The intention of the author and the meaning of it gleaned from the reader can reach congruence.

At the same time as you rightly pointed out new meaning can be added depending on the readers previous experience or preconception.

The same pretty much applies to most forms of artistic expression

It seems, at the very least, that poetic meaning is open — Moliere

:up: :100:

Poems are an artistic representation of ourselves through words. I enjoyed reading the poem of the picture of your OP. I interpret it as the beautiful essence of a normal day. Where everything happens as is used to be. Fortunately, there is nothing what can disturb our serene day.

Verses make different emotions on people. I am against all of those who are rigid towards interpreting a poem. There isn’t anyone clever than other in terms of experiencing poetry. I want share another poem with you:

[He] said:
“the sea used to come here”
And and [he] put more wood on the fire. Ozaki Hōsai.

This haiku poem gives me nostalgia because the author is missing something that is no longer with him: the sea.

Let me write a poem about the sea and feedback your interpretation of it:

Here goes nothing says the sea as splashes crashes against the siren.

The mermaid utters this cannot be for if I was a man
I’d destroy the boat the ship and land on the moat.

The sailor by boat reaching to wide casts his net for the final time though the boat bursting at seams finally gives way and now all the fish despite being dead give sharks something deeper than ocean can contemplate

It brings something not in the poem, explicitly, to make sense of what is explicitly there. — Moliere

It brings it, but where was it, what did we put it in, and how was it transported? How can something be "in" the poem when the poem is sounds? How do we "make" sense? Do we build it?

You seem to be speaking in metaphor, comparing abstract thoughts to physical objects and the movement of tangible things.

I see what you're saying, but not really visually as seeing would entail.

My point is that all is metaphor and poetry.

So, while I don't think there are going to be a set of rules for this kind of meaning -- I wonder, what's up with poetic meaning? — Moliere

Would it not also follow that different types of poems work differently?

An aspect of poetry is the concentrated, careful word selection to intensify meaning. They also have to sound good when read aloud. I think it was jounro-poet Clive James who said if a poem doesn't captivate when heard, it will collapse and not be remembered. Or something like that.

In one sense an interpretation of a poem will set out what it means, why it's significant, the feelings that might arise, — Moliere

I've come to see that art, including poetry, doesn't mean anything beyond the audience's experience in seeing, reading, or hearing it. Art is an artists way of expressing an experience which makes it possible for them to share it with others.

Is this poem not a more verbose way of saying:

"No news is good news"

I would have said a more poetic way, but I find the above proverb poetic in it's own right.

I read it more as a plaintive cry for calm and a veneration of the quotidian. Although, with the passing of time, the Murder She Wrote reference becomes more about nostalgia or a remembrance of simpler times.

Certainly, and given the title of the poem, I think that is what the author intended as well.

Mind you, the beauty of "No news is good news" is it can be interpreted in that way as well!

I am against all of those who are rigid towards interpreting a poem. There isn’t anyone clever than other in terms of experiencing poetry. — javi2541997

I agree. I will note that I actually aesthetically enjoy rigid readings of poems, in the sense of applying some kind of aesthetic criterion(s) to interpretation -- but not when they're dogmatic. That seems anti-poetic, to me.

I want share another poem with you:

[He] said:
“the sea used to come here”
And and [he] put more wood on the fire. Ozaki Hōsai.

This haiku poem gives me nostalgia because the author is missing something that is no longer with him: the sea. — javi2541997

I love haiku. I read a small book that introduced me to how to read haiku and two of the features of haiku that I remember are there were fixed symbols with meanings (I forget which symbols were what, but I remember the kingfisher was one symbol with a few meanings that were fixed to it), but for the whole genre rather than by author. This allowed people to play with those as a kind of agreed upon beginning to make their own variations. So while poetry doesn't have to have conventions, it does have conventional meanings too.

The other thing I remember from that book was that haiku was meant more for friends, rather than high art. So you wrote haiku to share among family or in letters and such, to express feelings in the moment. This is how I relate to poetry, so I thought that was neat. (It's also how I get along with philosophy, for the most part: it's a social activity more than an institutional one, for me)

It brings it, but where was it, what did we put it in, and how was it transported? How can something be "in" the poem when the poem is sounds? How do we "make" sense? Do we build it?

