Performing Poetry

Beryl Cook: Poetry Reading

I've been planning to post something on 'Seeing Things: the Poet's Vision' but my 'poetry time' has been much taken up with preparing for a poetry performance with the group I work with - choosing poems, timing them, finding images to complement them, rehearsing and so on.

As it seems a long time since I posted here I thought I'd repost some of what I wrote a year ago about performing poetry (you can read the full account here) with a few added comments.

"To prepare I read up on the performance of poetry in medieval Wales.... I was rather interested in the word used for ‘to recite’ , ‘datganu’, literally ‘to sing back’. I don’t know what the underlying concept of this word was – it could be something fairly prosaic perhaps, such as the idea of the poem being sung back to the poet – but it sparked off various mystical overtones for me. If poetry is inspired, i.e. breathed in from the Muse or the Awen, then to recite it is to breathe it out – to give it life and offer it back to the source - and out to the external world.

Uttering something is also creative and may be an act – or enactment - of truth. The performance of the law in early Ireland not only served as an aid to memory for recording judgements but also created and transformed law. So, I mused, performing poetry is also creative in itself and an enactment of truth, however humble, homely or personal.

I didn’t really expect to find any useful information about how to successfully perform one’s poetry, but surprisingly the Gramadegau’r Penceirddiaid (the Welsh Bardic Grammars), and the Statute of Gruffudd ap Cynan, offered me some, courtesy of Patrick Ford [Patrick K Ford, ‘Aspects of the Performance of Poetry in Medieval Wales’, Bangor University Foundation Lecture, March 2003].

Firstly: ‘Tri pheth a beir kanmawl kerdawr, nyt amgen: dychymycvawr ystyr, ac odidawc kerdwyryaeth, ac eglur datkanyat’. ‘Three things that bring praise to a poet: imaginative meaning, formal excellence, and clarity of recitation.’ (GP)

Secondly: ‘Tri pheth a gytbreinant ymadrawd (ac a’e) teilygant: ehudrwyd parabyl, a (chywreindeb) synwyr, ac annyan(a)wl dyall y datk(einyat)’. Three things that bring honour to (poetic) expression and make it worthy: fluency of expression, elegant sense, and full understanding of the reciter’. (On the other hand, ‘pŵl datkeinyat’ , ‘dullness of the reciter’ results in a loss of dignity.) (SGC)

Thirdly: ‘Tri phetha vrddassant gerd: ehudrwyd ac ehofynder parabyl ac ethrylith y datkeinad’. Three things that ennoble poetry: the liveliness, confidence, and natural ability of the reciter. (GP)

It would suit me, I thought, to have a datgeiniad to recite the poems for me while I stood ‘proudly by’ as one Irish commentator put it. Although, as the Bardic Grammars pointed out, it is rare that a reciter is able to recite a poem exactly as the poet composed it. But in the absence of such a person I had another entity to fall back on: the persona. And as confidence was an important component of the performance of poetry, I felt that I needed to call upon a confident persona that the unconfident self could hide behind…

So, I concluded, what I needed was fluency of expression, elegance, a sensitive reading of the poems which brought out their meaning, liveliness – and a confident persona –

As well as this useful advice, I was greatly helped by Ami Mattison’s wonderful website/blog poetryNprogress which I happened to find. Her 11 Tips for Spoken Word Beginners were invaluable. The most useful I found were these:

1. Develop a unique performance style. Always express your poetry in your own style.

2. Rehearsal is fundamental to consistent and successful performances.

3. Never apologize or make excuses and don’t explain.

4. Love your audience. Ami says this is the most important and I couldn’t agree more. She says that when you perform it’s not about you, it’s about the audience. Respect and love them by giving them everything you’ve got to give in your performances. It’s a privilege to share your poetry with an audience of strangers."

I'll add here some words by D. Idwal Lloyd, a Welsh poet and member of the Gorsedd of Bards in Wales, about taking in poetry through the ear rather than the eye:

"Welsh poetry has been traditionally oral, so its sound was as important as its sense. It had to be aurally pleasing so that the listener could enjoy it even though he or she did not understand every word. Since printing has replaced the laborious copying of manuscripts, books of verse have been readily available so that the appreciation of the poems has been increasingly influenced by the eye more than the ear. As the eye is the gateway to reason, poetry today is more often judged on its logical content while the pattern of words, metres, rhythm and rhymes are regarded as an additional though not essential ornament. In the past Welsh poetry was listened to rather than read, hence the importance of its sound to the ear, for the ear is the way to the heart as well as the mind." [my italics] (Celtic Word Craft)

The Poetry Archive is an excellent resource for listening to poets reading their own work.

How do you find it reading or performing your own work?  How important to you is sound? I'd love to hear from you!

Inspiration and the Poem as a Cauldron

                 Alesandro Paiva

True poetic practice implies a mind so miraculously attuned and illuminated that it can form words, by a chain of more-than-coincidences, into a living entity – a poem that goes about on its own (for centuries after the author’s death, perhaps) affecting readers with its stored magic…the source of poetry’s creative power is not scientific intelligence, but inspiration…
Robert Graves

As Graves says, the source of a poem's creative power is inspiration, that spark which gives birth to an image, words, a rhythm or an idea and renders them charged and potent. The poet's task is therefore to attune her or his mind to receive inspiration. But that isn't the end of the story - for the poem to be able to store the magic it needs to be a sound vessel, well-crafted so that there are no chinks through which the magic can seep away.

Think of it as a cauldron - just as the ancient smiths had to be skilled at their craft when making cauldrons, the poet has to be a word-smith, hammering and shaping the poem until it is a worthy vessel. The Old Irish word for poet, fili, comes from a root meaning 'seer' and is cognate with Welsh gweled, 'to see'. The Old Irish word for poetry creth contains the meaning 'shape'and the Welsh pryd-ydd (poet, shaper) is cognate. The poet needs to be a seer and a shaper, the poem being that which is shaped.

The task of the poet or aspiring poet is then two-fold: firstly to attune and illuminate the mind to be itself a receptacle of awen, the poetic gift, and secondly to practice the poetic craft in order to make the poem into a suitable container for it.

Occasionally, when the poet is completely in harmony with its source, the poem is received fully-formed, a visitation of grace. The linguist Calvert Watkins has suggested that the image underlying creth and prydydd is one of magical transformation and perhaps, when the poet arrives at the peak of her or his craft and has a mind fully-attuned to inspiration as well as expert in the poetic craft, the poem appears as if by magic.

I hope, from time to time, to explore here these twin tasks of attunement and craft as I set off on my own poetic adventure - aided by wisdom from ancient Irish and Welsh poets as well as from traditional and contemporary poets and poetics. 

You're welcome to join me!