How much of the poet is the poem, Marcus? When a verse strums a chord deep inside you, the words become yours, as if the sun has painted a new shadow, a different shape that you always knew was within you, that has slipped out to straddle earth and sky, dragging your heart along with it. In that moment, you are poem, you are the light and the poet, no matter who really conceived those lines.
So it wouldn’t change your consideration, your response to the poem, if you knew of the poet’s situation, his struggle, his ecstasy, where his words lingered before they spilt out of his pen?
Does poetry need context? I think all a poem asks for is the reader’s uninhibited imagination, his ability to surrender thought, tiptoe through the spaces and reach for its core, beneath the veil of beauteous words.
And what if the reader wants to look in the poet’s eyes to see the poem unravel?
He could just look in the mirror. A poem can gently lift the corners of his life and shine a light into its unspoken secrets or stare back sullenly daring him to shrug and turn the page. He is the context.
this rain wrapped in sunshine
wrapped in rain