You seem to be speaking in metaphor, comparing abstract thoughts to physical objects and the movement of tangible things.

I see what you're saying, but not really visually as seeing would entail.

My point is that all is metaphor and poetry. — Hanover

This is good.

I want to begin with this notion that all is metaphor and poetry -- itself a metaphor! :D

Now, in reference to truth-conditions, I think that metaphor would be seen as parasitic upon the world, as you read me in the above -- "in" meaning a cabinet rather than a sentence. And metaphoric meaning does exactly this! It's poly-amorous.

I wonder, though, to take a line from Kant, just because we begin with truth-conditions in our thinking about meaning doesn't mean that meaning starts with truth-conditions. I think it could at least be made coherent that we begin with, as you say, metaphor and poetry and, from that, craft truth-conditions.

(Side note: I don't think that either case would count for/against anti/realism -- i.e., as usual, I'm putting that to the side, insofar that we can believe that's an innocent maneuver, at least)

**

I was tempted, though, to also directly answer your question with Shakespeare -- famous wordsmith. My guess is he was actually listening to the vernacular at the time and recording it, with a few poetic flares thrown in for art. But those poetic flares are, I'd say, one source of how we craft meaning. We have a poem with a rhythm-rhyme scheme, and we need it to rhyme -- so we craft a new word that fits phonetically, but has a new meaning.

Now, that's one way we do this. And I'd posit that the process is, from "our side" of phenomonology, more or less ex nihilo -- we are the Gods of the meaning-verse, creating its meaning as an intellectual intuition would a world. (But, being a good naturalist, I do suspect there's an underlying explanation, if we wish to look)

Would it not also follow that different types of poems work differently? — Tom Storm

Absolutely! In fact, that's part of what's interesting to me about poetry -- something as simple as a rhythm-rhyme scheme can evoke emotion, thought, and action all at once.

An aspect of poetry is the concentrated, careful word selection to intensify meaning. They also have to sound good when read aloud. I think it was jounro-poet Clive James who said if a poem doesn't captivate when heard, it will collapse and not be remembered. Or something like that.

I agree with this aesthetic direction, on the whole. I love poems written in the phonic script, and usually write my own that way. But sometimes I've come across poems that manage to establish another aesthetic. The Psalms is a good example of this kind of poetry -- it's considered to be written in ideas which are either repeated, contrasted, or act as a kind of resolution. The poems are separate and yet not separate too, and can be grouped by genre even within the Psalms to give an added dimension of interpretation.

I've come to see that art, including poetry, doesn't mean anything beyond the audience's experience in seeing, reading, or hearing it. Art is an artists way of expressing an experience which makes it possible for them to share it with others. — T Clark

I agree with this, too. This whole approach is why both poetry and theatre are of philosophic interest to me (they also happen to be interesting unto themselves to me, too :D -- else I wouldn't have the sustained interest to continue gathering examples) -- they necessitate dialogue, an other, a community, a group. The poem comes alive in the collective witnessing of the poem -- before that, it's just a script.

Truth is

I've come to see that art, including poetry, doesn't mean anything beyond the audience's experience in seeing, reading, or hearing it. Art is an artists way of expressing an experience which makes it possible for them to share it with others. — T Clark

What distinguishes an artistic expression from your expression quoted above? What would a non-artistic expression be? If there is no distinction, then all is art.

What distinguishes an artistic expression from your expression quoted above? What would a non-artistic expression be? If there is no distinction, then all is art. — Hanover

I don't consider myself a very artistic person. I've done a little fiction and poetry writing. I enjoy the process and I like some of the results, but it's not really my thing. I don't draw or paint, but I sometimes think in very vivid imagery. For me, that kind of thinking is exhilarating. I have had the thought that the distinction between art and non-art communication is artificial. All of it is about taking something from my mind and putting it in yours. But that's not a very interesting argument to make and I think there are some important distinctions.

I guess the difference for me is that non-fiction, including the kind of stuff here on the forum, is about sharing knowledge, ideas, or skills. With art, it's about sharing the actual direct non-verbal experience. As I said, the argument can be made that is an artificial distinction.

My point is that all is metaphor and poetry. — Hanover

In “Surfaces and Essences: Analogy as the Fuel and Fire of Thinking” Douglas Hofstadter claims that all human thought is analogical. I've read similar views in other places too.

