I like poetry, but I often wrestle with it. Perhaps that’s why like it. A lot of modern poetry is terse, sparse, pared down to the bare-bones-basic like a jigsaw puzzle with too many pieces missing. It’s often difficult for me to see the whole picture. On the other hand, much classical formal poetry is like a cascade of words, rushing and tumbling, too much, too fast. I feel swept away. Alfred, Lord Tennyson: Poems selected by Mick Imlah is a volume from a series of books from Faber and Faber featuring poems of notable poets selected by contemporary poets.
Tennyson is a master. His poems are immaculately constructed, each word carefully chosen. But I find the diction from a by-gone time a bit too ornate, overblown, with a loftiness that seems intended to impress rather to inspire. The syntax is a bit too convoluted and torturous, creating a challenge to clarity. Give me poetry that is sharp and clear. Give me poems that in the fewest words possible can catch my breath, stir my soul, kick my ass and make me say, “Wow!” Tennyson deserves the appellation of greatness, but his poetry is a bit too baroque for my taste