Who Says Poetry Never Changed Anything?
Mar. 18th, 2013 09:15 pmI've been thinking a lot about the past lately for some reason--maybe this is just a common practice when you're a historical fiction writer. When you spend so much time thinking about other people's pasts, what could be more natural than reflecting on your own? One thing that happened to crop up in my brain, maybe because I'm coming up on the 25th anniversary of the event, is...as I titled a 2006 Live Journal entry about it..."how a quiet 17-year-old split his senior class".
I can't remember which poet said "Poetry never changed anything," but I have experience that he may have been wrong at least once.
I won't go into a lot of detail about this since I went into a whole lot of detail about it in my original entry. But here are the highlights: The fall of my senior year in high school, two guys from my class were killed in a car wreck. The driver, who I'd known for several years, had been drunk. His passenger, who I didn't know, was not. I wrote a poem about the event called "Temerity", which vented my anger about the whole event, and then finished off angry by saying that many of my fellow students would likely behave themselves with alcohol and driving...for twenty-four hours, and then go right back to what they were doing before.
(I also posted a copy of the poem here if you want to read it.)
As I pointed out in the old entry's title, the poem had a galvanizing effect. The teachers almost universally supported it (the rest said nothing at all). Half the senior class--close to literally as best as I could tell--supported it, while the other half wanted me tarred and feathered. I got threatening phone calls until I said I told these people I was recording their calls with my answering machine. (A bluff--we didn't actually have an answering machine.) I was mobbed one day by a large group surrounding the car I was riding in as I was trying to leave the school, and the nicest thing they said was when one demanded I apologize at graduation. I refused, and the mob got out of the way when the friend driving the car, who was more daring than me, gunned his engine and then started moving forward slowly heedless of the people blocking us.
I think one reason I've been thinking about this poem again is that I've also been wondering if my writing actually means anything above and beyond what it means to me personally. Usually this is enough; and when I get published and paid, that's a nice fringe benefit. But there are still the rare but indelible moments where I suddenly want more from it--where I want it to have some kind of extended meaning, to last beyond the measure of whatever it might give me. Probably selfish, I know, but likely an obsession of anyone with any kind of creative streak, be it artistic or otherwise.
My friend![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
gnossiennes posted this as the opening of a great reply to the original entry:
You never actually know how something you've said has affected someone; people who acted defensive at the time may have actually taken what you said to heart and changed their ways. Immediate reactions aren't always indicative of the long term, which is why I think it is always worth it to give someone your heartfelt thoughts on a situation that you think is hurting them, even though it might seem like your words are falling on deaf ears.
She's right, I know, and it's nice to think that "Temerity", or anything else I've written, might have had some kind of positive lasting effect on somebody. One way or the other I'd still be writing, of course; things tend to fall apart for me when I don't. But it's nice to know that somewhere along the line there might be a substance to some of it that won't fade to shadows after I'm gone.
I can't remember which poet said "Poetry never changed anything," but I have experience that he may have been wrong at least once.
I won't go into a lot of detail about this since I went into a whole lot of detail about it in my original entry. But here are the highlights: The fall of my senior year in high school, two guys from my class were killed in a car wreck. The driver, who I'd known for several years, had been drunk. His passenger, who I didn't know, was not. I wrote a poem about the event called "Temerity", which vented my anger about the whole event, and then finished off angry by saying that many of my fellow students would likely behave themselves with alcohol and driving...for twenty-four hours, and then go right back to what they were doing before.
(I also posted a copy of the poem here if you want to read it.)
As I pointed out in the old entry's title, the poem had a galvanizing effect. The teachers almost universally supported it (the rest said nothing at all). Half the senior class--close to literally as best as I could tell--supported it, while the other half wanted me tarred and feathered. I got threatening phone calls until I said I told these people I was recording their calls with my answering machine. (A bluff--we didn't actually have an answering machine.) I was mobbed one day by a large group surrounding the car I was riding in as I was trying to leave the school, and the nicest thing they said was when one demanded I apologize at graduation. I refused, and the mob got out of the way when the friend driving the car, who was more daring than me, gunned his engine and then started moving forward slowly heedless of the people blocking us.
I think one reason I've been thinking about this poem again is that I've also been wondering if my writing actually means anything above and beyond what it means to me personally. Usually this is enough; and when I get published and paid, that's a nice fringe benefit. But there are still the rare but indelible moments where I suddenly want more from it--where I want it to have some kind of extended meaning, to last beyond the measure of whatever it might give me. Probably selfish, I know, but likely an obsession of anyone with any kind of creative streak, be it artistic or otherwise.
My friend
gnossiennes posted this as the opening of a great reply to the original entry:You never actually know how something you've said has affected someone; people who acted defensive at the time may have actually taken what you said to heart and changed their ways. Immediate reactions aren't always indicative of the long term, which is why I think it is always worth it to give someone your heartfelt thoughts on a situation that you think is hurting them, even though it might seem like your words are falling on deaf ears.
She's right, I know, and it's nice to think that "Temerity", or anything else I've written, might have had some kind of positive lasting effect on somebody. One way or the other I'd still be writing, of course; things tend to fall apart for me when I don't. But it's nice to know that somewhere along the line there might be a substance to some of it that won't fade to shadows after I'm gone.
