Not for the first time the announcement of the winners in the National Poetry Competition – and congratulations to Partridge Boswell, the other winning poets, and every single person who had a poem which made it onto the longlist, because to get even that far is a huge achievement – has kicked off something of a furore in some parts of the poetry world. I’ve seen the winning poem called opaque, wordy, arrogant, boring, contrived, and more. So why the fuss?
Before I go any further, let’s put my cards on the table.
Do I like the poem? I can’t say I do. It’s not my cup of tea.
Would I have chosen it as the winner? No, I wouldn’t. But that’s irrelevant, as a) I wasn’t asked to judge the National, b) I’m unlikely ever to be asked to judge the National, and c) the people who were asked to judge the National, and who definitely know their poetic onions, did choose it as the winner.
Now, for the purposes of full disclosure, I entered some poems in this year’s competition. They may very well have fallen at the first hurdle; it’s also possible (but unlikely, ed) that they all lurked together just outside the longlist. Much as I’d like to believe they were grouped immediately below the cut-off point which would have offered some kind of validation of my work, the truth is I don’t know. The truth is also that it doesn’t matter. I enter competitions in hope, but – and here’s the important bit – I write poetry because I love it, because I enjoy playing with words, because poetry allows me to express myself as clearly and imaginatively as possible, because I sometimes surprise myself with what I write.
Now, poets do – generally – want people to like their work. We have, to varying degrees, a need for validation from the poetry community, but we aren’t all writing – or reading and enjoying – the same kind of poetry. Does that mean there’s nothing of worth in poems I don’t like? Not at all. It just means [drum roll] that I don’t like them. They don’t speak to me. And there’s no reason why they should. I don’t suppose the poem’s ever been written that is loved by everyone. Different people have different tastes. One man’s meat etc.
Poet Pat Edwards mused about this on Facebook earlier today, using the metaphor of food to explain her take. We don’t all like the same food, she pointed out. Nor should we. Our individual taste is unique to us. It’s complex. It may be contradictory. But the world’s a better place precisely because it is made up of millions of unique responses to food. I agree. We can celebrate bacon butties, tarka dhal, yorkshire puds, burritos, and veggie lasagne without having to eat every last one of them all the time.
Hmmmm. That talk of food’s made me peckish. Time for a slice of toast and a cuppa.
Who knows? After that, I may even write a poem.