I wonder, though, to take a line from Kant, just because we begin with truth-conditions in our thinking about meaning doesn't mean that meaning starts with truth-conditions. I think it could at least be made coherent that we begin with, as you say, metaphor and poetry and, from that, craft truth-conditions. — Moliere

To continue in the Kantian line of thinking, truth would be noumenal, so it would be unknowable. Applying this to statements, the best we can say of statements is the best we can say of perceptions, and that is that they belong to us, are our interpretations, and are influenced by who we are. We see the cat, but whether it is as it appears to us is the unknowable. When we speak of the cat, we speak in terms of our other phenomena and compare, analogize, and use as metaphor what we interpret. It's all a matter of interpretation, which is consistent with an indirect realist view of the world.

The direct realist states the cat is just what the cat appears to be. I find that equivalent to the literalist who says the sentence says just what the words say it says.

The indirect realist states the cat is whatever it is, mediated by the person's perceptions and sensory faculties. I find that equivalent to the non-literalist who says the sentence is an interpretative description influenced by worldview and comparative analysis to other perceptions.

In “Surfaces and Essences: Analogy as the Fuel and Fire of Thinking” Douglas Hofstadter claims that all human thought is analogical. I've read similar views in other places too. — T Clark

And, if accepted, it would make your distinction between art and reality, as you've acknowledged, ultimately artificial. When you draw me a picture of your room, sketching out lines and dimensions, that is as much interpretative as an elaborate oil painting of your room. That is the consequence of not starting with a set reality, but instead starting with only a subjective perception of reality.

I agree with this, too. — Moliere

Oh... I thought we were disagreeing.

they necessitate dialogue, an other, a community, a group. The poem comes alive in the collective witnessing of the poem — Moliere

I agree with this. There are worthwhile things to say about poetry, but I don't think meaning is one of them except in the fairly trivial sense of knowing what the poet is referring to. Example - In "Wild Grapes" by Robert Frost, it's good to know that "Leif the Lucky's German" refers to Leif Erickson's German foster father.

I like to talk about what I experience when I read a poem. As I see it, that's different from it's meaning. From my point of view, most of the poem interpretations I've read are baloney. I do also like to talk about technical aspects of the poem - meter, rhyme, metaphor - and how they help me share the poet's experience. I don't think that's the same thing as meaning either.

I pulled the following from Brian Bilston's Laboetry: — Moliere

Thanks for the introduction. Most enjoyable :up:

It seems, at the very least, that poetic meaning is open -- there's no problem with having multiple interpretations, in fact that's what you'd expect. — Moliere

Indeed. Brian is sharing his feelings and hits the nail on the head. We get it, immediately.

Although, with the passing of time, the Murder She Wrote reference becomes more about nostalgia or a remembrance of simpler times. — Tom Storm

I laughed at that bit. I binge-watched Murder She Wrote for a while as a way to mindlessness.
With Brian's 'consumption of wine', it conjures up a cosy, warm, numbing.
Currently, watching American slushy Christmassy films for the same reason!
What's with all the cookies?

The rhythm of the first two lines in each verse reminds me of something heard before.
Possibly a pop song or an advert...
Something along the lines of 'This is not just food. This is M&S food'.
No, it's a jingly kind of pop.
Ah, got it!
The Bangles...
It's just another manic Monday (Woah, woah)
I wish it was Sunday (Woah, woah)
'Cause that's my fun day (Woah, woah, woah, woah)
My I don't have to run day (Woah, woah)
It's just another manic Monday

To continue in the Kantian line of thinking, truth would be noumenal, so it would be unknowable. — Hanover

Only if we wanted it to be noumenal, though. If we wanted it to be phenomenal, then as the Gods of the meaning-verse we could make it phenomenal, and then truth would just be about empirical reality as opposed to the questions which reason posits and wants answers to but would require a different sort of mind to be able to answer in the mode of scientific knowledge.

Applying this to statements, the best we can say of statements is the best we can say of perceptions, and that is that they belong to us, are our interpretations, and are influenced by who we are. We see the cat, but whether it is as it appears to us is the unknowable. When we speak of the cat, we speak in terms of our other phenomena and compare, analogize, and use as metaphor what we interpret. It's all a matter of interpretation, which is consistent with an indirect realist view of the world.

