I have been around poets a long time. If I had to sum up my experiences with these practitioners of the "sullen art,” I'd have to use a movie title, The Good, The Bad, and the Ugly. In other words, poets or wannabes are people with all kinds of temperaments, personalities, and characters.
I confess, however, that I became quite cynical early on. Perhaps due only to the circles I ran in, I encountered too many poseurs and bigger-than-life egos among the poets. Many should be praised for their dedication to and seriousness about poetry. Unfortunately, many of those produce poetry far smaller than their egos.
In recent years, my cycnicism has been challenged by a number of new friends and acquaintances, all poets or poets-in-training. I must say that I am surprised and encouraged to have met literally dozens of poets whose skill and talent levels vary but whose hearts are in the right place. I speak of the many fine people I have met through the Georgia Poetry Society and through NetWest (the western chapter of the North Carolina Writer's Network). They have shown me that it is possible to be poets who are human, compassionate, friendly but, most importantly, not elitist and condescending. It's a pleasure to be proven somewhat wrong, though I reserve the right to point fingers in the future. Hopefully, I will have grown wise enough to point the right finger in the right direction.
Still I am tempted from observance of the wider poetry world to coin an axiom and say that ego dilutes art. Yet there are many great poets with giant egos. In the final analysis, I suppose I am trying to define the perfect poet.
First, he/she must obviously have talent, an unteachable essence. Second, writing craft must be fine-tuned, a largely teachable set of skills. Third, the poet must have unique vision and voice combined with a deep understanding of human nature, along with the skill to put those into words.
Someone with those three qualifications might very well make a great poet, but do those traits alone make a perfect poet? I say no. Assuming talent, skill, vision, voice, and human understanding all abound, does empathy follow? I say no again. Clever serial killers could have all of these traits, but that would not make them poets.
As a sidebar, let me stress that I do not condemn ego. I have too much of it to ignore in myself. I suggest that it be used as a writing prompt rather than as something that does the writing. In other words, ego should not be the reason you write; it should only help you write. In measured doses, it's a good thing.
Empathy and compassion are key. In my opinion, the best poets write with a detached empathy. The poet feels but is not consumed by the subject, nor does the poet intrude on the poem. A poet without compassion is a hollow shell.
The love/hate relationship is another potent fuel of creativity. You must love the subject of your poem, even if you speak against it. In order to write about something or someone you hate, you must first find something about them to love. In other words, you must love your enemies.
It's easier, of course, to write about the things or people you truly love. However, there is the danger of not seeing the flaws, of being a superficial observer. Just as you must love your enemies, you must also hate your friends—or at least hate or love something about their lives.
Back to ego. The proverbial question, "Why do you write?” is usually answered with ego. "I write because I must!” is the usual scripted answer. I say no one is forced to write, even those who love to write. I also say that doing something else altogether might satisfy you just as much. I address that statement mostly to those who haven't had much success as poets but still think they were born to be bards. I'm not telling you to give it up. I'm just saying that for you there might be a better road to self-fulfillment.
There are poets who write and poets who do (this is a subject that deserves its own blog—stay tuned). It is perhaps more important to help someone in need than to write a poem, even a great one. Fame and ego-strokes may not come from generosity to others, but in reality your deeds may touch far more people than any poem. Poetry is not always a written or spoken art. Sometimes the way one lives is the most profound, most lasting poem.
—Robert S. King