Poetry Is A Kind Of Lying Poem by Jack Gilbert
Poetry Is A Kind Of Lying
Poetry is a kind of lying,
necessarily. To profit the poet
or beauty. But also in
that truth may be told only so.
Those who, admirably, refuse
to falsify (as those who will not
risk pretensions) are excluded
from saying even so much.
Degas said he didn't paint
what he saw, but what
would enable them to see
the thing he had.
But if I don't lie than the wind becomes just an item on the weather station that states it is coming out of the southwest at 15 mph. My goodness, facts like that just reaches out and grabs us by the heartstrings and twirls us around the room in an ecstasy of excitement. Scientific treatises make me feel so... so... so lying in the street run-over dead. I think I am posting this comment as a poem... ;) But then again I might be lying.
Hmmm....Jack Gilbert says Poetry is a kind of lying. Well, tis true that a lot of exaggeration goes into some poetry- we don't really die of a broken heart [it just feels that way]. And if I say the wind is a large and growly bear than I am most certainly lying my head off [an absurd phrase if there ever was].
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/19/2024 3:52:52 PM # 1.0.0.1119
A poignant rendition set aside for sober reflection. Really an insightful piece of poetry written with conviction.