
Originally Posted by
JBI
There is a discussion going on amongst Canadian poets about whether one can actually write wilderness. The general conclusion is that though one cannot actually write wilderness, one can circle it, and come close to it, allowing for the reader's perceptions to get close enough that they can get the idea, and use their own imagination to take them over the fence. Metaphor allows for the unreal to temporarily be the real, through what Coleridge called the "suspension of disbelief". Metaphor is the soul of the imagination, and metaphor is the soul of poetry. One cannot feel, but one can relate, by means of comparison.
Only poetry can do that. Of course then, poetry then acknowledges its own failure. Ultimately it can only offer a glimpse, and ultimately that glimpse has to die. Poetry is bound to a cycle of time, and each word, line, stanza, and poem naturally has to die. But the words, through rereading, are allowed to be reborn within the reader's imagination, for a time, and to offer an outlet into another world.
This is the preoccupation of all poetry, and is perhaps done the best in great works, like Wordsworth's Inclinations Ode, Eliot's Four Quartets, Shakespeare's Great Sonnets, and Leopardi's Canti. One cannot walk into paradise through poetry, but one can come to the gate, and that is the function.