Yup, definitely.

In a way I can think of your restriction on poems as rule 1 -- whatever we might, down the line, generalize for the purposes of aesthetic philosophy, rule 1 trumps all theorizing. The original experience of poetry is the reason we might be wondering these things in the first place, so it'd be silly if we ruled out other readings when that's exactly where we actually begin.

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

What makes the above seem like a poem in the first place is: linebreaks, no punctuiation, rhythm and rhyme. — Dawnstorm

I like the poem. It's simple, descriptive. Maybe a little sad. When I read it, I wanted to do this. Forgive me.

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.

The monotonous repetition of short declarative statements, the choppiness, changes the tone for me. Maybe less sad and more resigned.

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? — Moliere

I'm not sure I can follow what you're saying.

No, I didn't buy a cat today, and it follows that none of the other lines are true either. Is that what you mean by "'P' is false"? If so, yes "P" is false. If not, what are you saying isntead?

I'm not sure why a paragraph of contextual meaning is sandwhiched between two references to truth. As you probably guessed, I didn't buy cat today. I don't quite see why this important. If I did, you might arrive at a different poetic meaning, or you might not, depending on your approach. Does the literal meaning change at all? I'd say no.

What's "P"? The words of the poem? P for proposition?

As for metaphor, I find it interesting that you provide a hierarchy of complicated that goes from basic to more complicated like this: synonymy -> metaphor -> substitution. A similar hierarchy I would have thought of is: simily -> metaphor -> conceit.

I'll probably have to read you more carefully before I understand what you're saying.

I like the poem. It's simple, descriptive. Maybe a little sad. When I read it, I wanted to do this. Forgive me. — T Clark

Thanks, and no need for forgiveness. I find edits interesting. They point towards a different take. And I generally like this version, but I find the "And it was fun," line jarring. Not sure why. Something in the sound of it? Not sure.

I did not find the poem humorous, until you said that it is written in the same format as a limerick, so it must have some homour in it... at which point I laughed myself silly.

My side still hurts from all that laughter.

Up to that point I found it to be a mildly whiney poem (in British English, my granddaughter informs me, whindgy, or winghy poem) that complained that there is too much complaining going on in the world. In a way, a fractal that was suddenly abrupted after the first iteration.

I like the poem. It's simple, descriptive. Maybe a little sad. When I read it, I wanted to do this. Forgive me.
— T Clark

Thanks, and no need for forgiveness. I find edits interesting. — Dawnstorm

I didn't edit your poem, I shanghaied it.

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: — Moliere

For comparison, I think the short (pocket-size) version is better to read aloud and remember.

God grant me the serenity
to accept the things I cannot change;
courage to change the things I can;
and wisdom to know the difference.

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

'It' being the long, tedious and passive version. After that, anything would be 'light'!
However, Brian's poem is far from a giggly Limerick - I think you know that, right?!
He does have a talent for inserting a slice of humour into the dry, daily bread.

Intrigued by this 'new' poet, I discovered the inspiration for the poem, posted in Oct 18, 2019:

He recently tweeted two new poems about the very different world in which we are all living.
"There's an old expression: may you live in interesting times," said Bilston. "On the surface it seems like a pleasant thing to wish for. After all, who would want life to be dull and unremarkable?

"But the phrase actually gets used as a curse. And you'd be harder pressed to find a greater example of why than the last few weeks and months."

In these strange, unsettling and frightening times, Bilston said that it made him appreciate all those sweet, blessed, uninteresting days that passed by with barely a murmur. His yearning for normality spawned 'Serenity Prayer'. — CBC Radio - There's Poetry for Any Occasion

https://www.cbc.ca/radio/sunday/the-sunday-edition-for-october-20-2019-1.5325821/there-s-poetry-for-any-occasion-even-a-pandemic-just-ask-twitter-s-unofficial-poet-laureate-1.5325832

The pandemic affected us all. I wish I'd found Brian Bilston (a poet with a pseudonym) back then.
Better late than never. The poem remains relevant. Easy on the eye and ear.

Sunday, 11 April 1954. the most boring day in history. Nothing of note happened on that lazy Sunday.

