“Would you know why his poems
never mention the soil or the leaves,
the gigantic volcanoes of the country that bore him?
Come see the blood in the streets,
come see
the blood in the streets,
come see the blood
in the streets! ”
—Pablo Neruda, in “Explico Algunas Cosas” or “A Few Things Explained” (Selected Poems of Pablo Neruda, edited and translated by Ben Belitt, 1961)
Dear reader,
In July 1936, General Francisco Franco led a military uprising in Spain. A democratic republic was overthrown in the resulting Spanish Civil War (1936-39), backed by planes and weapons from Mussolini and Hitler. A month later, Franco’s “nationalists” arrested poet Federico García Lorca, a friend of Pablo Neruda, who was also living in Madrid at that time. When someone asked an official about Lorca’s crimes, right-wing politician Ruiz Alonso, the man who reportedly led the arrest, shouted: “He’s done more damage with a pen than others have with a pistol.” Lorca was shot and killed by a firing squad three days later.
The man was right, in a way. Lorca believed the poet’s role was to disrupt, break, rebel, and speak truth to power without fear or bias. “The poet is always an anarchist in the best sense of the word,” he said. “He must heed only the call that arises within him from three strong voices: the voice of death, with all its foreboding, the voice of love, and the voice of art.”
Like Lorca, Neruda too believed in the poet’s ability and responsibility to react to the realities of his or her day. So did Yevgeny Yevtushenko, Vladimir Mayakovsky, Octavio Paz, Maya Angelou, our own Kamala Das or Gaddar, and ancient China’s Qiu Jin. Their disruptions targeted the varied geographies of society and self, taking many forms and styles. And in that process, some lost life, livelihood, love, and more.
That’s why Dylan Thomas called a good poem “a contribution to reality”. The world is never the same once a good poem has been added to it, he wrote. “A good poem helps to change the shape of the universe, helps to extend everyone’s knowledge of himself and the world around him.” Evidently, poets have long been society’s chroniclers, weaving tales of love, loss, and the human condition.
Yet, the very societies the poets reflect are in flux, especially in today’s world, leaving it the poet’s role to adapt and transform. Clearly, the contemporary world in which the poet exists is more different, more difficult, than the era of the pre-Romantic or Romantic poets or even the War poets. Today’s poet navigates a complex landscape, grappling with the challenges of social media, performance pressures, and the ever-present need to network.
Poets across continents share this struggle. In Africa, where oral traditions hold strong, they must navigate the tension between ancestral storytelling and the digital sphere. Latin American poets, like the firebrand El Salvadoran revolutionary Roque Dalton or Peruvian poet César Vallejo, traditionally used their verse to challenge political injustices. Their counterparts today struggle to be heard in the cacophony of online activism. In his seminal “Letters to a Young Poet,” the 20th-century German poet Rainer Maria Rilke stressed on introspection as the key to artistic creation: “Go inside yourself”. This introspective ideal, however, clashes with the realities of the digital age, which demands constant engagement.
In the age of hypervideo, there is also the pressure to “perform” poetry, a double-edged sword. Poetry slams and Instagram reels while providing a platform run the risk of commodifying the art form, turning poems into set pieces rather than solitary acts of reflection. Poetry changes when it is placed in the faster-paced, visually-oriented online culture. Then, there is the pressure to network. Earlier, literary circles fostered connections and mentorship. Today, poets can feel isolated, their struggles unseen and unheard. Many poets fear their work is lost in this new circus of life.
Yet, from these challenges arise opportunities. Social media, for all its pitfalls, can be a powerful tool for reaching new audiences. Performance poetry, when done right, can create a visceral connection between poet and listener. Networking, while time-consuming, can connect poets to like-minded individuals and collaborators.
I feel the modern poet is, in essence, a shapeshifter, retaining the ability to plumb the depths of human experience while becoming more adaptable and audience-aware. Perhaps Rilke’s advice can be reinterpreted for the digital age as: “Go inside yourself, but don’t stay there. Use your inner voice to create art that resonates with the ever-evolving world around you.” The future of poetry depends on it. Because irrespective of the Kafkaesque changes engulfing us, we need poets to scream when it’s needed and draw attention to “the blood in the streets”.
These stray thoughts, dear reader, are my way of introducing this beautiful and brief personal essay by poet K Srilata, who discusses the changing landscape of Indian poetry in English and the challenges poets face to find their place on the literary map.
On that note, don’t miss Frontline’s recent series of reviews and essays on the evolving landscape of Indian poetry. Follow Srilata’s piece with a recent one by Nabina Das on poetry from north-eastern India and how it captures the trauma of everyday violence.
One last thing: if you are a bookworm, subscribe to our newsletter “Reading with Frontline”, produced by my colleague Anusua Mukherjee. Some good things in life are free.
Wishing you a week filled with poetry,
For Frontline,
Jinoy Jose P.
We hope you’ve been enjoying our newsletters featuring a selection of articles that we believe will be of interest to a cross-section of our readers. Tell us if you like what you read. And also, what you don’t like! Mail us at frontline@thehindu.co.in
