though hopefully you would act in love should the author pop in to find you reading their work, either at your desk or under the covers, we do not grant hospitality merely to the poet. We allow each poem to exist as individual representations of moments or emotions. We are willing to hear them out, too, not just their writers. For example, to read T. S. Eliot’s “J. Alfred Prufrock” while only wondering what can be gained from the experience will automatically lessen the poem’s impact. If I am the goal of my interactions, much value from them is forfeited. I would not be acting very Christ-like nor be especially open to sacrificing for others. Instead of this mindset, I should instead prioritize understanding and seek learning—both in my everyday interactions and my reading of poetry.
Unhurried Altruism
Sometimes, after having read a particularly exciting title, we begin joyously to read, but are quickly disenchanted by the first line or two, and start to shed the grace just discussed. But I would challenge us to hold off on judgement. As Christian readers, we are obligated to show some amount of brotherly love to others, whether penned or penner, and, by engaging text we may not initially fall in love with, we embody the belief not only that everyone has a story worth telling, but that that story is worth listening to.
Let’s say you encounter a poem: perhaps the poet has a thought process utterly dissimilar to your own; perhaps they use words you dislike, such as “moist” or “globule;” or, heaven help us, perhaps it’s in free verse. Let’s say you are reading a piece that fits all those criteria—well, I congratulate you. You have just engaged generously with poetry. By hearing someone out, pushing past your comfort zones, and making room for those who experience life differently than yourself, you have taken the first steps toward neighborly warmth.
Sincere Attention
Creation is something people typically try to monetize, but the constant drive for all of our endeavors to produce marketable goods cannot stand in poetry’s case. Its worth is not held in digestibility or intake speed. Poetry must be mulled over, re-read, held up to the light, and deciphered. As an audience member, your job is to hold out your hands expectantly, waiting for them to be filled. You do not get to dictate what is given to you. In the same way, when reading poetry, the receiver’s job is to look carefully for beauty, rather than give it a cursory glance or check for market value. This can be tedious and certainly elongates the reading process, but the gain is golden.
Christ demonstrated that listening is something to be done with patience and energy. How wondrous that you are able to emulate him simply by paying attention! By reading poetry without such incessant thoughts as, “Am I perceptive? Will people think I’m cool for reading this? I hope others see how mysterious I am,” you begin to do what he modeled. By intentionally shifting your focus to honor someone else, your brain begins to fill in any gaps with questions about the text’s intentions, rather than with yourself. This requires accepting your limitations, maybe even admitting that you haven’t caught the author’s meaning quite yet, in order to delve into the search for significance by noticing. You must lean into your deficits in order to receive what is being given to you.
The Process
Lastly, you must approach poetry similarly to how you would a painting: examining it from a few feet away and then snuggling up close, breath on the frame. The process is this: first you open yourself to hearing what the author has to say; next, you get out of your own way; then, finally, you can examine the text itself. As an example, let’s look at “The Red Wheelbarrow” by William Carlos Williams. It is short (only four stanzas and sixteen words):
so much depends
upon
a red wheel
barrow
glazed with rain
water
beside the white
chickens
What is this poem about? It may sound like a silly question, but let’s answer anyway.
“The poem is about someone who thinks a red wheelbarrow and some chickens matter.”
And what stands out about the poem?
“Well, certainly the way it looks. It’s quite short, and there are only four words per stanza, and the pattern is three words in the first line and then only one in the next.”
Then, you must interrogate why the author may have made these choices. What could the length, numbers, and subject matter represent? It’s like a puzzle, a mini mystery to solve. (I’ll spare you the dialogue format as we continue, but hopefully you get the idea that asking oneself questions, though it may at first feel silly, can be a genuinely helpful way to discover meaning.)
After making your observations, you may begin to realize that the number of stanzas could represent four wheels on the wheelbarrow, or the four seasons one could use it in; the length could emulate the fleetingness of summer, or the little amount of time one would want to spend pushing a wheelbarrow; “glazed” might make one think of a eating donut, or of coating pottery; the colors are red, blue, and white, which may evoke to an American audience memories from the Fourth of July, a hot and sticky holiday. This is the point in our study where we are nose-to-the-glass, examining brush strokes and rips in the canvas.
Next we step one foot back. We introspect. Do we enjoy the imagery of a wheelbarrow in rain? Does the inclusion of spatial directions make us feel anything? Do we agree that anything depends upon the subject matter? Are there any words that stand out, either that we like or hate? Do we have any memories that come up when reading Williams’ piece? What aspect of the poem sparked us to think of them?
Concluding Thoughts
It is highly likely that, throughout your career as a student, you will have to engage with written words; they may not often be in poetic form, but, when they are, you now have a few more tools in your belt to experience them openly. The good news is that these precepts apply to any form of literature, as well! Christ’s call to love your neighbors can be obeyed in your interaction with any form of text, art, equation, or performance.
There is no area where offering grace will not bless both yourself and the receiver. And, I contest that every piece of writing, especially poetry, will be felt more deeply, understood more fully, and interpreted more effectively by applying these methods of engagement.