Deep feeling doesn't make for good poetry. A way with language
In the art of poetry, there is a fundamental truth often overlooked by those who seek to write: deep feeling, though it may stir the soul, does not always translate into great poetry. Thom Gunn offers us this insight when he says, "Deep feeling doesn’t make for good poetry. A way with language would be a bit of help." Gunn’s words are a reminder that poetry is not merely an expression of raw emotion, but a craft—one that requires not only passion but also skill, precision, and an intimate understanding of language. It is not enough to feel deeply; one must also know how to shape those feelings into something that will resonate with others, something that will endure and transcend the moment of inspiration.
This concept is not new. The ancient poets knew well that the strength of their art lay not only in the depth of their feelings but in their mastery of the language. Homer, for example, did not merely write about the emotional turmoil of Achilles or the heroic journey of Odysseus—he wove those emotions into a structure, a language, that was both powerful and timeless. The Iliad and the Odyssey are not just stories of warriors and gods; they are monumental works because Homer understood the power of language to elevate emotion into something eternal. The language he used was not the raw expression of feeling, but a crafted medium capable of carrying those feelings through time, across generations.
Gunn’s quote also echoes the words of the Romantic poets, who believed in the importance of the individual voice but also emphasized the need for the poet to have a command over language. William Wordsworth, whose poetry often arose from the depth of personal feeling, still maintained a disciplined use of language to ensure his emotions were both communicated and refined. His most famous works, like Lines Composed a Few Miles Above Tintern Abbey, show a deep connection with nature, but it is the carefully chosen language and the structure of the poem that give his feelings depth and resonance. The emotions are undeniable, but they are shaped by skill and awareness of poetic form.
Take, too, the example of Sylvia Plath, whose deeply personal, often painful poetry resonates with raw emotion. Yet, it is her control over language, her use of metaphor and vivid imagery, that transforms her emotions into poetry that speaks across time. In her famous poem Lady Lazarus, Plath’s intense feelings of suffering and rebirth are conveyed not through a simple expression of emotion but through a highly crafted structure that gives those emotions weight and meaning. Her mastery of language allows her to take the deepest pain and turn it into something universally understood, something eternal.
The truth in Gunn’s words lies in the idea that feeling alone, while powerful, does not guarantee great poetry. Poetry requires the crafting of emotions into words—the choice of the right word, the careful construction of lines, the weaving of images that elevate the emotional content. In ancient Greece, poets like Pindar were praised not just for their subject matter but for their virtuosity with language. Pindar’s odes, which celebrated victors of the Olympic Games, were not mere celebrations; they were triumphs of linguistic art, showcasing his profound ability to capture the exultation of victory in elevated, musical language.
In the modern world, Gunn’s words serve as a reminder to all poets: emotion is the starting point, but it is the craft of language that shapes that emotion into something larger than the self. The deep feeling that inspires a poem may come from an experience of love, loss, joy, or pain, but it is the language, the structure, and the form that transform it into poetry. Without this craftsmanship, even the most profound emotions can fall flat, unable to reach their full potential. Great poets, from Homer to Plath, teach us that the key to powerful poetry lies in our ability to balance feeling with skillful expression.
So, the lesson here is clear: if you seek to write poetry, begin with your feelings, but never forget the importance of language. Allow your emotions to flow, but learn the tools and techniques of poetry—the rhythm, the meter, the metaphor—that will give your words the power to transcend the moment. Poetry is not just the expression of raw emotion; it is the craft of turning that emotion into something that resonates deeply with others, something that endures through time. Just as Homer and Plath did, so too can you find ways to take your deepest feelings and shape them into something eternal through your mastery of language. Let feeling be the spark, but let language be the fire that transforms it into art.
Tthanh
I’m struck by the pragmatic tone of this observation. It suggests that poetry is as much about precision and control as it is about passion. Does this imply that some emotionally intense but linguistically clumsy poems fail to communicate effectively? I also wonder whether Gunn’s statement reflects a broader tension in the arts: the challenge of transforming subjective experience into a work that others can perceive, understand, and feel, highlighting that mastery of craft amplifies rather than diminishes emotional impact.
TNDang Thi Ngoc
This raises interesting questions about education and natural talent in poetry. If deep feeling isn’t enough, should aspiring poets focus primarily on language mastery and literary techniques? I also wonder about the interplay of emotion and skill—can technical prowess ever fully compensate for a lack of genuine feeling, or do both elements need to coexist for truly effective poetry? This makes me reflect on how we evaluate poetic success and what criteria matter most.
MPTran Thi Mai Phuong
I feel that this statement challenges the romantic idea that poetry is purely an emotional outlet. Does this mean that poets must master technical skills—rhythm, diction, form—to make their emotions meaningful to readers? I also question whether this perspective diminishes the value of instinctive or unpolished poetry. Could there be merit in works that prioritize authenticity of feeling over linguistic elegance, or does Gunn argue that craft is indispensable?
Sson
This makes me think about the balance between emotion and craft in poetry. Can raw feeling alone ever produce work that resonates, or is skill with language essential to shape emotion into art? I also wonder whether Gunn is suggesting that technique is a tool to elevate feeling rather than suppress it. Could a poet with deep emotions but limited control over language risk producing work that is moving but unrefined or inaccessible?