kborsden
Has a few recurring issues
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- Oct 4, 2006
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I was at my favourite coffeehouse, The Kettle and The Pot, where I go to disappear on a regular basis – they have a poetry-corner-style evening on Saturdays – and this weekend I was introduced to ‘Organic Poetry’. These five lads from Neath read a brilliant piece, I’m assuming by themselves, about an oak tree – it obviously symbolised in its beginning a linear evolution of man and then later became an almost free flowing dispersion of expression…it wasn’t any of that arty-farty shit where you get people contorting themselves into daft shapes while someone reads pretentious crap, but a poem read by five unified voices that at a certain point became different poems read simultaneously…the words were so cleverly chosen that the overlapping effect gave the impression that you could actually hear creatures rustling in the undergrowth and wind blowing between leaves, and all the while there was no confusion or disorientation from what those words actually were because at intervals they converged again – fucking marvellous, I was mesmerised and my name was on the list to follow! Stunned and, to be honest, a little dumfounded and so in awe of what I’d just experienced, I forgot what I was going to read (see, normally I choose two to three poems and memorise…I find it helps to be more involved with the audience, not with my eyes on a sheet of paper…it’s a more intimate experience – thanks for the tip, Kev!) - I thought I’d bollocks it up completely, but, thankfully, things turned out fine and I just winged it, improvised a piece, stealing bits and bobs from other poems floating around in my head at the time. Perhaps, just perhaps, I could claim a certain ‘organic’ dimension to that, completely forgotten what I actually said, so in the flow of it. The experience has taught me that I sometimes over prepare and left me wondering about the actual integrity of the piece that had culled my cool. Although the piece read by those five lads was beyond words and clearly took ages to rehearse and polish to perfection, maybe something similar could also be created on the spur of it…I mean, wouldn’t it be fascinating to witness a few poetically minded persons who, for no apparent reason just jam with words? I’ve often stated in my crits how the best poems for me are alive in that they are almost constantly in a state of flux, you know the ones, the ones you just can’t finish, that are never quite complete, that you just can’t put down to rest! I’ve one on this very message board that maybe some of you will remember, Weathered Grove, Green Forest –
although I’m no longer adding to it here, it is, believe me, still very much alive on my computer, even if it is tucked away to stop me losing my mind…but I do, at times go back to it, and so it continues. Great! Now I’ve forgotten the point, if any, that I was trying to make – that damn poem!! Oh yeah, what I was getting at was, the boys called their style ‘organic’ and yet it was, in my mind, technically synthetic. So, what I’d like to discuss is whether poetry can ever be ‘organic’. They way I see it, the only truly organic pieces are those that I referred to earlier – incomplete, the white whales that turn out to be the ultimate white elephants.
although I’m no longer adding to it here, it is, believe me, still very much alive on my computer, even if it is tucked away to stop me losing my mind…but I do, at times go back to it, and so it continues. Great! Now I’ve forgotten the point, if any, that I was trying to make – that damn poem!! Oh yeah, what I was getting at was, the boys called their style ‘organic’ and yet it was, in my mind, technically synthetic. So, what I’d like to discuss is whether poetry can ever be ‘organic’. They way I see it, the only truly organic pieces are those that I referred to earlier – incomplete, the white whales that turn out to be the ultimate white elephants.
