What should poetry bring out, then? One simple, solitary word, my fellow heathens: entertainment. Our species at one point or another took their introspection of the world into the arts, and it's been the death of so much creativity. A person just can't plod to a piece of paper and express themselves without someone eventually reading it and destroying its purity and innocence with words like "structure", "diction", and the syllable dreaded most by students forced to read works of literary art - "theme." People just can't leave well enough alone, can they?
The above statement is nowhere restricted to poetry or literature. All the arts, of past and present, fall victim to this ignoble display of pseudo-intellectualism. Why do we have this overwhelming need to find out what the author/poet/artist was really thinking when they created a piece we've chosen to dissect? Makes a gal sick just to think of those stuffy, preppy tight-a**ed "experts" who browse through museums stopping at each work saying words like, "Now here's an interesting piece..." when they know in their hearts they have no clue what the splash of colors and lines in front of them are there for. Somehow, many "patrons of the arts" have lost the ability for pure, unadulterated appreciation. I'd feel sorry for them if I didn't abhor them so.
Did Emily Dickinson write those so many ambiguous jewels of observation for the world to splice like a cadaver? I should think not! And Poe, even in his quest for success among the dogs of literary society, did dear Edgar once long for sleep-deprived teenagers to read his work in mumbled tones of utter boredom and grudgingly try to figure out what his beloved Raven really stood for? No, my friends, no! The sins of fathers before us, the founders of overenthusiastic critiquing, have now forever tarnished the good name of Artistic Expression. For shame, I say, as budding little freaks of today go to our computers or notebooks to empty out our hearts in new and unique styles, only to hear objection from the scholars of structure:
"This is not standard form, young lady."
"I'm aware of that, sir. It's free verse poetry."
"These stanzas are erratically uneven, young lady."
"So you say, sir, but they flow quite evenly for me."
"Your diction seems a tad unusual, young lady."
"That's how people speak in this day and age, sir."
I sit here now and realize even as I'm writing this, I know there will be many who will eventually read it and actually create opinions of this technologically-enhanced rant. What a despicable occurrence I've brought upon myself. No one is safe from the accursed Opinion whenever thoughts or facts find themselves on some form of paper, computer-generated for the rare real stuff. And who is to blame for this demon Judgment? People, that's who! Oh, to be a cat.