To a poet the mere making of a poem can seem to solve the
To a poet the mere making of a poem can seem to solve the problem of truth, but only a problem of art is solved in poetry.
“To a poet the mere making of a poem can seem to solve the problem of truth, but only a problem of art is solved in poetry.” So spoke Laura Riding, who stripped poetry of its illusions and sought the naked clarity of meaning itself. Her words remind us that the act of creation, however luminous, is not the same as the grasping of truth. A poem may dazzle, it may soothe, it may appear to answer the cry of the heart, but what it truly resolves is the shape of art—not the eternal riddle of existence.
The meaning of this saying lies in the distinction between truth and art. The poet, when seized by inspiration, feels as if they have uncovered a secret of the universe. Yet, what has been resolved is not the mystery of life, but the ordering of words, the harmony of rhythm, the beauty of expression. This is no small thing, but it is not everything. Riding warns us against confusing the radiance of artistic success with the deeper illumination of truth. Art consoles, but it cannot fully unveil reality.
Consider the fate of Percy Bysshe Shelley, who believed his poetry to be a torchbearer of ultimate truth. His odes and visions sought to unlock the very soul of the world, and for a time, he believed he had succeeded. Yet history shows that what endured were not revelations of cosmic certainty, but the immortal music of his lines. His art lived on, but the truths he claimed were fleeting, challenged and reshaped by later thinkers. Riding’s wisdom stands here confirmed: art survives as art, but truth demands a path beyond the poem.
The origin of Riding’s insight is found in her own struggle with poetry. Once hailed as a great voice of her age, she abandoned verse, declaring that poetry could not ultimately bear the burden of truth. For her, poetry could refine language, sharpen vision, and give form to thought—but it could not answer the eternal questions: What is real? What is good? What end should we live for? These belonged to philosophy, to faith, to the unflinching pursuit of truth beyond form. She exposed the temptation of poets to mistake the glow of creation for the light of revelation.
This teaching does not diminish poetry—it ennobles it. For to know the limits of a craft is to honor its true power. Poetry is not truth itself, but a mirror, a vessel, a gesture toward the ineffable. It can prepare the soul for truth, awaken longing for it, and point to it with beauty. But the responsibility of the seeker is to move beyond the satisfaction of the art, and to continue the harder work of discerning what truly is.
The lesson for us is profound: we must not mistake expression for resolution. To write a journal, to sing a song, to paint a picture—these may feel like solving life’s problems, but they are only the solving of artistic problems. The deeper questions remain. Do not stop at the comfort of having spoken; continue to wrestle with the truth itself. Let your art be a companion to your seeking, not a substitute for it.
Practically, this means: create, but also question. When you have written or spoken something beautiful, do not assume the work is done. Ask yourself: what truth still lies beyond these words? What have I named, and what remains nameless? Read not only poems, but also philosophy and history, listen to the wisdom of experience, and search with humility. Use art as a lantern, but remember it lights only a portion of the path.
Thus the teaching endures: to craft a poem is to solve a problem of art; to seek truth is to live a life of continual questioning. Honor both pursuits, but do not confuse them. For art makes life beautiful, but truth makes life meaningful. And the one who pursues both with courage will leave behind not only verses, but wisdom that shines beyond the reach of words.
YLBao Yen Le
I find this quote fascinating because it challenges the common assumption that poetry reveals ultimate truths. Could it be that the very act of making a poem addresses technical, structural, and aesthetic problems, and that any perceived illumination of truth is incidental or interpretive? How might this perspective influence the way we teach or critique poetry, emphasizing craft and expression over philosophical or factual conclusions, and fostering a deeper appreciation for the artistry itself?
LVTran Le Vy
This perspective makes me think about the role of intention in writing poetry. Could Riding be suggesting that the poet’s sense of achieving truth is inherently self-referential, reflecting mastery over language and form rather than reality itself? I also wonder whether this creates a tension between the poet’s internal satisfaction and the reader’s desire for meaning. Does art then serve more as a personal resolution than as a guide for understanding the world objectively?
H8Hung 8B亗
From a reader’s perspective, this statement raises questions about expectations in literature. Do we, as audiences, often seek answers in poetry that it cannot provide, expecting moral, philosophical, or empirical truth? How might this awareness shift the way we engage with poems—focusing on craftsmanship, emotional depth, and linguistic innovation rather than ultimate knowledge? I also wonder whether the distinction between art and truth applies similarly across other art forms, like painting or music.
HNha nguyen
I’m intrigued by the idea that the creation of a poem might feel like solving a problem of truth. Does this mean that poetry provides a subjective or symbolic understanding of the world, rather than factual or absolute answers? I also question whether this tension between art and truth is what gives poetry its power and mystery. Could acknowledging this limitation change how poets and readers measure the success or impact of a poem?
VMPham van minh
This quote makes me reflect on the distinction between artistic creation and the pursuit of truth. Is Riding suggesting that poetry, no matter how profound, cannot fully capture objective reality, and instead only addresses aesthetic or structural challenges? I wonder whether poets risk conflating personal insight or emotional resonance with universal truth. Could this perspective help readers approach poetry with both appreciation and critical awareness, understanding that art solves problems of form, not ultimate reality?