The direct realist states the cat is just what the cat appears to be. I find that equivalent to the literalist who says the sentence says just what the words say it says.

The indirect realist states the cat is whatever it is, mediated by the person's perceptions and sensory faculties. I find that equivalent to the non-literalist who says the sentence is an interpretative description influenced by worldview and comparative analysis to other perceptions. — Hanover

Here I think we're diving too deep into literal meaning rather than poetic meaning -- the idea here being possibly shaking up the conversation on the usual delineations, since there's no reasonable way to determine which is better or worse. So I think I'd prefer to say, for an anti-realist, what you say is about right, but a realist would take this line of thinking and still commit to there being a cat on the mat, it being real, and all that.

On either way, though, we can make a distinction between the poetic and the literal, right? Here we are, right now, where meaning has already been bootstrapped to our capacities -- and so with our ability to make the intelligible ex nihilo, we make a distinction between different uses of language, one of which is in the modality of truth-telling, and one of which is in the modality of metaphor.

I'm thinking, given the notion of metaphor as a relationship between named entities, that this actually has something to do with substitution. The phonetic "Chair" stands for a chair I'm sitting on. In a way it is the most basic metaphor -- to treat a sound as a differentiated object of meaning.

This "switching out" between metaphorical pairs sounds a lot like correspondence, at least.

But this is hand-wavey. I think there's more to say about how poetry works before being able to tie metaphor to truth-conditions. Probably won't get that far in this thread, because making a reduction of truth to metaphor sounds like a titanic project :D -- but it is the kind of notion that I'm playing with in the background of my thoughts, at least.

Oh... I thought we were disagreeing. — T Clark

Well, we're not!

So there!

:D

I did focus on the relationship angle of your post. It's in the relationship that I think meaning comes about, from the call-and-response of a speaker and an audience which flips back and forth.

Here I think you're right we disagree:

I agree with this. There are worthwhile things to say about poetry, but I don't think meaning is one of them except in the fairly trivial sense of knowing what the poet is referring to. Example - In "Wild Grapes" by Robert Frost, it's good to know that "Leif the Lucky's German" refers to Leif Erickson's German foster father.

I like to talk about what I experience when I read a poem. As I see it, that's different from it's meaning. From my point of view, most of the poem interpretations I've read are baloney. I do also like to talk about technical aspects of the poem - meter, rhyme, metaphor - and how they help me share the poet's experience. I don't think that's the same thing as meaning either. — T Clark

So you would claim that "poetic meaning" in reference to "meaning" is more or less an equivocation, that these are actually separate things. Do I have you right?

That is fine by me, because I'm also actually interested in the aesthetics of poetry unto itself -- and actually put this in aesthetics with the idea of exploring that more than the usual reductions, with the idea of it generating more shared thoughts to build from.

And, even more than that, while I have this odd suspicion, it is just an odd suspicion. And it's a lot easier to talk about how poems work and how it is they mean or what it is they mean.

Thanks for the introduction. Most enjoyable :up: — Amity

Of course! He's tons of fun.

The rhythm of the first two lines in each verse reminds me of something heard before.
Possibly a pop song or an advert...
Something along the lines of 'This is not just food. This is M&S food'.
No, it's a jingly kind of pop.
Ah, got it!
The Bangles... — Amity

Hah! I didn't pick up on that, but I see it!

I meant to mention the title: 'The Serenity Prayer'. The original version I love ( minus the God reference).
Used in AA meetings, I believe. Perhaps, Brian and others, like myself, have been addicted to the news and now it's become painfully overwhelming. We need a break. A retreat.
I will copy this poem and, hopefully, memorise it.
I think that is the beauty of a short poem, like this. It can act as a mantra.

Oh... I thought we were disagreeing.
— T Clark

Well, we're not!

So there! — Moliere

Well, good. I guess. But then when I read your ideas it does seem like we're disagreeing.

So you would claim that "poetic meaning" in reference to "meaning" is more or less an equivocation, that these are actually separate things. Do I have you right?

That is fine by me, because I'm also actually interested in the aesthetics of poetry unto itself -- and actually put this in aesthetics with the idea of exploring that more than the usual reductions, with the idea of it generating more shared thoughts to build from.

