What Makes a Great Poem

I typed that title for this blog post and thought, "Dang, do I really think I'm qualified to write something with that title?" Well, probably not, but I have some things to say on the subject, so I'm going to express them.

I was once asked to define "poem." It's surprisingly hard to do, it turns out. For me, a poem is any piece of writing that places musicality and imagery over every other item that might be on a writer's agenda. I know that is a terrible definition, it really is, but it's the closest I can get right now. I could say a poem is anything written that isn't prose . . . but then there's prose poetry, so there goes that idea.

With this rough definition in mind, then, the thing I think makes a poem great is thisness. James Wood defines the term in his book How Fiction Works: ". . . Thisness is palpability; it will tend toward substance . . . the wax of a bathroom floor, the calendar for 1808, the blood in a boot. But it can be a mere name or anecdote." He goes on to say that thisness is detail that brings a piece of writing to life.

Without details like this, a poem is just "meh." If the details (and through them, the ideas) resonate with me personally, I consider the poem to be a great poem. This makes it a highly personal thing, whether or not a poem is actually outstanding. If a poem does not make you nod while reading it, doesn't make you want to stow it away somewhere for future reading, doesn't make you pause and say, "This," then it didn't do its job, frankly. Maybe the issue is you, maybe the issue is the poem. For me, if a poem doesn't resonate, I figure it's either good/fine, bad, or (and this is the worst option) "meh." "Meh" (think "bland") is the worst option because it means the poem incited no emotion or response whatsoever, and poems are supposed to make you respond to the text. I would consider that the function of any poem.

I'm okay with reading good poetry. I prefer great poetry. Thisness helps a poem to hit home, and that's why I use it as my main criteria for what makes a poem amazing. Here's a poem that resonates with me. Feel free to disagree, but I'm going to use it to illustrate my point. It's by Memye Curtis Tucker.

This poem has a lot of technical thisness (12 centuries, fear of leaving the king prey to evil spirits, the glaze, etc.), but that's not what hit me. It's more like the arm that's behind the fist that hit me, with the fist being the ideas the thisness conveys. I feel truth in this poem, and that is why I consider it a great poem. It isn't in my face, telling me I need to learn something; it seems more like an unassuming observation, and the thisness makes it real. The poem would not have half the power it does were it not for the thisness involved.