The Perfect Poem

There is no one perfect poem. First, to say that, there must be a reason, and part of it is to try and explain what a poem is and second, what a "perfect" poem is. Perfect, that is, for one individual, but not all. Writing is an elusive art like most others. Its success all seems to depend on its popularity. Those masters who teach poetry expound on certain poets who have or have had, a following. Apart from the poets' dexterity in word-smithing, they know how to see the world at large and find something to write about, something that resonates in the reader. When you read or hear the words, you think "oh, how true", "that's exactly how I feel when...", "this brings tears to my eyes". The poet pulls something out of you that you know is truth. To you. Someone else may read the poem and see nothing of value. That's how elusive poetry is. Like music or painting or sculpture or seeing dance, it's a personal emotion that is elicited only by savoring the piece. It may be palatable, memorable, or not. Artists don't go around asking, or shouldn't, if this or that expression of theirs, is okay with you. They feel something personal and are compelled to express it in whatever form of talent they possess. They are people who can't stop themselves from getting it out, whether in words or notes or clay or paint or elegant movement. They don't do it for financial gain and if that happens, it is soon found out and abhorred. Not that some artists who become famous in their lifetimes, aren't tempted to do some commercial things and often do, but public awareness is very keen to see through such forms. I am on a site on-line that daily presents a poem. Most of the poets are people who teach at universities but sometimes a classic poem is dropped into the mix. The two are easily distinguishable. Modern poets seem to look around and paint themselves onto their environment while the classic poets, looked at the environment and found themselves within it.  Frost and others of the more modern set, have that gift of telling, in a few clean words with no affectations, what we all know is truth and beauty, something always there, but that we  we were not aware of. They bring to us, feelings about common things or events that we lost long ago or were never discovered, but that now leap to the surface of our thoughts, and we find pleasure in them. Sometimes poetry flings us into new ideas and places that are exciting or frightening or seductive or amusing. They drag emotions out of us that we didn't know we had. So what is a perfect poem? One that was, and is to be.