May you live in interesting times. — Chinese curse

Brian Bilston

REFUGEES
They have no need of our help
So do not tell me
These haggard faces could belong to you or me
Should life have dealt a different hand
We need to see them for who they really are
Chancers and scroungers
Layabouts and loungers
With bombs up their sleeves
Cut-throats and thieves
They are not
Welcome here
We should make them
Go back to where they came from
They cannot
Share our food
Share our homes
Share our countries
Instead let us
Build a wall to keep them out
It is not okay to say
These are people just like us
A place should only belong to those who are born there
Do not be so stupid to think that
The world can be looked at another way

(now read from bottom to top)

— Brian Bilston - Refugees

However, Brian's poem is far from a giggly Limerick - I think you know that, right?! — Amity

Heh, yeh I figured it out. It's the ending of each stanza that has that Limerick-y quality that had me going to that form (thinking in terms of form not being definitionally defined):

say something really old-timey
bah-dah-tah-dah-dah
bah-dah-tah-dah-dah
and now its longer and rhymy

This thread might provide a better opportunity for discussing the subjective and objective than this vague thread. The interpretation of a work of art is a good test case in part because, as I think @Dawnstorm suggested, there's stuff in there the artist didn't put in deliberately. But it is, objectively, there. Some stuff you find only if you bring it with you, so subjective.

There's also the peculiarity that what's not there, might not be there on purpose, which happens with expression not intended as art too, but plays out differently with art. There are various ways this is done for various purposes with various effects. Always cases. Since it's not there, but the place for it is, this is particularly interesting spot for addressing the objectivity and subjectivity of interpretation.

@Moliere, @Amity, @Dawnstorm, @javi2541997

I have been really enjoying this discussion and I don't want it to end, so I thought I'd toss another fairly short poem into the blender. "For Anne Gregory" by W.B Yeats.

Never shall a young man,
Thrown into despair
By those great honey-coloured
Ramparts at your ear,
Love you for yourself alone
And not your yellow hair.'
"But I can get a hair-dye
And set such colour there,
Brown, or black, or carrot,
That young men in despair
May love me for myself alone
And not my yellow hair."
I heard an old religious man
But yesternight declare
That he had found a text to prove
That only God, my dear,
Could love you for yourself alone
And not your yellow hair

As I said, I like this poem, even if he does spell "color" wrong. It's funny and it gets to its humor with evocative language. I think of it when I see a woman with beautiful blond hair and find myself saying the last three lines under my breath.

Does anyone have thoughts before I give you my own?

In a similar way, I sing the chorus of a song I like by Steve Earl - "Galway Girl" when I see a woman with, appropriately, dark hair and blue eyes:

And I ask you now, tell me what would you do
If her hair was black and her eyes were blue
I've traveled around I've been all over this world
Boys I ain't never seen nothin' like a Galway girl

Not surprisingly I guess, this is a very popular song in Galway, Ireland. I posted a great rendition by the people of Galway in the "What are you listening to right now" thread in the Lounge. Here's a link to the post:

https://thephilosophyforum.com/profile/694/t-clark

Does anyone have thoughts before I give you my own? — T Clark

It is very difficult to interpret a poem based on Irish/Galway culture. Whenever I read the poem I understand what it said but not what was the meaning so I had to translate it into my mother tongue.
As far as I understand the poem, I would say that the main subject is the blonde hair of a woman. I guess that would be a characteristic of beautiness. When the woman claims that she can get a hair-dryer and set the colour brown, black or carrot, she wonders if she would get love with a different colour anyway.
But the poem ends warning: "only God, my dear,
Could love you for yourself alone And not your yellow hair".
Conclusion: the blonde hair is a symbol of status and perfection of beauty. So, a blonde hair woman is what the poets considered as "aesthetic"

That's a wonderful one. In part it shows polarity really well since the words are the same, just being read in a different order. But also I like the parenthetical reminder to "read thoughts backwards", not necessarily as a dialectic but at a more personal, "inner monologue" level it's often good to reverse negative mind-worms.

"For Anne Gregory" by W.B Yeats.

Never shall a young man,
Thrown into despair
By those great honey-coloured
Ramparts at your ear,
Love you for yourself alone
And not your yellow hair.'
"But I can get a hair-dye
And set such colour there,
Brown, or black, or carrot,
That young men in despair
May love me for myself alone
And not my yellow hair."
I heard an old religious man
But yesternight declare
That he had found a text to prove
That only God, my dear,
Could love you for yourself alone
And not your yellow hair — T Clark

Part of me wonders who the speaker of the poem is. Not a young man, I imagine -- because a young man would be thrown into despair swearing their love, rather than informing the listener that their beauty draws in more people than actually loves them.

