Is poetry art or therapy?
First I'd like to apologise to Madame Lavender for suggesting she was the mother of a poetry lover and I was the graduate... it's just that... when you say cluster-fuck I picture you standing there in the forum wearing a white lab coat... and nothing but... damn!
Secondly, I want to clarify why I don't think we should consider what we do as art. I think creativity and expression in the form of poetry should be fun and satisfying to the individual, and having a great forum such as DU allows us to share our poetry, and through sharing we are finding inspiration and developing our creative skills. I think as soon as we put our poetry on a pedestal and call it art, we are killing the joy and satisfaction we get from the creative process by taking ourselves too seriously.
Secondly, I want to clarify why I don't think we should consider what we do as art. I think creativity and expression in the form of poetry should be fun and satisfying to the individual, and having a great forum such as DU allows us to share our poetry, and through sharing we are finding inspiration and developing our creative skills. I think as soon as we put our poetry on a pedestal and call it art, we are killing the joy and satisfaction we get from the creative process by taking ourselves too seriously.
Anonymous
case28 said: I think as soon as we put our poetry on a pedestal and call it art, we are killing the joy and satisfaction we get from the creative process by taking ourselves too seriously.
In all fairness, sweet, the second we use any label, even the word 'poet' we are killing the joy and satisfaction we get from the creative writing process by taking ourselves too seriously. Urgh. It's all terminology.
In all fairness, sweet, the second we use any label, even the word 'poet' we are killing the joy and satisfaction we get from the creative writing process by taking ourselves too seriously. Urgh. It's all terminology.
Miss_Sub said:
In all fairness, sweet, the second we use any label, even the word 'poet' we are killing the joy and satisfaction we get from the creative writing process by taking ourselves too seriously. Urgh. It's all terminology.
Hey, lets back it up a little, cherry pie... I'm not accusing anyone of being a poet.
In all fairness, sweet, the second we use any label, even the word 'poet' we are killing the joy and satisfaction we get from the creative writing process by taking ourselves too seriously. Urgh. It's all terminology.
Hey, lets back it up a little, cherry pie... I'm not accusing anyone of being a poet.
Anonymous
...Fkn cherry pie?! ... I'd of smacked anybody else in the balls. Hashtag just sayin'. 
Accuse is a very strong word. Mere suggestion.
Accuse is a very strong word. Mere suggestion.
case28 said:First I'd like to apologise to Madame Lavender for suggesting she was the mother of a poetry lover and I was the graduate... it's just that... when you say cluster-fuck I picture you standing there in the forum wearing a white lab coat... and nothing but... damn!
Secondly, I want to clarify why I don't think we should consider what we do as art. I think creativity and expression in the form of poetry should be fun and satisfying to the individual, and having a great forum such as DU allows us to share our poetry, and through sharing we are finding inspiration and developing our creative skills. I think as soon as we put our poetry on a pedestal and call it art, we are killing the joy and satisfaction we get from the creative process by taking ourselves too seriously.
Ok, Dustin Hoffman--I'm old, but not that far removed, age-wise from you, to be your Mrs. Robinson, but you're entitled to your fantasies.
Anyway! I think we can call poetry many things, from hobby, to art, to a paycheck for some, and it all depends on what definition applies to each of us in our lives at any given moment. Regardless, of what poetry "is", I do think that aside from everything else, it is a form of release, therapy, soul-searching, a way of documenting ourselves and our worlds, throughout the various times and seasons of life. I think it is a creation that almost takes on a life force of its own and becomes a parallel "us", the true people we actually are as opposed to the ones we portray in everyday life or must show the world at times. If it becomes art in the process or anything else, then let it morph into what it was meant to be, for each of us as individuals.
Secondly, I want to clarify why I don't think we should consider what we do as art. I think creativity and expression in the form of poetry should be fun and satisfying to the individual, and having a great forum such as DU allows us to share our poetry, and through sharing we are finding inspiration and developing our creative skills. I think as soon as we put our poetry on a pedestal and call it art, we are killing the joy and satisfaction we get from the creative process by taking ourselves too seriously.
Ok, Dustin Hoffman--I'm old, but not that far removed, age-wise from you, to be your Mrs. Robinson, but you're entitled to your fantasies.
