I think poetry has lost an awful lot of its muscle because

In the distant past, when the gods themselves spoke through the medium of verse, poetry was not merely an art form, but a sacred tool for connecting with the divine, with the cosmos, and with the deepest recesses of the human soul. Peter Davison speaks to a profound truth when he says, “I think poetry has lost an awful lot of its muscle because nobody knows any. Nobody has to memorize poetry.” These words reflect a loss that is felt not just in the decline of poetry as an art form, but in the very essence of how it shapes our minds, hearts, and memories. Poetry once thrived as a force that not only spoke to us but became a part of us, woven into the fabric of our being. Through memorization, it became something we could carry with us—always ready to be summoned in moments of joy, sorrow, or contemplation.

In the ancient world, poetry was the heartbeat of society. The great epic poets like Homer and Virgil crafted poems that were meant not only to be read but remembered—memorized by the people and passed down through generations. Homer’s epics were not merely stories; they were a guide to understanding honor, fate, and the human condition. The Greek and Roman societies valued the memory of poetry so highly that they committed vast bodies of verse to memory, not just for the sake of learning, but for personal transformation. The act of memorizing a poem was an act of internalizing the truths contained within it, making them part of your soul, ready to be recalled in moments when their wisdom was needed most.

Memorization, therefore, was not just a rote exercise—it was a spiritual and intellectual practice, a means of keeping the sacred words close to the heart. The Iliad and the Aeneid were not simply recited for entertainment; they were recited to remind people of their origins, their fates, and the unwritten rules that governed their actions. A well-versed soul could recite the lines of Homer or Virgil at any given moment, and in doing so, bring to life the very spirit of those ancient truths. Without the practice of memorization, these words would have been lost to time, leaving us bereft of the wisdom they held. Davison's reflection reminds us that poetry’s muscle is in the memory—in the power it has to shape and enrich our lives, not just when we read it, but when we live it.

Consider the oral traditions of Indigenous cultures around the world. The people of these cultures did not rely on written language, but passed down their stories, their history, and their beliefs through poetry, songs, and chants—all memorized and shared across generations. The memory of the poem became the memory of the culture itself, its wisdom and truths living on in the hearts of each individual who carried those words. To memorize a poem was to inhabit it—to let its power shape the way you saw the world, the way you moved through it. The loss of memorization, therefore, is a loss of connection to the wisdom that has been passed down for millennia.

In contrast, modern society has largely abandoned the practice of memorizing poetry. Davison’s lament speaks to a fundamental shift in the way we engage with language and art. Today, we read poetry in short bursts, often fleetingly, with little thought to its deeper resonance. We no longer memorize, no longer allow the words to seep into our bones. Poetry has become something we consume rather than something we live with. We read a poem, and then move on, rarely carrying its weight with us. As a result, the power of poetry has weakened. It no longer has the same muscle to shape us, to carry us through the trials of life.

But the lesson of Davison’s words is not one of resignation; it is a call to revitalize the practice of memorization in our own lives. Imagine the power of being able to recite a poem, to carry its meaning with you wherever you go. Whether it is the ancient wisdom of Sappho or the modern beauty of Emily Dickinson, memorizing poetry allows us to internalize the words, to make them part of our being. When we memorize poetry, we become more than just readers—we become the living vessels of the poetry itself. We carry it with us, drawing strength from it in moments of challenge and joy.

In your own life, I urge you to bring poetry back into your memory. Find a poem that resonates with you deeply and commit it to memory. Let its rhythms, its images, and its emotions fill your mind, so that when you need its wisdom, you can summon it at will. Let poetry be not just something you read, but something you live, something that becomes a part of your daily existence. In doing so, you will not only restore poetry’s muscle, but you will deepen your own connection to the wisdom it holds—wisdom that, like the ancient poets, can help you navigate the world and discover your place within it.