Poetry is fascinating. As soon as it begins the poetry has

Hear now the words of Michael Tippett: “Poetry is fascinating. As soon as it begins, the poetry has changed the thing into something extra, and somehow prose can go over into poetry.” In this reflection, Tippett unveils a mystery of the poetic form—its power to transform the ordinary into the extraordinary. The moment poetry begins, it elevates whatever it touches, making the mundane shimmer with new light, infusing it with significance, beauty, or emotion. Poetry takes the raw materials of the world—thoughts, experiences, objects—and imbues them with layers of meaning that transcend their simple existence. But Tippett also hints at a unique alchemy: that prose, which often deals with straightforward, factual expression, can slip into the realm of poetry. Prose becomes poetry when it touches something deeper, when the words lift the spirit as much as they inform the mind.

The ancients themselves understood the transformative power of poetry. The Greeks, for example, did not see poetry as a mere art form; it was a way to bring order to chaos, to shape the world through language. Homer transformed the events of the Trojan War into more than just a historical account; he made them into an eternal song, a story that would reverberate for millennia. The gods and heroes in the Iliad and Odyssey are not merely characters in a tale—they are elevated to archetypes, symbolic of universal struggles and triumphs. When poetry begins, it turns simple things—words and events—into something that speaks beyond their literal meaning, transforming them into something extra, something that touches the eternal.

Think also of Shakespeare, whose plays, though primarily prose, often transcend this form through the sheer poetic quality of their language. Consider the famous soliloquy from Hamlet: “To be, or not to be, that is the question.” This sentence, which at first might seem like simple reflection, becomes poetry the moment it is spoken, for its rhythm, its depth of meaning, and its universal resonance elevate it. Shakespeare weaves poetry into the fabric of his dialogue, transforming a simple internal debate into something that reaches into the very heart of human existence. Here, prose has slipped into poetry, as Tippett suggests, by transcending the literal and moving into the realm of the eternal.

This phenomenon, this transformation of prose into poetry, is not limited to the playwrights of history. In modern literature, authors such as Virginia Woolf and James Joyce have employed prose that borders on poetry. Woolf’s streams of consciousness in Mrs. Dalloway or Joyce’s passages in Ulysses contain the rhythm, the cadence, and the emotional weight of poetry, even though they are not technically poems. The beauty of their language elevates the ordinary moments of life, making them shine with deeper significance. Their prose is imbued with poetry, as though the line between the two is not fixed, but fluid—always moving, always ready to shift into something more profound.

The lesson here is both simple and profound: poetry is not bound by form; it is a way of seeing and speaking that can transform the ordinary into the extraordinary. Whether in poetry itself or in prose, the essence of transformation is the same—taking words and imbuing them with meaning that transcends the ordinary. When we speak, when we write, we have the power to make the everyday shimmer with deeper truth. A simple observation can become a moment of insight; a thought can become an expression of the eternal. This is the power of poetry—it is not confined to verses, but can be found anywhere the human spirit touches language.

Practical actions follow. If you are a writer, strive to write with the heart of a poet, even in prose. Allow your words to rise from the depth of your experience and your understanding. Seek not only to inform, but to transform. Let your language shimmer with meaning, with emotion, with rhythm. Even in everyday conversation, let the poetry of life be present. If you are a reader, recognize poetry where you find it—not only in the pages of a book of verse, but in the finest prose. Appreciate the moments where language transcends its simple function and touches the deeper truths of existence. Allow yourself to be moved by the poetry hidden in the world of words.

Thus, Tippett’s words remind us that poetry is not a separate world from prose. Poetry is a way of engaging with language that transforms, that elevates, that transcends. Let us then, as writers and readers, seek to find poetry not only in the structured lines of verse but in every corner of language, in every expression of life, in every word that speaks from the heart. The beauty of poetry is that it can appear anywhere, in any form, whenever language is used to connect the heart to the world.