Any long work in which poetry is persistent, be it epic or drama

Any long work in which poetry is persistent, be it epic or drama

22/09/2025
17/10/2025

Any long work in which poetry is persistent, be it epic or drama or narrative, is really a succession of separate poetic experiences governed into a related whole by an energy distinct from that which evoked them.

Any long work in which poetry is persistent, be it epic or drama
Any long work in which poetry is persistent, be it epic or drama
Any long work in which poetry is persistent, be it epic or drama or narrative, is really a succession of separate poetic experiences governed into a related whole by an energy distinct from that which evoked them.
Any long work in which poetry is persistent, be it epic or drama
Any long work in which poetry is persistent, be it epic or drama or narrative, is really a succession of separate poetic experiences governed into a related whole by an energy distinct from that which evoked them.
Any long work in which poetry is persistent, be it epic or drama
Any long work in which poetry is persistent, be it epic or drama or narrative, is really a succession of separate poetic experiences governed into a related whole by an energy distinct from that which evoked them.
Any long work in which poetry is persistent, be it epic or drama
Any long work in which poetry is persistent, be it epic or drama or narrative, is really a succession of separate poetic experiences governed into a related whole by an energy distinct from that which evoked them.
Any long work in which poetry is persistent, be it epic or drama
Any long work in which poetry is persistent, be it epic or drama or narrative, is really a succession of separate poetic experiences governed into a related whole by an energy distinct from that which evoked them.
Any long work in which poetry is persistent, be it epic or drama
Any long work in which poetry is persistent, be it epic or drama or narrative, is really a succession of separate poetic experiences governed into a related whole by an energy distinct from that which evoked them.
Any long work in which poetry is persistent, be it epic or drama
Any long work in which poetry is persistent, be it epic or drama or narrative, is really a succession of separate poetic experiences governed into a related whole by an energy distinct from that which evoked them.
Any long work in which poetry is persistent, be it epic or drama
Any long work in which poetry is persistent, be it epic or drama or narrative, is really a succession of separate poetic experiences governed into a related whole by an energy distinct from that which evoked them.
Any long work in which poetry is persistent, be it epic or drama
Any long work in which poetry is persistent, be it epic or drama or narrative, is really a succession of separate poetic experiences governed into a related whole by an energy distinct from that which evoked them.
Any long work in which poetry is persistent, be it epic or drama
Any long work in which poetry is persistent, be it epic or drama
Any long work in which poetry is persistent, be it epic or drama
Any long work in which poetry is persistent, be it epic or drama
Any long work in which poetry is persistent, be it epic or drama
Any long work in which poetry is persistent, be it epic or drama
Any long work in which poetry is persistent, be it epic or drama
Any long work in which poetry is persistent, be it epic or drama
Any long work in which poetry is persistent, be it epic or drama
Any long work in which poetry is persistent, be it epic or drama

Hear, O seekers of wisdom, the words of John Drinkwater, who speaks of the profound nature of long works in poetry: “Any long work in which poetry is persistent, be it epic or drama or narrative, is really a succession of separate poetic experiences governed into a related whole by an energy distinct from that which evoked them.” In this reflection, Drinkwater offers us an insight into the intricate structure of long-form poetry. He teaches us that even in the epic sweep of a grand narrative, each moment of poetry—each verse, each line—is a distinct experience. Yet these separate moments, though fleeting and individual, come together to form a unified whole, held together by an energy that transcends the sum of its parts. This energy, this force, is what binds together the disparate moments of poetry into something greater than the individual scenes, emotions, or thoughts it captures.

In the ancient world, the epic was the highest form of poetry. Homer’s Iliad and Odyssey, for example, are vast, sprawling works made up of countless smaller poetic moments. The Iliad begins with a single quarrel between Achilles and Agamemnon, but as the story unfolds, we encounter a multitude of characters, emotions, and conflicts. The rage of Achilles, the wisdom of Nestor, the sorrow of Hector—each character's experience is its own poetic moment, unique and separate from the others. Yet, the energy of the epic—the unfolding story of war, honor, and fate—binds these moments together into a unified, powerful work. Homer did not merely craft individual poetic lines; he wove them into a narrative that transcends the individual and speaks to the collective experience of the human condition.

Consider also the Greek tragedy, exemplified by Sophocles’ Oedipus Rex. Here, too, we find a work where individual poetic moments are linked together by a greater energy—Oedipus’s discovery of his own fate, his interaction with Tiresias, the chorus’s reflections on human suffering. Each scene in Oedipus Rex is a distinct poetic experience, but it is through the relentless unfolding of these separate moments that the tragedy builds to its devastating conclusion. The energy of the play—the inevitability of fate, the tension between knowledge and ignorance—binds the separate poetic experiences into a cohesive whole. This force, this overarching energy, is what gives poetry its power to affect the audience not just as a collection of individual experiences but as a unified, complete work that resonates on a deeper, universal level.

