Poetry - a faithful mistress

Once I did a small scale survey to find out how many people read poetry. My random sample included a journalist, a doctor, a lawyer, an engineer, a teacher, a computer operator and a student of archaeology.

The journalist who used to write a regular column on crime said he never read poetry. The doctor said that he had no time for poetry. The lawyer's answer was the same. The teacher who taught English for advanced level classes said he avoided poetry like the plague.

The computer operator shot back a question" What's poetry? The student of archaeology said he sometimes read poetry published in newspapers but he never bought books of poetry. The engineering student surprised me by saying, "I read and write poetry."

If my sample was a fair one, I could come to the conclusion that very few people read poetry. Most adults in Sri Lanka do not read poetry. Only a few students read poetry for ordinary level and advanced level examinations. I really do not know whether they would continue to read poetry in their adult lives.

Why do people keep away from poetry? The answers can be numerous:

"I have no time for poetry"

"I can't understand the poetic language."

"Poetry is something outdated. Why do you want to write poetry when you can write prose?"

Poetry reading is a waste of time."

Despite such negative attitudes poetry has been with us for centuries. If you fall in love with poetry, you will never give up reading poems. What happens most of the time in school is that teachers do not encourage poetry reading. They only help students to pass examinations. After the results are out poetry is completely forgotten.

Does it mean that only old blokes like me read poetry? I got the craze of reading poetry more than 50 years ago when I was in school. We had a wonderful teacher who read and taught poetry as if he were in a trance.

When he got deeper and deeper into a particular poem, he did not know where he was or the passing away of the time. I can still remember what happened in the classroom on a particular rainy day. The poetry teacher (the late Mr. T. Max Perera) asked us to open the book "On Freedom's Way' and turn to page 85.

He started reading "The Highwayman" and we listened to him with rapt attention:

"The wind was a torrent of darkness among the gusty trees,

The moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas

The road was a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor,

And the highwayman came riding-riding-riding

The highwayman came riding, up to the old inn-door."

His rendering was so effective that I heard the galloping sound of a horse just outside the classroom!

In this Digital Age both parents and teachers want to create robots out of students. With Information Technology, science and other technical subjects, today's student is a virtual cramming machine.

Therefore, we must pave the way for students to cultivate an interest in poetry. Unlike a cricket match, poetry is for private enjoyment. There were, however, occasions when poetry was a mass medium. I can remember a poetry session held at Rahula College, Matara a few decades ago. The chief guest C. W. W. Kannangara opened the session by reciting some "Hitivana Kavi".

Then there were magazines devoted to publish Sinhala poems. "Meevadaya" edited by John Rajadasa was selling like hot cake. At that time ordinary people read Sinhala poetry. Students read English poetry in schools. With the rapid changes in education, poetry was thrown out of the window and students started reading text books and listening to recorded music.

We are living in an era of mass culture. People want to congregate in groups, sing and dance. Unfortunately, poetry is not for them. Poetry can be enjoyed only individually. Although there are occasional poetry reading sessions here and abroad, their contribution to enjoyment of poetry is negligible.

Meanwhile, sophisticated people are attracted to painting and music because they have an international appeal. Poetry has no such appeal because it cannot be translated into any other language effectively. When a poem is translated into another language it loses its attraction. This has adversely affected a large number of people who would otherwise have been good poetry readers.

No one can force you to fall in love with somebody else. Similarly, no force on earth can Force you to read poetry. Love of poetry emanates from the heart. Unlike human relationships in which you fall in and out of love, when once you fall in love with poetry, you will remain faithful to it, I fell in love with poetry five decades ago and she is pretty old now. But I do not wish to give her up. Also I know that her love is real and it is not mere infatuation!

Unlike a woman, poetry will not betray your trust. Similarly, poetry will appeal to both your head and heart. However, poetry may not bring you riches. You cannot work as a poet and earn your living.

Except in England, poetry is still not an exportable commodity in Sri Lanka. Even if you write a book of poetry, there will be only a few takers. But do not be discouraged by these negative statements. Poetry will make you a better man or a woman sensitive enough to enjoy the beauty and sanctity of life.

Those who have already read leading poets such as William Blake, Robert Browning, Lewis Carroll, Geoffrey Chancer, S. T. Coleridge, Walter de la mare, John Donne and Robert Frost can now read some of the good poems written by Sri Lankans. Jean Arasanayagam, Patrick Fernando, Yasmine Gooneratne, Lakdas Wikkramasinha and Anne Ranasinghe are some of the leading local poets who write in English. Lakdas Wikkramasinha's "The Cobra" is a short poem that is memorable:

"Your great hood was like a flag
hung up there
in the village
Endlessly the people came to Weragoda -
watched you (your eyes like braziers)
standing somewhat afar
They stood before you in obeisance, Death
The power of the paramitas, took you to heaven however,
The sky, vertical, is where you are now
showing the sun, curling round
and round my mind.
They whisper death - stories
but it was only my woman Dunkiriniya,
The very lamp of my heart,
that died

Now let us have a look at an extract from Jean Arasanayagam's "Wedding photographs": "Have you got any wedding photographs,"

I ask achchi,
"No nothing," answers my mother-in-law
It all happened well over a half century ago,
No, there are no reminders of
traditional poses

Framed behind glass but I see them both Pata, achchi seated on that velvet-covered divan Beneath the flower decked man averai, Achchi's slender neck, she was only sixteen so fragile, weighed down by that thali of twenty Gold sovereigns."

This extract, I hope, will give you a fore-taste to read Jean Arasanayagam's poetry. Some of her poems have been prescribed for public examinations. Here is another gem from her anthology entitled "Women, all women" published in India: child/woman

The sun holds glittering glass bangles of light. To your eyes but your wrists are already manacled,

You stretch out your hands
And find they are shackled.
Your lips are sweet, fresh fruit
But how bitter is the juice that drips
From your wounded mouth.

After reading this essay do not tell yourself that you are now ready to read and enjoy poetry. If you really care, start with one poem you can understand easily. You will continue to grow as you explore poetry of the past and the new poetry that will be written today and tomorrow.

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