The old religious man is something I keep returning to, though. Is that meant to give credibility or undermine the view? Looking at Yeats' wiki page, I have a hard time deciding. Is the old religious man a speaker of truth, or attached to old texts that wouldn't likely matter for a young couple?

I'm not sure I can follow what you're saying.

No, I didn't buy a cat today, and it follows that none of the other lines are true either. Is that what you mean by "'P' is false"? If so, yes "P" is false. If not, what are you saying isntead? — Dawnstorm

Yup, that's exactly what I was saying. So literal meaning is whether or not a statement is true or false. (note how this won't work for interrogatives or imperatives, so perhaps "literal" isn't the right word either -- since questions have a literal meaning, but I'm talking about statements here)

Poetic meaning is . . . what's being asked after. But one method we've been using is the notion of sharing our experience of a poem. It has the virtue of being open-ended, and for thems of us who just like poems too it's pleasurable :D I've gone so far as to call this sharing an "interpretation", but others have noted discomfort with that term, instead opting to say it's really just our experience of the poem that we're talking about.

I'm not sure why a paragraph of contextual meaning is sandwhiched between two references to truth. As you probably guessed, I didn't buy cat today. I don't quite see why this important. If I did, you might arrive at a different poetic meaning, or you might not, depending on your approach. Does the literal meaning change at all? I'd say no. — Dawnstorm

The meaning of the poem would change from false to true, in that case. So I'd say it does change. Or, at least, this is what I'm setting out as literal meaning, for now, given what I said above. I can see what you mean that "literal" isn't right -- let's just say truth-conditional meaning?

What's "P"? The words of the poem? P for proposition? — Dawnstorm

There I was using P for "Poem" :D -- so the whole string, including indentations.

So I think it's a bit obvious that no one would be interested -- except we curious ones philosophizing about poetry -- in the truth-conditional meaning of a poem. In a way what I'm asking is "OK, so let's just allow truth-conditional semantics to do its thing. Poetry can even be interpreted like that, but no one would do so. So what is left of meaning when we're not applying truth-conditional semantics?"

As for metaphor, I find it interesting that you provide a hierarchy of complicated that goes from basic to more complicated like this: synonymy -> metaphor -> substitution. A similar hierarchy I would have thought of is: simily -> metaphor -> conceit.

I'll probably have to read you more carefully before I understand what you're saying. — Dawnstorm

I'm not sure what the pathway to substitution is, but I think that's what I'd have to maintain, at least. Something along those lines. I'm uncertain if this is true, but for now I'm just going for consistency.

Part of me wonders who the speaker of the poem is. Not a young man, I imagine -- because a young man would be thrown into despair swearing their love, rather than informing the listener that their beauty draws in more people than actually loves them. — Moliere

I had always pictured the speaker as perhaps an older brother or uncle of the woman and her as a young adult. I spent some time on Wikipedia too. Turns out Anne Gregory was the granddaughter of Lady Gregory, one of Yeats' good friends. That would make him maybe Anne's grandfather's age. I got the feeling Anne might have been younger than I pictured too - maybe an older teenager. Not sure.

I can imagine him giving her the poem after talking about her boyfriend problems. I like the wry, ironic but lighthearted and sympathetic tone very much. I imagine them laughing about it together, perhaps with her rolling her eyes. That also makes the poem more personal than I had seen it. That makes me pull back from any broader ideas about it being a reflection on humanities inability to see beyond appearances. I never had any inclination to see it from a modern perspective as an example of the objectivization of women.

I think the old religious man is completely ironic and intended to be funny and silly. It makes me smile whenever I read it.

It is very difficult to interpret a poem based on Irish/Galway culture. Whenever I read the poem I understand what it said but not what was the meaning so I had to translate it into my mother tongue.
As far as I understand the poem, I would say that the main subject is the blonde hair of a woman. I guess that would be a characteristic of beautiness. When the woman claims that she can get a hair-dryer and set the colour brown, black or carrot, she wonders if she would get love with a different colour anyway.
But the poem ends warning: "only God, my dear,
Could love you for yourself alone And not your yellow hair".
Conclusion: the blonde hair is a symbol of status and perfection of beauty. So, a blonde hair woman is what the poets considered as "aesthetic" — javi2541997

I think the way you've interpreted the poem makes sense, although I see it as much more ironic and lighthearted than you seem to. I don't see it as a serious statement about human nature or social expectations.

