I sometimes talk about the making of a poem within the poem.
Hear the words of Howard Nemerov, master of verse and seeker of hidden truths: “I sometimes talk about the making of a poem within the poem.” These words strike like a bell in the temple of thought, for they reveal the paradox of creation—that art may speak not only of the world outside, but also of its own becoming. In this is a mirror within a mirror, a song within a song, and the recognition that the act of shaping words is itself a mystery worthy of reverence.
To speak of the making of a poem is to unveil the labor behind the beauty. Many who gaze upon the finished work see only the blossom, radiant and fragrant; they do not see the gardener’s sweat, the soil turned, the seasons endured. Nemerov, however, lays bare the struggle and delight of the poet at the very moment of creation. He does not conceal the trembling hand or the faltering thought, but allows the poem to breathe openly of its own birth. Thus the poem becomes not only a vessel of meaning, but a testimony of its own journey into existence.
This is not new among the wise. Did not Homer, in his telling of the heroes, sometimes step aside to speak of the telling itself, reminding the listener that the bard is both witness and maker? Did not Dante, descending into the Inferno, speak also of the writing of his vision, weaving together the pilgrimage of soul and the pilgrimage of pen? So too Nemerov, in his humility, teaches us that the story of creation is itself a creation, and that the act of writing may stand alongside the tale it seeks to tell.
Think also upon Michelangelo, who once confessed that he did not carve the statue, but freed it from the marble. In this saying lies the same wisdom: the process of making is itself a revelation. For as the sculptor reveals his chisel marks, so does the poet, by speaking of the making, reveal the trembling birth of thought into form. When we see both the statue and the stone it was cut from, our awe deepens, for we glimpse not only the beauty, but the labor and vision that made it possible.
What lesson, then, shall we draw? That the work of creation is not to be hidden in false perfection, but to be honored in its struggle. To acknowledge the making of a poem within the poem is to remind us that imperfection, trial, and revision are not weaknesses but the very essence of art. The path is not diminished by showing its stones; it is made nobler. For it tells us that art is not magic wrought in silence, but a human struggle elevated to the divine.
Therefore, O listener, take this into your own labor. When you create, do not hide the marks of your effort. Speak of your doubts, your process, your journey. Let your work bear the fingerprints of your humanity, for in that honesty lies a deeper beauty. Just as Nemerov wove the story of creation into the fabric of his poems, so may you allow the story of your striving to live within the work of your hands.
Practical wisdom follows: in writing, in art, in labor, do not be ashamed to pause and reflect aloud upon what you are doing. Journal the struggle, sketch the rough draft, speak the questions. These, too, are part of the masterpiece. By acknowledging them, you invite others not only to behold your finished work, but to walk beside you in its making. And when they see both journey and destination, their admiration will be deeper, for they will understand not only the flower, but the soil from which it rose.
Thus let the words of Howard Nemerov guide you: the act of making is itself worthy of song. To create is to reveal, to struggle is to teach, and to let the poem speak of its own birth is to show that every moment of labor contains the seed of truth. Walk, then, as poets and makers, and let your works be honest testaments—not only to what you have made, but to the very making itself.
NTThao Chu Nguyen Thanh
Nemerov’s concept of 'making a poem within the poem' is really thought-provoking. It suggests that poetry is a dynamic process, rather than a static object. But does this mean that the poem can never truly be finished, or is there always a moment when it crystallizes into something more? I’m interested in how this approach influences the poet’s emotional and intellectual journey—does it provide a sense of fulfillment or leave them in a constant state of creation?
QHMai Quang Hung
The notion of a poem making itself within its own structure is intriguing. It almost seems like Nemerov is suggesting that poetry is a living, breathing thing—constantly reshaping itself as it’s being written. How does this affect the relationship between the poet and the poem? Is the poet guiding the poem, or is the poem revealing itself as it grows? I wonder how this idea changes the way we think about the creative act in general.
TDHO THI DANG
Howard Nemerov’s statement seems to capture an interesting paradox about poetry. On the one hand, a poem is a finished product, but on the other, there’s a process embedded within it that reflects how it came to be. I’m curious—does Nemerov see this as a way to invite the reader into the creative process, or is it more of an introspective reflection for the poet? How does this approach affect the way a poem is experienced by its audience?
NGTa Ninh Giang
The idea of 'making a poem within the poem' reminds me of the layered complexity in some of the best literature. It makes me wonder how often poets consciously think about the act of writing while they’re writing. Is it always a deliberate process, or does it emerge subconsciously as part of the creative flow? This perspective opens up a whole new dimension to reading poetry, where each poem could be a reflection of its own creation.
ANMa Anh Ngoc
I really like the concept of 'the making of a poem within the poem.' It suggests a deep, almost recursive relationship between form and content. Does this idea reflect how Nemerov viewed the act of writing poetry as a continuous process rather than a one-time creation? I’m curious whether this approach makes the poem feel alive, constantly evolving, or if it risks becoming too self-referential and hard to follow for the reader.