In Praise of Bad Poetry

Photo courtesy of Hakan Dahlstrom: http://www.dahlstroms.com

We all have different ideas about what makes for “good” poetry. We may not always be able to quantify precisely what distinguishes “good” poetry, but most poets will agree that we simply “know” good poetry when we hear or read it. Good poetry inspires us to create, reveals significant truths about us and our world, makes us think, riles and rallies us to action, and invokes authentic emotions. Yes, good poetry is…well, good.

But what about “bad” poetry?

I believe that bad poetry serves a greater function than simply contrasting for us what’s good. Rather, bad poetry can inspire us to create; it can reveal significant truths about ourselves and our world, make us think, rile and rally us to action, and invoke authentic emotions. In other words, bad poetry can serve the same functions as good poetry.

When Bad Poetry Is Good

I’m not talking about other people’s bad poetry here. I’m talking about your bad poetry and mine. If you believe you never write bad poems, then stop reading now because you’re probably not going to like what I have to say. But if you know you occasionally write bad poetry, then consider this:

In my humble opinion, only great poets can admit that they write bad poems from time to time; only great poets recognize their own bad poetry and aspire to make each subsequent poem better than the last.

There’s simply no way to write good poetry without writing bad poetry. Uninspired, uninteresting, clichéd, and disorganized writing—in short, bad poetry—is an inherent and crucial part of the creative process.

Bad poetry is absolutely necessary to creating good poetry. It’s what comes first. It paves the way for greater insight, for more developed descriptions and stronger images, and for better forms and premises. It tells us what absolutely doesn’t work. And while we try out all the ways poetry doesn’t work, we tend to stumble precisely on what does work. But ultimately, until we fail and fail perhaps many times, we simply won’t get to that good poem—the one that finally expresses original thought and deep truth. So, bad poetry inspires us to create. It’s what challenges us, makes us work harder, and maybe a little longer.

Bad poetry reveals significant truths about us and our world. It is only by muddling through the clichés, half-truths, and outright falsehoods of bad poetry that we come to see clearly the truths that we’re wrestling with. By allowing ourselves to write bad poetry, we open ourselves to what’s possible and by doing so, we often stumble upon deep and universal truths. In this sense, bad poetry also challenges us think harder and in more complex ways about our world in order to get at those truths.

Bad poetry riles and rallies us to action. If you’ve ever been to a slam competition or open mic, then most certainly you have heard a bad poem. If the absolute and utter “badness” of that poem doesn’t rile and rally you to write something good, then you might need to take your poetic pulse. More probable, though, is how your own bad poetry can rile and rally you to action—keeping you up at nights, eliciting fits of frustration or depression, or provoking you to slash whole verses, chunk whole notebooks, burn pages in the dying embers of what you imagine is your writing career.

In other words, there’s nothing quite like our own bad poetry to inspire our passions as poets and provoke authentic emotions in us. We might find ourselves laughing at just how bad that poem really is or perhaps we cry, recoil with disgust, burn with embarrassment and shame, or rage against the inanity of our own words. Yes, all of the emotions that bad poetry provokes can be healthy and good.

When Bad Poetry is Bad

A bad response to our own bad poetry is shutting down, numbing out, and letting discouragement, self-pity, and self-effacement disconnect us from our creativity. Some poets fear writing bad poetry so much that they refuse to write at all, and it is this stubborn willfulness that shuts us down from all creativity and creation. This discouragement and the fear of writing bad poetry have the capacity to ruin brilliant, creative careers before they even start. Ultimately, the only true failure in poetry is not letting ourselves fail and fail badly.

Also, another bad response exists in relation to other poets’ bad poetry. As humans, we can be insecure, petty, mean, judgmental, self-absorbed, and egotistical. I believe that all of these characteristics combine to make us belittle the creative efforts of others and to dismiss those who dare to share their so-called “bad poetry.”

I’ve heard and read plenty of poetry that I judged to be just, plain bad. But it takes a certain amount of social privilege and assumed power to believe that I am the final arbiter of what counts as good poetry. What I find terrible may change someone’s life. Or maybe not. But that’s not really the point.

When Bad Poetry Is Humbling

The point is that I often learn from other poet’s bad poetry. Again, I learn what doesn’t work. I become more astute at recognizing cliché. I get better at seeing how my own work, which I might have previously deemed as “good,” may not be so good after all. I mean, there’s nothing quite as humbling as hearing someone else use the exact some phrase or image that you did.

Bad poetry offers an opportunity to learn humility as poets. And when I say “humility,” I don’t mean self-effacement. No, artistic humility requires a deep and abiding faith and belief in one’s craft and creativity. Humility means that we are not afraid to fail and write bad poems. Nor are we so threatened or offended or snarky about other people’s bad poetry that we fail to see ourselves, our creative weaknesses, and our own artistic insecurities reflected there.

When Bad Poetry is Great

I believe all poets write bad poetry. For instance, consider Samuel Taylor Coleridge’s bad poem, entitled “To a Young Ass,” in which Coleridge deeply identifies with a “beast of burden.” Here are just a few terrible lines:

Poor little foal of an oppressèd race!

I love the languid patience of thy face:

And oft with gentle hand I give thee bread,

And clap thy ragged coat, and pat thy head.

_______

How thou wouldst toss thy heels in gamesome play,

And frisk about, as lamb or kitten gay!

Yea! and more musically sweet to me

Thy dissonant harsh bray of joy would be,

Than warbled melodies that soothe to rest

The aching of pale Fashion’s vacant breast!

Coleridge’s rhyme, especially in the last few lines, makes me simultaneously laugh and want to poke my ears out; and yes, Coleridge actually suggested that the ass would “frisk about, as a lamb or kitten gay,” which is only one laughable and bad image in an overall terrible poetic attempt.

But it’s not just Coleridge who wrote bad poetry. William Wordsworth wrote “The Thorn,” which is well-known as a truly bad poem, and Allen Ginsberg was not only considered a terrible poet by some critics but is said to have spawned whole generations of bad poets. Coleridge, Wordsworth, Ginsberg, me, and you. In other words, our bad poetry is in good company.

Revel in Bad Poetry

There are a few ways you can celebrate and engage with bad poetry. For instance, in order to improve and feel better about your own bad poetry, then try reading a few bad poetry collections, such as Very Bad Poetry, The Stuffed Owl, or Teen Angst. If you want to share your bad poetry, then check out VeryBadPoetry.com. Finally, if you think you have it in you to write a compelling and truly terrible poem, then try entering the free Wergle Flomp Humor Poetry Contest. For Wergle Flomp, you write a bad poem and submit it to a poetry contest. If you’re courageous enough to write and to put your name on a bad poem, then you could win $1500.

So, go ahead, revel in your bad poetry as a sign that you’re truly engaging in the creative process. Good things can ensue from bad writing. It’s just a matter of opening yourself to what is truly delightful about bad poetry.

Got a terrible poem? Make me cringe, laugh, or cry and share your best, bad images or lines here.