And, even more than that, while I have this odd suspicion, it is just an odd suspicion. And it's a lot easier to talk about how poems work and how it is they mean or what it is they mean. — Moliere

I'm confused. You keep talking about poetic meaning, but I said poems, art in general, don't mean anything. How can we be agreeing.

And, if accepted, it would make your distinction between art and reality, as you've acknowledged, ultimately artificial. — Hanover

Maybe I've misunderstood. I wasn't discussing the distinction between art and reality. I was talking about the distinction between fictional, poetic, or artistic communication on the one hand and purely descriptive, technical, or explanatory communication on the other.

I'm confused. You keep talking about poetic meaning, but I said poems, art in general, don't mean anything. How can we be agreeing — T Clark

Well, that's entirely my fault, looking back. Let me try again, straight faced --

I think when you say:

I've come to see that art, including poetry, doesn't mean anything beyond the audience's experience in seeing, reading, or hearing it. Art is an artists way of expressing an experience which makes it possible for them to share it with others. — T Clark

I took that to mean "a poems meaning is an audience's experience in perceiving the poem",

rather than

"poetry has no meaning. what poetry is is an audience's experience in perceiving the poem"

So I was reading you as restricting poetic meaning to the experience, rather than making a distinction between meaning and experience.

So in my first and mistaken reading of you, I would say elucidation of poetry would require more poetry, as has been offered. And I didn't make the connection to the Serenity Prayer @Amity -- good catch!

I looked it up for a read to compare, and apparently there's different versions. So, in a way -- rather than a rift, this is more like variations on a theme. From ye olde wiki, though, just for a side-by-side:

God, give me grace to accept with serenity
the things that cannot be changed,
Courage to change the things
which should be changed,
and the Wisdom to distinguish
the one from the other.

Living one day at a time,
Enjoying one moment at a time,
Accepting hardship as a pathway to peace,
Taking, as Jesus did,
This sinful world as it is,
Not as I would have it,
Trusting that You will make all things right,
If I surrender to Your will,
So that I may be reasonably happy in this life,
And supremely happy with You forever in the next.

Reading it aloud, definitely makes me feel the "giggliness" of the Limerick form, though, in comparison.

So I was reading you as restricting poetic meaning to the experience, rather than making a distinction between meaning and experience. — Moliere

You're right. In discussions like this, sometimes I say "art has no meaning" and sometimes I say "art has no meaning beyond the audience's experience." Those are similar but different statements, but I mixed them all up together in my posts here.

Ahh, OK. Cool. Easy to do. "Meaning" is notoriously slippery -- I wouldn't be surprised if we make the same mistake down the line.

This is a bit of a cheat, but I want to repost something I wrote about a year ago in the "Metaphysics of Poetry" discussion. This is my attempt to give my idea of a description of the experience of reading a poem.

I think that poetry doesn’t mean anything beyond the experience of reading it or listening to it. As an illustration, I’ll provide a description of my experience of a poem I really like. “Dust of Snow,” as always, Robert Frost.

The way a crow
Shook down on me
The dust of snow
From a hemlock tree

Has given my heart
A change of mood
And saved some part
Of a day I had rued.

I really like this poem. First off - it’s really short. It was easy to memorize and when I quote it, people think I’m erudite. I tried to memorize “Two Tramps in Mud Time” once - nine stanzas, 72 lines. That didn’t turn out well. Also, it’s funny and Frost uses one of my favorite animals, no surprise, a crow. Not everyone sees the humor in the poem and I get that. I don’t know how idiosyncratic my reading is.

First stanza. Light, amusing. Very visual. I can see the man walking through the woods after a snow. That’s something that happens regularly in Frost poems. The snow is deep. He’s wearing boots. I can see the tree with the crow sitting at the top. Hemlocks are dark green with short needles ranked on many short branchlets. If that's a word. I’ve seen crows in the tops of trees plenty of times. Sometimes one, sometimes five, sometimes more. They’re usually noisy. Rambunctious. Very social. They’re really smart. It was clear to me the first time I read this poem that the crow shook the snow down on the man on purpose. That image always makes me smile. Having snow fall down on me from a tree branch has happened to me plenty of times. I can feel it going down my neck. Annoying.

Second stanza - More serious. Darker. It also makes me look back at the first stanza and think more about it. It seems like something has happened that the man regrets. So, he feels unhappy, sad, maybe guilty. It’s later in the day. Maybe he’s walking home afterwards or maybe he’s walking in the woods to think things over, brood, head down, not paying attention to where he’s going. And then the crow. He looks up. He sees the crow. He can see the crow looking down at him. He smiles. Maybe he laughs a little.