I think the old religious man is completely ironic and intended to be funny and silly. It makes me smile whenever I read it. — T Clark

OK, that helps me. I was thinking how depending upon the old man the poem could be read as affirming the speaker, but that makes more sense for the rest of the poem which, I agree, feels lighthearted. So the speaker can be read as giving some warm advice to a filial woman much younger than the author -- so the speaker actually is Yeats.

That makes me pull back from any broader ideas about it being a reflection on humanities inability to see beyond appearances. I never had any inclination to see it from a modern perspective as an example of the objectivization of women. — T Clark

Ahh, I didn't see the more universal reading at all, on first glance. So the appearances are just what we humans see, and only God himself could possibly love that person.

I liked the use of "Ramparts" as a metaphor for her beauty.

Ahh, I didn't see the more universal reading at all, on first glance. — Moliere

I didn't really either, but since we are taking these examinations seriously, I thought I should try to think deeper. That's probably silly in this case.

Naw, not at all. Maybe not the most natural reading, but I think that's part of what I really enjoy about reading and sharing readings of poetry -- what seems most natural at first isn't always the best reading, and sometimes our creative readings aren't quite natural, but all that meaning -- at least insofar as I understand poetic reading -- can still be found there.

Naw, not at all. Maybe not the most natural reading, but I think that's part of what I really enjoy about reading and sharing readings of poetry -- what seems most natural at first isn't always the best reading, and sometimes our creative readings aren't quite natural, but all that meaning -- at least insofar as I understand poetic reading -- can still be found there. — Moliere

I like to read interpretations of poems on line sometimes. Most of them are terrible - smug in their certainty. After I wrote the posts above, I went and looked at some. I was surprised to see how many take the more serious, and even religious, view with no note of the irony.

Heh.

I'm often surprised by what others say of a poem. I think it's part of the pleasure: in some way we enrich our understanding or experience or reading by hearing what others have to say. I think the more we do it the less silly different thoughts sound. And, after all, it's just a poem -- so it's ok to have a bit of fun with it.

I think I'm getting better now, where you come from. I don't much care about real-world truth, when I read a poem. I was tempted to say I don't care at all, but if I know a poem is autobiographic and I know the poet, I do think it'd shade my experience. I think it's true to say of myself that real-world truth is never a priority to me. For example, if I came across a four-liner scribbled on a napkin (like my cat thingy), it wouldn't even occur to me to wonder if that really happened. I'd just take the words for what they are (and default to intra-poem true until I'm given hints that the lyrical self [equivalent to the narrator in prose] might be unreliable).

Also, I noticed I typed "simily" when it's "simile". Ah, well...I'm not sure about the role of "substitution" in metaphor; I haven't thought about it too much. At some level a lot of metaphors just substitute one word for another that's linked through some sort of commonality. But there are other types of figurative language that's often referred to as metaphor (in cognitive linguistics, for example), where you think of one domain in terms of another. Feelings, for example, are hard to talk about without referencing some other domain. "I'm feeling down (=direction), blue (=colour), etc.". If you go down the cognitive route it feels more like... borrowing than substitution. Unsure...

***

I've read the Yeats poem as a three parter:

- Your beauty's always going to distract these young men; you have to live with that.
- But what if I down-play it?
- You can't, my dear, you can't. (Too beautiful.)

Just with a lot more wit.

One thing about the poem I wasn't sure how to read was "yellow hair". "Honey coloured" is familiar. "blond(e)" would have been, too. Golden, flaxen, wheat... I'm not sure I've ever come across the simple "yellow" before. (And this is one of the areas where I would go back to the context of creation. How common is reference to "yellow hair" in 20s/30s Ireland? What's the register? Tone? Considering that "ramparts" aren't exactly an obvious comparison to hair, and ramparts aren't exactly renowned for their beauty, it's possible that we have a tongue-in-cheek downplaying of the beauty, perhaps for the poet to bring some distnace between himself and the despairing youth. I'm thinking "yellow" might be deliberately mundane. Works for a personal reading, but too unsure to accept this sort of interpretation at that stage, if were to, say, tranlsate the poem into German.

Btw, the old religious man feels like a good-natured fib to me. It's far to specific a thing to get from a scholarly text; I doubt the girl's supposed to belief that.

