Poetry

www.kenyanpoet.com/2016/05/11/20-promising-
contemporarykenyan-poets-redefining-art-form/ 

     Poetry? Is it popular? Or is it simply an esoteric and elitist fading artform kept alive by professors of English?
     In 2015, there was an article in the Washington Post, Poetry is Going Extinct, Government Data Show. Per the graph, Americans who read poetry at least once in the past year has dropped from 17% in 1992 to 6.7% in 2012. That seems to be a huge decline. The article reported that knitting was twice as popular as reading poetry.
     The same study by the National Endowment for the Arts was updated and the following was reported in mid-June. Per the New Republic:

The National Endowment for the Arts reported Thursday the results of a survey showing that poetry reading is rising sharply among American adults. A previous survey in 2012 showed just 6.7 percent of Americans read poetry in the previous year. In the new survey, that number jumps to 11.7 percent. There were particularly strong showings among women (14.5 percent), African-Americans (15.3 percent) and those with graduate or professional degrees (19.7 percent).

     I have always thought that poetry should be more popular as our lives get busier and

more congested with the hustle, bustle, and chaos that our connected 24/7 work lives have become. While we might not have enough time to read a provoking novel or thoughtful essay, we can read a poem in considerably less time and get the same or more satisfaction. My colleague Daniel White Hodgeat North Park University, studies the poetry of rap and hip-hop. Bob Dylanwas awarded the Nobel Prize in Literature for his lyrics. The poetry in hip-hop, rap, and Bob Dylan songs are neither esoteric or elitist. They are clearly accessible to and actually accessed by large swaths of the population. These lyrics resonate with people, get them thinking, fill a need or void, and provide some entertainment. That is what literature is supposed to do… isn’t it?
     I have infrequently blogged about poetry e.g. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. I even have a blog dedicated to my own poetry: Mark Gavoor’s Poetry. I was motivated to write this piece today because of two poems I have read, was impressed with, and wanted to share.
     My friend, Ara Topouzian, sent me a book of poems, Harvest of Memories, that his late uncle Hagop Topouzian penned. He self-published in 1968 and I can only guess how seldom these poems have been read. They are not necessarily the kinds of poems I seek to read, but I did get to understand and admire Hagop. Here is one of the poems that I liked:

To a Flower

You live and die
Without a heart,
And don’t know why
Before her sight.

You live and die
Before her sight,
And don’t know why
Without a heart.

But I knew why
In her mild sight,
I stay and sigh
With all my heart.

     It is not a deep poem, but it resonated with me. It has a playful symmetry that appeals to both the mathematician as well in the poet in me.
     The second poem is by Tatul Sonentz-Papazian. Tatul, who turned 90 in May of this year, is a man of Armenian arts and letters. He was born in Cairo. He was educated at the Mekhitarist College in Vienna and the French Acadmie Libre des Beaux Arts. He came to the United States in 1951 as Art Director, Publications, Middle East Section of the US information Agency. He got married, started a family, settled in Boston and worked in local publishing firms and advertising agencies. His membership in the Armenian Revolutionary Federation (ARF) led him various positions organizations in the ARF families. He is a long-time contributor to the English language Armenian Weekly and the Armenian Language Hairenik. He is a prolific author and painter. He provided this lovely poem and Facebook yesterday when he granted me permission to use here. I am impressed by the touching quality of this poem in what has to be Tatul’s third, fourth, or fifth language. I am both in awe and inspired…

THE WIND, MY LOVE…

I sit alone
In the backyard
Of our past
And the memory
Of your touch comes back
With the rising wind
Caressing away
The wrinkles of time
That a red-hot longing
Etched on my skin
Since you went away
On a bright day
Of spring…