Anyway! I think we can call poetry many things, from hobby, to art, to a paycheck for some, and it all depends on what definition applies to each of us in our lives at any given moment. Regardless, of what poetry "is", I do think that aside from everything else, it is a form of release, therapy, soul-searching, a way of documenting ourselves and our worlds, throughout the various times and seasons of life. I think it is a creation that almost takes on a life force of its own and becomes a parallel "us", the true people we actually are as opposed to the ones we portray in everyday life or must show the world at times. If it becomes art in the process or anything else, then let it morph into what it was meant to be, for each of us as individuals.
Anonymous
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Anonymous
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I suppose you can't have one without the other. Art is therapeutic and therefore poetry is therapeutic. Some may get the therapeutic feeling when they're observing art (reading, listening etc.) and some may get it by creating art. That's my point of view on this one. For me it's both and can't be separated
Indeed, it’s true. Poetry is a catharsis for me and you. Shock, anger, fear and guilt; forgive me fellow poets, these emotions I’ll be releasing upon you.
Yesterday afternoon, my good friend, and neighbor, took her life. She was not the first person I have known to do so. Yet, she is the only person I have ever known, who’ act of self-destruction, wasn’t the result of extenuating circumstance. Just a little past her fortieth year, Anne was an intelligent educated and beautiful woman, whose life was not being determined by the kayas of chemical dependency or poor life choices. Neither had she had a history of depression or previous mental instability. In fact, she seemed just short of perfect. Someone, whom, if you had a daughter, you’d be proud to see what she had become. Loved by family and friends, Anne was the picture of stability.
Then, starting just a little over a month ago, she began to slide into an abysses of paranoid delusion. Believing there was a conspiracy by friends and family, Anne thought her every move was being monitored by hidden microphones and cameras. Within the last two weeks she became extremely delusional. During this time period the police were called several times by those concerned about Anne’s welfare. Each time, they went away saying they could do nothing, as Anne was not a danger to herself or other’s.
On the eve of yesterday, I came home to my condo to find Anne’s parents in a distraught state. They thought Anne was going to harm herself. The police were summoned once again. I was certain, that this time, they would take her in for a mental evaluation.
To my disappointment they wouldn’t. So on the day after, Anne drove to a bridge, and at the beginning of rush hour, threw herself into the Mississippi River. Though I was not surprised intellectually, I am shocked emotionally.
After Anne, is laid to rest and her distraught loved ones have come to terms with her loss, I’ll be sponsoring an ongoing competition on how we as poets, can encourage society to help the victims of mental illness.
Sorry, to vent upon you. But Anne was one of the more beautiful flowers in my garden, a bloom take way to soon.
God Bless
Yesterday afternoon, my good friend, and neighbor, took her life. She was not the first person I have known to do so. Yet, she is the only person I have ever known, who’ act of self-destruction, wasn’t the result of extenuating circumstance. Just a little past her fortieth year, Anne was an intelligent educated and beautiful woman, whose life was not being determined by the kayas of chemical dependency or poor life choices. Neither had she had a history of depression or previous mental instability. In fact, she seemed just short of perfect. Someone, whom, if you had a daughter, you’d be proud to see what she had become. Loved by family and friends, Anne was the picture of stability.
Then, starting just a little over a month ago, she began to slide into an abysses of paranoid delusion. Believing there was a conspiracy by friends and family, Anne thought her every move was being monitored by hidden microphones and cameras. Within the last two weeks she became extremely delusional. During this time period the police were called several times by those concerned about Anne’s welfare. Each time, they went away saying they could do nothing, as Anne was not a danger to herself or other’s.
On the eve of yesterday, I came home to my condo to find Anne’s parents in a distraught state. They thought Anne was going to harm herself. The police were summoned once again. I was certain, that this time, they would take her in for a mental evaluation.
To my disappointment they wouldn’t. So on the day after, Anne drove to a bridge, and at the beginning of rush hour, threw herself into the Mississippi River. Though I was not surprised intellectually, I am shocked emotionally.
After Anne, is laid to rest and her distraught loved ones have come to terms with her loss, I’ll be sponsoring an ongoing competition on how we as poets, can encourage society to help the victims of mental illness.
Sorry, to vent upon you. But Anne was one of the more beautiful flowers in my garden, a bloom take way to soon.
God Bless