Why does this change his mood. I can think of a couple of reasons. First, it makes him break out of his introspection and look around at the day, the woods. That’s happened to me plenty of times. You just shake your head and get on with things. There’s another way to think about it that I really like. I like to think that at the moment the crow and the man are looking at each other, there’s a recognition. The crow made a joke. They both know it’s funny. Maybe the crow would cackle a little. I guess not. Frost would have mentioned that. The crow should have cackled. It’s hard to brood when your dignity has been tweaked. When someone has seen you for what you are.

As I said, this is not what the poem means. It is how it makes me feel. What it makes me see, think, feel. I don't expect anyone else to get the same things as I did or see it the same way.

Not a cheat at all. That's exactly the sort of thing I'm looking for -- more poems and people's reactions to them.

And it was lovely to read. I wouldn't have found all that in the poem, which is why it's great to share.

I think I did find the basic experience you described -- the experience of being awoken from a gloomy day-dream. That clicked for me. And then upon reading what you shared I could see how the bird was playing a kind of joke -- and to set up a contrast between that joke and the sadness of gloomy daydreams. I liked you highlighting that for me because I could see it there on a second reading when I didn't on the first.

On either way, though, we can make a distinction between the poetic and the literal, right? — Moliere

Depends on what you mean by "poetic". I just improvised a four line poem with no metaphors in it whatsoever:

I bought a cat today
She came to me to play
And play we did and it was fun
She went away when she was done

So what's the poems poetic meaning as opposed to its literal meaning? Since I didn't have anything in mind but just to assemble lines without figurative meaning in them, I didn't make a figurative meaning for the poem as a whole, either. Which is to say I didn't put it in consciously. If I look at the lines I notice that the poet's initiative opens the poem, the cat's initiative continues the poem, then there's joint activity, and the cat's initiative ends the poem. Then there are cultural associations with "bought" that might have implications on agency (you buy a human, it's slavery - you buy a pet, it's...?). And I can go on like that, and get some sort of gestalt of the poem in my mind as a result. But that just leaves... stuff unsaid, implied. In what way is this different from being literal? Couldn't I pretend any old literal text is a poem and give it that sort of questioning?

What makes the above seem like a poem in the first place is: linebreaks, no punctuiation, rhythm and rhyme. Formal language characteristics not primarily about meaning. So what if "poetic meaning" is dependent on what you do with a text once you decide it's a poem, and not on what's actually in the text? Savouring rather than resolving ambiguity, for examples, might be one of the things that gives rise to "poetic meaning". In such a context, what would "literal" mean?

The phonetic "Chair" stands for a chair I'm sitting on. In a way it is the most basic metaphor -- to treat a sound as a differentiated object of meaning. — Moliere

No, mere substitution doesn't make a metaphor. Metaphor implies a comparison between two things. But the sound or written body of "chair" doesn't have anything to do with the thing, other than marking the concept. It's, as linguists say, an arbitrary symbol.

So what's the poems poetic meaning as opposed to its literal meaning? — Dawnstorm

The literal meaning is, reducing the poem to P

"P" is false

The poetic meaning --

in the context of the thread the poem is clearly about the superfluous nature of poetic meaning, how it's an amorphous concept and so it depends upon what we mean when we mean poetic meaning.


Did you buy a cat today?

No, mere substitution doesn't make a metaphor — Dawnstorm

I think I'd say substitution is more complicated than metaphor and that synonymy is more basic, at least to keep the partisan dialectic going -- but I wouldn't define metaphor like you do. In fact, I wouldn't define it at all. I'm willing to accept whatever comes from our use of "metaphor". (So, in this case, substitution is out -- good by me, as I think it's more complicated anyway)

I think I did find the basic experience you described -- the experience of being awoken from a gloomy day-dream. That clicked for me. And then upon reading what you shared I could see how the bird was playing a kind of joke -- and to set up a contrast between that joke and the sadness of gloomy daydreams. I liked you highlighting that for me because I could see it there on a second reading when I didn't on the first. — Moliere

Keeping in mind that this is my idiosyncratic experience. I think other people would get different feelings.