One thing about the poem I wasn't sure how to read was "yellow hair". "Honey coloured" is familiar. "blond(e)" would have been, too. Golden, flaxen, wheat... I'm not sure I've ever come across the simple "yellow" before. — Dawnstorm

You made me realize I really like the "yellow hair." It just feels right. Now I'm trying to figure out why. I wonder if it's just the way it sounds, flows. Or maybe it's your idea about its mundanity - you can overlook yellow but not gold. I don't know.

"ramparts" aren't exactly an obvious comparison to hair, and ramparts aren't exactly renowned for their beauty, — Dawnstorm

Now I also realize I should have thought more about "ramparts" too. What does it mean here. Ramparts are fortifications. Meant to keep people out. Does that mean that the hair, her beauty, is something to be fought for? That it's daunting? Does it mean the hair is piled up on top of her head? Maybe it's a rampart because nobody can get past it. I actually like that a bit.

That's a wonderful one. In part it shows polarity really well since the words are the same, just being read in a different order. But also I like the parenthetical reminder to "read thoughts backwards", not necessarily as a dialectic but at a more personal, "inner monologue" level it's often good to reverse negative mind-worms. — Moliere

Yes, it took me by surprise when I read his opening words:

They have no need of our help
So do not tell me
These haggard faces could belong to you or me
Should life have dealt a different hand
We need to see them for who they really are
Chancers and scroungers
Layabouts and loungers — Brian Bilston - Refugees

I thought that doesn't sound like him ( from the little I know).
'Chancers and scroungers. Layabouts and loungers' - a Tory rant if ever there was one. They don't look in the mirror much...the lounging of arrogant Rees-Mogg...

“...with his body language throughout this evening has been so contemptuous of this house and of the people,” [...]
Rees-Mogg had been “spread across three seats, lying out as if that was something very boring to listen to tonight”. — The Guardian - 'Sit up'

***

With bombs up their sleeves
Cut-throats and thieves
They are not
Welcome here
We should make them
Go back to where they came from — Brian Bilston - Refugees

The depiction of refugees as a danger to us, to be sent back or further afield is one still running its course. Even as we see the plight of multitudes running from war, famine or more.
What is the truth? What do we feel when we read the words? I think 'hate-filled Tories' but perhaps I'm wrong...

They cannot
Share our food
Share our homes
Share our countries — Brian Bilston - Refugees

Why not? Is it fear that our resources are not enough, even for us? Who sets the boundaries of plenty and famine? God? What are the causes of want and scarcity that we must flee or fight over land to survive? What might be the solutions...?
So far, this poem throws out difficult political and philosophical questions...

Instead let us
Build a wall to keep them out
It is not okay to say
These are people just like us
A place should only belong to those who are born there
Do not be so stupid to think that
The world can be looked at another way — Brian Bilston - Refugees

'Build a wall'. The answer to everything, huh? We can think of so many walls separating people, even families within the same country. Berlin 1961-1989.
The promise is a vote-winner, the becoming of President Trump.
Israel's Wall:

In 2002, Israel started constructing the wall, slicing through Palestinian communities, agricultural fields, and farmland at the height of the second Intifada.
The wall has been described by Israeli officials as a necessary security precaution against “terrorism”. — Al Jazeera - Israel's illegal separation wall still divides

The poem tells us that we are stupid if we look at the world another way.
Is that true? 'A place should only belong to those who are born there'?
What a narrow and self-limiting space to be.

(now read from bottom to top) — Brian Bilston - Refugees

And then, the surprising flip.
To look again and find the opposite word view. Benevolence and compassion to fellow human beings.
The poem is a wonderful construction.
Two sides of the wall. Two sides to every question. Can dialectics change the way we think?
Can poetry? Art means awareness. The art of @Moliere's reversing of negative mind worms. :up:

Some Tories still dream of sending migrants to Rwanda...other parties are appalled.

Speaking on the final day of her own party conference, Sturgeon said: “My dream is very different.

“My dream is that we live in a world where those fleeing violence and oppression are shown compassion and treated like human beings — not shown the door and bundled on to planes like unwanted cargo.” — Huffington Post - UK Politics

We all have our dreams...or nightmares...

Refugees. Turn them around. To see 'these haggard faces could belong to you or me, should life have dealt a different hand'.

"For Anne Gregory" by W.B Yeats.