In Shakespeare, we see this dynamic play out as well. The plays of Shakespeare are composed of countless poetic moments, from the soliloquies of Hamlet to the sweeping oratory of Macbeth, each one a distinct burst of emotion or insight. Yet, Shakespeare’s genius lies in how he connects these separate moments, how he links the poetry of Hamlet’s musings on life and death to the tragedy of his inaction, or how he binds Macbeth’s growing guilt to his eventual downfall. The energy of the entire work—the struggle between ambition, fate, and morality—unites these poetic experiences, turning them into a timeless reflection on the human soul.

The same principle applies to the narrative poetry of the 19th and 20th centuries. In Lord Byron’s Don Juan, we see the progression of a young man’s life through a series of adventures, romances, and moral dilemmas. Each poetic episode in Don Juan is unique, yet the energy of the narrative—the exploration of youth, love, and freedom—binds these episodes together. The poetry of Byron is not merely a sequence of individual events; it is a sustained exploration of human nature, told through the lens of humor, satire, and lyrical beauty. Each line in Don Juan is a brushstroke in a grand portrait of the human experience, and it is the energy of the poet’s voice that unites them into a cohesive whole.

In all these examples, Drinkwater’s words resonate: poetry in long works, be it epic, drama, or narrative, is not just a succession of individual moments, but a continuum bound together by a central energy. This energy drives the narrative forward, giving meaning to the poetic moments and allowing them to accumulate into something far more profound than their individual parts. It is through this energy that the epic, the play, or the narrative poem achieves its power, transcending its components and speaking to the deeper truths of life, love, and human experience.

The lesson here is one of unity and purpose. Whether we are crafting poetry or experiencing it, we must understand that it is the energy that drives the work forward, linking individual moments into something greater. The poetry exists not just in isolated moments but in the interplay between them, the way in which each moment contributes to the whole. As writers, we must be conscious of this energy—how the moments we create relate to one another and form a unified whole. As readers, we must approach long works of poetry with the understanding that the beauty and power of the work come not just from each individual line, but from the way they resonate together.

Practical actions follow. As a poet, recognize that long poetry requires more than just beautiful lines; it requires a cohesive energy that binds those lines together into a unified whole. Experiment with structure, theme, and rhythm to find how each individual moment contributes to the overall narrative or emotional arc of the poem. As a reader, approach long works of poetry not just as a collection of moments but as a single experience, where each poetic moment plays a part in building toward a greater understanding of the themes and emotions explored. Understand that the power of epic poetry, drama, and narrative poetry lies in the unity of their parts, driven by a central energy that elevates the work beyond the sum of its parts.

Thus, John Drinkwater reminds us that great poetry is not just a collection of moments but a carefully crafted whole, bound together by a sustained energy. Whether in epic, drama, or narrative, the poet’s task is to create an energy that carries the reader or listener through the work, making each poetic experience contribute to a larger, more profound truth. Let us, therefore, embrace both the individual moments and the energy that unites them in our own creative endeavors, recognizing the beauty of both the parts and the whole.

John Drinkwater
John Drinkwater

English - Poet June 1, 1882 - March 25, 1937

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Have 6 Comment Any long work in which poetry is persistent, be it epic or drama

MH10SN-09- Phan Vu Minh Hang

I find this statement both enlightening and challenging. It suggests that creating a long poetic work isn’t merely about stringing moments together but about channeling a separate, sustaining force. I wonder how modern writers approach this compared to classical poets. Is this energy more apparent in oral or performed traditions, where rhythm and emotion might naturally unify the work, or is it equally present in purely textual compositions?

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HNHongHai Nguyen

This makes me question the role of audience perception. If each poetic moment is experienced individually, but the overarching energy binds them, do readers need to recognize this energy consciously to appreciate the work? Or is it sufficient that the work simply ‘feels’ unified? I’m particularly interested in how different forms—epic, drama, narrative—affect the interplay between micro-experiences and the macro-energy that structures them.

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GHTrieu Thien Gia Huy

I’m curious about the idea that the energy governing the whole is distinct from the energy generating individual poetic moments. Does this suggest a sort of meta-emotion or meta-rhythm that guides the overall arc? If so, how conscious is the artist in shaping it? Could this explain why some long works feel seamless despite variations in tone, style, or subject, as if an invisible force is orchestrating the entire experience?

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THTran Han

This perspective makes me reflect on narrative flow and artistic coherence. How does one balance the autonomy of separate poetic experiences with the necessity of a unified whole? Could too much focus on individual moments risk fragmenting the work, while too much emphasis on cohesion dilute the intensity of each experience? I’d like to explore examples in epic poetry or dramatic works where this tension is handled particularly well or poorly.

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CCwrierkTraan

I find this idea intriguing because it emphasizes the dual nature of long works: individual experiences and the larger framework. Could this mean that the reader or audience experiences each section as a self-contained moment of poetry while subconsciously sensing the overarching energy? I’m interested in whether Drinkwater sees this energy as something that can be taught or cultivated, or if it is purely an intuitive product of the artist’s vision.

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