I've written some poetry I don't understand myself.
O seekers of wisdom, gather and listen carefully, for the words of Carl Sandburg carry a deep truth about the nature of poetry: "I've written some poetry I don't understand myself." In these simple yet profound words, Sandburg reveals a powerful paradox of the poetic process—how poetry, even in its creation, can transcend the poet’s own understanding. The act of writing poetry is not always an act of control, of shaping every word with clear intention. Sometimes, the poet becomes a vessel, channeling something deeper, something beyond their full comprehension, yet still producing something meaningful. Poetry is not always a matter of intellect or clarity; it can be a journey into the unknown, a creation born of instinct, emotion, and something beyond the rational mind.
In the ancient world, poetry was not always understood, even by those who wrote it. Socrates, the great philosopher of Athens, famously said that the poets often spoke of truths that they themselves did not understand, suggesting that their wisdom came not from reason, but from divine inspiration. The Muses, in the ancient Greek tradition, were said to bestow poetry upon poets, often without the poet fully understanding the meaning of the words they spoke. The poet, like a prophet, could be both the creator and the interpreter of divine messages, yet those messages were often beyond their understanding. Sandburg, in his admission, acknowledges this ancient truth—that the poet can be a conduit, a medium through which poetry flows, and sometimes that flow takes them to places they cannot explain.
Consider the example of William Blake, the visionary poet and artist of 18th-century England. Blake created works that were deeply symbolic, mystical, and filled with spiritual insight, yet he often claimed that he was not the true creator of his works. He believed that his poetry was inspired by visions, by angels and spirits, and that his role was to transcribe these visions into human language. In this sense, Blake’s poetry often took him to places of deep mysticism, where the meaning was not always clear, even to him. Yet, this lack of understanding did not make his work any less powerful; rather, it infused it with a mystery that has captivated readers for generations. Blake, like Sandburg, acknowledged that the poet is not always in control of the words they write.
The poet is often a pilgrim, journeying into unknown lands. Rainer Maria Rilke, the great German poet, once said that the poet must be like a "traveler in a strange land," walking through the dark without fully understanding where they are going, yet trusting that the journey itself is the source of insight. In his Letters to a Young Poet, Rilke urges the poet to embrace the mystery of their own work, to accept that not all answers will be clear, and that it is through the searching, the questioning, that the poet creates something truly profound. This is the essence of Sandburg’s reflection—poetry is not always a path to clarity; it can be a journey into the mysterious, where the destination is unknown even to the poet.
So too, in our own lives, we often find ourselves creating or acting in ways that we do not fully understand. Sandburg’s statement speaks to the mystery of creation itself. Just as we sometimes say things we do not fully comprehend or feel emotions that we cannot put into words, so too can we create works of art—be they poetry, music, or painting—that are beyond our understanding. Poetry is not simply the expression of known truths; it is the expression of the unknown, of the unspoken. Sandburg teaches us that this is part of the beauty of the art—its ability to transcend the conscious mind and speak to something deeper within us.
The lesson of Sandburg’s words is this: do not be afraid to create without fully understanding the outcome. Trust that, in the act of creation, you are tapping into something beyond your intellectual grasp. Whether you are writing poetry, painting, or pursuing any creative endeavor, allow yourself the freedom to explore the unknown, to embrace the mystery of the process. Understand that the value of poetry is not always in its clarity or in its intellectual explanation, but in its ability to touch the soul, to stir something within us that cannot always be explained.
Thus, O children of wisdom, let us take this lesson to heart: creation is not always about comprehension. Sometimes it is about surrendering to the flow, allowing the work to emerge as it will. The poet, like the prophet or the artist, may never fully understand the depth of their own work, but in the act of creation, they contribute to the greater mystery of life. Let your poetry be a journey into the unknown, and trust that, even if you do not fully understand where it leads, it will speak to others in ways that words alone cannot capture. And in this, you will find the true power of poetry—its ability to transcend the limits of the mind and speak to the heart.
DTNguyen Duc Thuan
Sandburg’s statement is refreshing in its honesty. It reminds me that writing, especially poetry, can be a journey, even for the poet. Sometimes, the act of writing may bring out thoughts and feelings that are not fully understood at first. Does this make the poem more open-ended for the reader, or does it challenge the poet’s credibility? I’m curious about how poets navigate this balance between intention and mystery in their work.
PDNguyen Huynh Phuong Dung
I’m struck by Sandburg’s comment, as it challenges the idea that poetry should always be fully understood by its creator. Does this reflect a kind of freedom in writing, where the poet lets their subconscious take over? What does it mean when a poet doesn't fully understand their own work? Does it imply that poetry, like art in general, can transcend intellectual understanding and reach deeper, more instinctive places?
BNBao Ngoc
Sandburg’s admission about writing poetry he doesn’t understand raises an interesting question about the creative process. Do we always have to fully understand the meaning behind our own creations? Maybe some poetry is more about feeling, intuition, or emotion rather than clear logic. Could this be why some poems evoke such strong reactions in readers, even if the poet themselves doesn’t entirely comprehend what they’ve written?
P_21_ Chau Kim Phat _7A7
I find Sandburg’s statement intriguing—it suggests that poetry isn’t always about clarity, even for the writer. It’s fascinating to think that a poet can create something that surprises even them. But does this lack of understanding make the poem more relatable to readers? Can a poem’s mystery open up space for different interpretations, or does it lose some of its power if even the creator isn’t sure of its meaning?
THTrang Hai
Carl Sandburg’s admission that he’s written poetry he doesn’t fully understand resonates with me. It suggests that poetry, like any form of art, can sometimes go beyond the writer's own comprehension, taking on a life of its own. Is this something that all poets experience? Can a poem have meanings and layers that even the poet doesn’t fully grasp? Does that make the poem more profound or just elusive?