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Poetry that fails to communicate to the reader or hearer is nothing, and poetry that does not sing is something but not poetry.

Unlike paints or musical notes, which remain appearances or sounds throughout the artistic process, words persist in meaning things apart from their appearance and sound whether a poet likes it or not. As a result, the love of words had better keep company with a proper respect for what they say. If the structure and the music of a poem are lacking, then intellectual brilliance will not make it a good poem. On the other hand, it is the duty of a poet to say what he means or at least to mean what he says. After all, words communicate meanings to the reader or hearer.

In harmony with this necessary concern for content, my ambition as a poet is to overcome the limiting concept of a poetic subject matter. We have outgrown the notion of poetic diction; we do not speak of sheep as “the fleecy care” or fish as “the finny tribe.” No longer are we allowed to torture syntax in order to fix the meter or rhyme scheme. Obsolete expressions (thee-thou-thy, wouldst, doeth, and the like) are not available to achieve formality the easy way. And yet there still seems to be such a thing as legitimate poetic subject matter. The safest choice of subject these days is perhaps the sensibility of the poet, which unfortunately may lack interest for many others. And as a minor contribution to the art, I avoid poetic punctuation, especially the capitalization of the beginning of each line just because This Is A Poem.

Structurally, I am something of a formalist, little able to sing the lyrics without knowing the tune in advance. Put another way, for me there is no solution without a problem, no answer without a question. By this, I intend no disrespect for the improvisations of free verse. On the contrary, they seem to me the hardest kind of poetry to write really well; a Marianne Moore comes as a sort of miracle.

I choose to publish electronically and to give away a part of my copyright in order to encourage the growth of a cultural community through the internet. A while back, our great cities were hugely alive and centers of a common culture. A man with a blue shirt and a lunch box could debate with you the merits of his favorite composer (Gershwin, Copeland); a woman in a flowered apron could yell from the fire escape through a mouthful of clothespins her favorite poet (Whitman, Eliot) or prose writer (Kazan, Algren, Mansfield, Porter, O’Connor).

Poetry is inaccessible to almost everyone now, read by poets and critics and buried in journals which purport to control what poetry should be - much as the New York galleries have controlled visual art to its great disadvantage. In time, the internet may provide a forum for poetry and other art forms. Upon that event, we can become a cultural community once again – and even without leaving home for the city. Imagine.

In the meantime, I encourage you to recite, print, copy and distribute my poetry. After all, few writers make a living from poetry. You can only help the cause of poetry, in my opinion, by publishing mine. As Dr. Johnson observed, “Every quotation contributes something to the stability or enlargement of the language.” Nonetheless, there are rules.

1. No plagiarism. Absolutely do not pretend that you or indeed anyone other than myself might be the author of any of my poetry whatsoever. Do not repeat in any form so much as a phrase of my poetry without proper credit to C.H. Connors. Do not change anything about my poetry – even if your version is better.

2. Do not make money from my poetry by any means. If I don’t expect to make money from my poetry, why should you? If you have a good idea for a charitable or other publication project with my consent, just write to me so that we can work it out together.

If you violate any of these provisions, I promise to make you sick, sore and lame in federal court. With the unpleasantness out of the way, I thank you very much for being a reader and invite your suggestions, comments and questions at cconnors@midcoast.com or P. O. Box 182, Tenants Harbor, Maine 04860. Let’s be neighbors in the city of What-Is-Written.


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	POETRY C H CONNORS FORWARD Poetry that fails to communicate to the reader or hearer is nothing, and poetry that does not sing is something but not poetry. Unlike paints or musical notes, which remain appearances or sounds throughout the artistic process, words persist in meaning things apart from their appearance and sound whether a poet likes it or not. As a result, the love of words had better keep company with a proper respect for what they say. If the structure and the music of a poem are lacking, then intellectual brilliance will not make it a good poem. On the other hand, it is the duty of a poet to say what he means or at least to mean what he says. After all, words communicate meanings to the reader or hearer. In harmony with this necessary concern for content, my ambition as a poet is to overcome the limiting concept of a poetic subject matter. We have outgrown the notion of poetic diction; we do not speak of sheep as “the fleecy care” or fish as “the finny tribe.” No longer are we allowed to torture syntax in order to fix the meter or rhyme scheme. Obsolete expressions (thee-thou-thy, wouldst, doeth, and the like) are not available to achieve formality the easy way. And yet there still seems to be such a thing as legitimate poetic subject matter. The safest choice of subject these days is perhaps the sensibility of the poet, which unfortunately may lack interest for many others. And as a minor contribution to the art, I avoid poetic punctuation, especially the capitalization of the beginning of each line just because This Is A Poem. Structurally, I am something of a formalist, little able to sing the lyrics without knowing the tune in advance. Put another way, for me there is no solution without a problem, no answer without a question. By this, I intend no disrespect for the improvisations of free verse. On the contrary, they seem to me the hardest kind of poetry to write really well; a Marianne Moore comes as a sort of miracle. I choose to publish electronically and to give away a part of my copyright in order to encourage the growth of a cultural community through the internet. A while back, our great cities were hugely alive and centers of a common culture. A man with a blue shirt and a lunch box could debate with you the merits of his favorite composer (Gershwin, Copeland); a woman in a flowered apron could yell from the fire escape through a mouthful of clothespins her favorite poet (Whitman, Eliot) or prose writer (Kazan, Algren, Mansfield, Porter, O’Connor). Poetry is inaccessible to almost everyone now, read by poets and critics and buried in journals which purport to control what poetry should be - much as the New York galleries have controlled visual art to its great disadvantage. In time, the internet may provide a forum for poetry and other art forms. Upon that event, we can become a cultural community once again – and even without leaving home for the city. Imagine. In the meantime, I encourage you to recite, print, copy and distribute my poetry. After all, few writers make a living from poetry. You can only help the cause of poetry, in my opinion, by publishing mine. As Dr. Johnson observed, “Every quotation contributes something to the stability or enlargement of the language.” Nonetheless, there are rules. 1. No plagiarism. Absolutely do not pretend that you or indeed anyone other than myself might be the author of any of my poetry whatsoever. Do not repeat in any form so much as a phrase of my poetry without proper credit to C.H. Connors. Do not change anything about my poetry – even if your version is better. 2. Do not make money from my poetry by any means. If I don’t expect to make money from my poetry, why should you? If you have a good idea for a charitable or other publication project with my consent, just write to me so that we can work it out together. If you violate any of these provisions, I promise to make you sick, sore and lame in federal court. With the unpleasantness out of the way, I thank you very much for being a reader and invite your suggestions, comments and questions at cconnors@midcoast.com or P. O. Box 182, Tenants Harbor, Maine 04860. Let’s be neighbors in the city of What-Is-Written.

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