Poetry is one of the few nasty childhood habits I've managed to
In the journey of life, there are certain pursuits we carry with us from childhood, like echoes of a past long gone. Some of these pursuits become lifelong passions, while others are seen as fleeting, the childish whims that time eventually leaves behind. Tom Holt's words, "Poetry is one of the few nasty childhood habits I've managed to grow out of," carry with them a sharp and playful wisdom, a reflection on how poetry, once a spontaneous and perhaps immature impulse, can later be dismissed as a habit that no longer serves the adult mind. Yet, within this seemingly lighthearted statement, there lies a deeper, more thoughtful truth about the role of art and expression in shaping our lives.
In ancient times, the poets were not viewed as indulging in childish whims, but as vessels of divine wisdom. The Greek bards, like Homer or Sappho, saw their poetry as a sacred duty—one that transcended the frivolities of youth. Homer's Iliad and Odyssey, for instance, were born out of a sense of purpose that far outstripped any fleeting childhood fancy. These poets and their works were bound to the fundamental questions of life—honor, fate, death, and the human condition. Poetry was not a passing habit, but a calling, a sacred practice that captured the essence of the human soul and its interaction with the divine. Holt, however, seems to suggest that in the modern world, poetry has been reduced to a “habit” that one must grow out of—an act that, though once cherished, no longer holds the same seriousness or importance in the adult world.
Yet Holt’s self-deprecating reflection on poetry also reveals a deeper tension: the struggle between the spontaneous and playful impulses of childhood and the structured, often pragmatic demands of adulthood. In the ancient world, youth was seen as a time of playfulness and discovery, a time when the soul was free to explore the world through art and creativity. Plato, in his dialogues, believed that the child’s mind was free and unburdened by the constraints of society, making it open to the divine inspirations that could guide the poet’s hand. Children were encouraged to play with language and sound, and their poetry was often a pure expression of their joy and wonder at the world around them. To grow out of such a habit, as Holt suggests, might be seen as a rejection of the spontaneous creativity that lies at the heart of youthful expression.
However, Holt's statement also raises an important question: Can the childlike joy of poetry truly be left behind? The great poets of every age have always carried the playful impulse of childhood with them, even into adulthood. Consider William Blake, whose early works, filled with childlike wonder and imagination, were later joined by the mystical and profound explorations of humanity and the divine. Blake’s poetry is infused with a sense of playfulness that transcends childishness—his works invite readers to see the world through the eyes of a child, with awe and curiosity, while simultaneously addressing the deepest, most serious concerns of existence. Blake did not grow out of poetry as a habit; rather, he evolved his understanding of it, allowing it to express more complex truths while never abandoning the innate creativity of his youth.
Holt, in his humor, might be pointing to the common perception that as we age, we outgrow the “childish” joys of poetry and creativity, replacing them with pragmatism and realism. But, as with Blake, this process of maturing does not necessarily mean leaving behind poetry, but instead allowing it to mature and grow with us. Poetry, like all great art, is a way of engaging with the world that never loses its importance, no matter how much we change or grow. Just as the Greek poets used poetry to explore the nature of gods and men, so too can modern poets use the same form to explore the complexities of our existence, our relationships, and our society.
The lesson to draw from Holt's reflection is this: Poetry, though it may seem a fleeting or childish pursuit to some, is in fact a timeless and necessary act of self-expression. Rather than growing out of it, we must learn to evolve with it, understanding that the act of creating poetry is a means of connecting to both our inner selves and the world around us. Youthful imagination is not something to discard but something to be nurtured and channeled into a mature understanding of the world. Like the ancient poets who once played with words to capture the essence of the human soul, we too must learn to embrace poetry at every stage of life, allowing it to grow and transform with us.
In your own life, whether you are a poet, an artist, or someone seeking to connect with the deeper layers of existence, do not be afraid to embrace the creativity and wonder of childhood. Do not dismiss poetry or any form of art as a frivolous habit, but see it as an essential means of engaging with the world, a tool to express that which lies beyond the reach of words alone. Nurture your inner child, and allow that sense of play and exploration to guide you as you grow, understanding that true artistry lies in evolving these impulses, transforming them into something that speaks to the truth of the human experience. Poetry, far from being a childish indulgence, is a vital force—one that we should never abandon but carry with us, growing in understanding and expression throughout our lives.
Ttrthtt
The quote makes me wonder whether the author’s relationship with poetry reflects a broader commentary on childhood passions. Is he suggesting that some creative habits are outgrown, or is this simply a humorous exaggeration? I also question whether calling poetry a ‘habit’ diminishes its value or highlights the addictive nature of creative expression. Could it be that the playful tone is meant to challenge our expectations of what serious engagement with art should look like?
GHPham Gia Han
I find the phrasing intriguing because it labels poetry as a ‘nasty habit.’ Does this suggest guilt, embarrassment, or just irony? Could it be that for the author, poetry was once a compulsive or overly indulgent activity, and he’s proud to have moved beyond it? This also raises questions about how creative impulses evolve over a lifetime—are we ever truly free of them, or do they merely transform into new expressions as we age?
TDHuynh thi thuy duyen
Reading this makes me reflect on the societal perception of poetry as a serious art form versus a whimsical pastime. Is the author challenging the notion that poetry must be revered, implying that it can also be lighthearted or even absurd? I also wonder if he truly believes he has left poetry behind, or if this is more of a metaphorical statement about personal growth and moving away from youthful habits and obsessions.
BThoang bich tra
I’m curious about the tension between the negative tone and the act of writing poetry itself. Could the author be poking fun at the seriousness with which people treat poetry, suggesting that it was once an indulgence or obsession that is now tempered? Does this perspective resonate with other readers who once wrote poetry as children but abandoned it, or is this view unique to his personality and style?
NHNguyen Ngoc Hoa
This statement struck me as humorously self-deprecating, but it also makes me question how the author views poetry. Is he implying that poetry is frivolous or childish, or is this simply a playful way of acknowledging a past habit? I wonder if the idea of ‘growing out’ of poetry suggests that creativity is something to be abandoned with age, or if it’s just a witty reflection on changing personal priorities over time.