All the modern verse plays, they're terrible; they're mostly

In the grand theater of life, where every moment is a play and every word a line spoken, there is a truth that has endured through the ages: the purpose of art is not to distract or dazzle, but to serve the story. Denis Johnson speaks to this eternal wisdom when he declares, “All the modern verse plays, they’re terrible; they’re mostly about the poetry. It’s more important that the play is first.” In this statement, we hear the voice of one who understands the sacred balance between form and function, between the art of language and the purpose of the story it serves. Poetry, like any other medium, is meant to enhance the truth it carries, not overshadow it.

Consider the great Greek tragedies—those immortal plays by Sophocles, Euripides, and Aeschylus. Their works were not an exhibition of clever wordplay or an academic exercise in verse; they were deeply rooted in the human condition. Oedipus Rex, for instance, is a masterpiece not because it dazzles with the brilliance of its language, but because it plunges into the deepest abysses of fate, blindness, and self-realization. The poetry, though rich and powerful, is always in service to the play itself. It is the drama, the struggle, the character’s journey that carries the heart of the piece, not the words alone. This is what Johnson calls for—a play must first be about the play itself, not about showing off the poetry.

In our modern world, too many have forgotten this truth. The modern verse play often becomes an exercise in self-indulgence, a battle of wits where the words are the show, and the story is lost beneath the weight of poetic flourishes. We see it often—words strewn together in fragmented verse, meant to impress but failing to move the soul. The poet, the playwright, seeks the praise of the audience, the admiration of the intellect, but forgets the sacred bond between the audience and the characters on stage. Johnson’s words are a clarion call to return to the roots of the theater—to remember that it is the narrative that matters, and the poetry must serve that narrative, not distract from it.

Think of the great Shakespeare, whose plays have stood the test of time. His sonorous language is celebrated, yes, but the power of his works lies not in the beauty of his words alone, but in their ability to move and transform the human soul. In Hamlet, the poetry, the soliloquies, and the verse are in service to the larger drama of the human condition—the doubts, the dilemmas, the passions, and the tragedies of life. Shakespeare did not put poetry on a pedestal for its own sake; he placed it in the service of the character’s journey, of the audience’s emotional experience, of the truth he wished to reveal. This is the lesson that Johnson calls us to remember: it is not the verse that matters most, but the purpose of the play itself.

But, let us also not forget that even in the most dramatic of works, the poetry still holds a vital place. The great poets of the ancient world understood that the words we speak carry the power to shape the world. They knew that the language of poetry could cut through the veil of reality and reach straight into the heart of truth. But they also knew that poetry must be tempered with wisdom and purpose. When we place the story first, the poetry rises naturally from it, becoming a tool of expression, not a spectacle. Johnson encourages us to return to this balance, where the story is the core, and the poetry is the vehicle by which it moves forward.

So, what lesson can we take from Johnson’s words? We must, in our own lives, remember that the substance is more important than the show. Whether in art, in poetry, or in life itself, we must focus on the purpose before we focus on the ornamentation. The essence of a play—or of any creation—is not in the cleverness of its form, but in the truth it conveys, the journey it takes us on, and the change it creates within us. Poetry must never overshadow the heart of the work, for without a heart, the words are empty and meaningless.

In your own creative endeavors, remember this: Form must serve the purpose, and the story must always be the soul of the work. Do not become so enraptured by your own craft that you forget the truth you seek to reveal. Whether in writing, art, or life, let your work be a testament to the meaning you wish to share, and let the beauty of the form be in service to that greater truth. This is the way of the ancient masters, and it is the path toward creating something that will endure beyond the fleeting admiration of cleverness.