Exploring poetic forms
Since creating this blog and embarking upon this chapter of my life journey nearly one year ago, I have taken to experimenting with various forms of poetry.
From the first, I had no intention of becoming a poetry blogger. I only wanted to create a personal website on which to host my blog series about my year of mourning for my Papa, which had originally been published on the Times of Israel.
But then I wrote a poem in Papa’s memory; that was a spontaneous decision… I think I was feeling that my ‘kaddish’ blog needed a cover page ~ and a poem seemed suitable. I hadn’t written any poetry for some two decades before that.
Long story short, that first poem whet my appetite for creative writing (especially poetry), and I found other poet-bloggers on WordPress, which, in turn, led me to the d’Verse poets’ community (specifically through Dwight’s blog). By way of d’Verse and other writers, I was gradually introduced to forms of poetry that I had never heard of or imagined.
What fun!
An unexpected insight
Living according to Jewish tradition
I am a Jew, and I am very invested in [exploring] my Jewish identity. This comes across in my poetry and prose all the time. Heck, my blog is named for one of the most universally known Jewish prayers.
So I suppose it was just a matter of time before I made the connection between forms of poetry and forms of living ~ namely, traditions.
It’s important, for the purposes of this blog post, to understand that traditional Judaism is very ritualistic. We have traditions for putting on our shoes, eating, using the bathroom, sleeping, making love, etc., etc.; you name it.
Now, I would say that the majority of people who strive to live their lives according to all of these religious strictures believe that this is what God wants of them. At the very least, this is certainly the official party line; it is what one hears declared from Orthodox pulpits all across the world.
But for those of us who don’t believe “God said so” (or – “men said so on behalf of God”) there is rather a problem. Many traditions are, at best, simply meaningless in and of themselves. If I (we?) want to consistently follow ancient traditions without becoming deeply unhappy, I (we?) must find other, personally meaningful reasons to do so.
The inspiration of limitations
I’ve been thinking quite a lot about what it is that draws me to these many forms of poetry. Why not simply write free verse poetry, as so many others do?
For one thing, there’s an element of curiosity for me in my poetry adventure. After all, these sundry forms were developed by brilliant poets around the world, throughout the ages – who am I to dismiss them out of hand? Also, I’m constantly wondering – how do these many differing forms affect the intending meanings of my words?
Beyond that, I would like to develop my classic poetry skills before letting loose with my own style. Picasso, for example, didn’t create cubism until he had mastered classical painting.
However, above and beyond any of the above reasons, I would say that I find these endless poetic forms fascinating and even inspiring. I come up with images and ideas for poems that arise from the forms themselves – the struggle against the limitations they impose upon me births pieces that I never would have imagined, let alone imagined coming from my mind.
And this has led me to think… could the strictures of [Jewish] tradition also inspire one to live a more creative, more fruitful life?
The limits of limitations
To an extent, I think there is truth in my insight, but there is a clear “flaw” in it as well, from the perspective of a [Jewish] traditionalist.
The “flaw” is this – my fruitful excitement at exploring poetic forms is not only a product of the forms themselves – it is no less a product of my search for forms that suit my shifting moods and thoughts. I could not honestly say that any one poetic form best suits me.
Of course, a committed traditionalist would probably argue that there are many different traditional paths within Judaism, and they would be correct in their assertion… but my counterargument would be just as sound: there are many more traditional paths outside of Judaism than within it, the vast majority of which I have never explored.
That said, the greatest caveat to this counterargument would be my mortality – at the end of the day, I must decide how live life based upon inherently finite experiences, just as we all must.
So… to what extent should I embrace the forms of life that I was born into?
Addendum: Some words of wisdom
By coincidence, I just came across the following video on Lesley’s blog; and it’s the perfect bookend to this blog post of mine:
The Skeptic's Kaddish 🇮🇱 
I looked up matzah brie and found this https://themom100.com/recipe/matzoh-brei/
Reena, Here’s my recipe if you’re curious –
Thanks for sharing! I was curious about what is matzah.
Our ‘rotis’ puff up on the flame made with unleavened dough, and cooks take pride in serving those hot 🙂
today’s matzah is almost always dry and crispy (the way Jews in Europe make it), but, if you’re curious about such things, there used to be a soft form of matzah that was made in the Middle East and Africa –
https://www.myjewishlearning.com/the-nosher/story-behind-soft-matzah-passover/
🙂
David
Thanks a ton!
😊
well said, and a lot of food for thought; I don’t think I read this before. Thank you.
💜 Barbara 💜
So true, and they create a link to something deeper, which is, maybe, what is behind all traditions. Not the specific form, but the practice. Hence my honouring of your traditions as I honour mine without the need to adopt or immerse myself in others.
Rituals open a veil to the immense.
Thank you for stirring my thoughts, as always. Tricia
Wouldn’t the world be lovely if we all would honor one another’s traditions?
❤ Tricia ❤ ~ thank you for your sensitive comment.
Yours,
David
Oh yes! And our own! 💗
Wisely, wisely said, Tricia!
Thanks for sharing the post David.
❤ Lokesh ❤
Fascinating concept, David. I’d like to discuss ‘Jewish traditionalism’ further, but my laptop has fallen ill and is at the computer doctor’s being treating. I am sporadically using my husband’s PC and right now he needs to work, so I am off.
Shabbat Shalom!
Air hugs,
D
Dolly, your insights are worth the wait ❤
Shavua tov,
David
Shavuah Tov, David, and thank you for a vote of confidence.
My son and the kids are here, so I got temporary access to my son’s tablet. I am just answering comments for now.
Hugs,
D
I learned early on as a designer that limits are your friend. I’m sure that applies to life as well. My objection to religious limits is that most religions wish to impose their beliefs and limitations on everyone, not just themselves. And they are pretty inflexible. When a design limitation doesn’t work for what you are trying to do you look for some other way to solve the problem. Its a framework, not a straight jacket. (K)
I share your difficulty with this, Kerfe.
❤
David
[…] of poetry from The skeptics kaddish, I was inspired by his own modest account, in his in his recent post. Thanks […]
Good job, Darius 😀
I think there’s a lot to what you said about the strictures of Jewish tradition potentially inspiring a more fruitful and creative life. For me, the structure and traditions are part of the appeal – not even necessarily what they are, but just the fact that they exist. Living a life with virtually zero rules and boundaries sounds appealing at first glance, but it can be stifling in its own way – I can choose anything, but it’s all so overwhelming that I choose nothing.
EIF, I agree with you… although that doesn’t answer the question (as I know you know it doesn’t) of which boundaries to impose upon one’s self.
❤
David
Indeed. That’s the hard part.
Traditions – old and new can inform our actions and spur us to new activity. I love the structure of poetry forms as well as that of religions. I believe you are on to something. Humans do best with boundaries and whether they are internal or externally imposed can make all the difference. Have you explored the Kimo poetry form?
Muri, I have not – but you know I will now!
❤
David