Never shall a young man,
Thrown into despair
By those great honey-coloured
Ramparts at your ear,
Love you for yourself alone
And not your yellow hair.'
"But I can get a hair-dye
And set such colour there,
Brown, or black, or carrot,
That young men in despair
May love me for myself alone
And not my yellow hair."
I heard an old religious man
But yesternight declare
That he had found a text to prove
That only God, my dear,
Could love you for yourself alone
And not your yellow hair — T Clark

A quick first read and thoughts:
Who is Anne Gregory? Someone Yeats cares for. He speaks to her and there is a conversation about love and its conditions.
Young men are attracted by the visual. They fall in love with appearance. Culture dependent.
The Englishness of a fair maiden. Long hair tumbling from the turrets of a castle, waiting for her hero to save her and they all live happily ever after.

'Great honey-coloured Ramparts at your ear'.
A mass of sweet seduction.
'Ramparts' suggest an external barrier, defence or gateway.
'At your ear' - a veil hanging down or styled as Princess Leia in 'Star Wars'?
The outer beauty - another wall - not hearing or heeding the internal aspects of a person.

Anne wants to be loved for herself. Changing hair colour or style not to please the current male gaze but to suit herself. A challenge or test set. Or it could be her defence against love or lust.

Next up, the view of traditional religion. Only God loves you for who you are. The Bible tells us so.
Is this an effort at converting the young woman? Will she become a nun?
Will she in turn be 'in despair', seduced to holiness?
Another kind of sense. Spiritual. Non-physical.
Another kind of wall to hide behind. A golden cage...

Just curious, is there a poem about poems?

I want share another poem with you:

[He] said:
“the sea used to come here”
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

Thanks for reminding me of haiku; how it is expressed and felt.
Yes, there is a sense of loss and nostalgia for how things used to be. Loneliness.
But also a weary acceptance of life as it is. Finding small comfort in the warmth of the fire.
No direct mention of the chopping of the wood...'Chop wood, carry water'...but it's there.
Perceptions of everyday life.

'He said:' - to himself? Perhaps, and yet the poem reaches out to others...

I looked up a few of the masters and topics of Love and Cats. Just for fun:
https://www.tokyoweekender.com/2021/02/best-love-haiku/

Kobayashi Issa
One of the four great haiku masters of Japan, along with Basho, Buson and Shiki, Kobayashi Issa was a poet and a Buddhist priest living and writing in the late 18 and early 19 centuries. He is one of the most humorous haiku poets of the times, punctuating the classical haiku musings with witty remarks. No wonder he wrote about lover cats, snails climbing Mount Fuji, or just deadpan not caring about the New Year. He wrote more than 20.000 haiku poems, half of which are translated by David G. Lanoue and available online. Here are two of his cat love haikus:

こがれ猫恋気ちがいと見ゆる也
(kogare neko koi kichigai to miyuru nari)

The pining cat
is smitten with love madness
most probably

(translation: Zoria P. K. )

有明や家なし猫も恋を鳴
(ariake ya ie nashi neko mo koi wo naku)

at dawn
the homeless cat, too
cries for love

(translation: David G. Lanoue)

And a spring haiku that signifies friendship and community, the beauty of shared joys, as well as a possible budding romance:

花の陰赤の他人はなかりけり
(hana no kage aka no tanin wa nakari keri)

Under the cherry blossoms
strangers are not
really strangers

(translation: Zoria P. K.)

Just curious, is there a poem about poems? — Agent Smith

If there aren't any, then you could make one up, non?

There's a section, here:
https://brianbilston.com/category/poems-about-poems/

POETS’ CORNER
there’s lots of poets
round our way,
can’t move for ’em
(though I should like to).
not so handy
should there be a fire,
a traffic accident,
or an unexpected
celery stick-up job
at the wholefood store,
but should your
iambic pentameter
get broke
and need mendin’
these folk
are the ones
to send in.

I'm not sure I like this one. It's almost saying that poets are useless and can't do anything else other than write and theorise about poetry...or that firemen would rather pick up a hose and have no nose for anything else.

I must be missing something...a rant against poets from academia?

Hmm. The title is 'Poets' Corner'.
Perhaps a poetic drift to 'Speakers' Corner' ?
https://www.royalparks.org.uk/parks/hyde-park/things-to-see-and-do/speakers-corner

Poets' Corner: a lot of dead poets. See wiki.
These worthies had their moments in the sun.

Another from that section:

A POEM WITH NO ‘M’
A poem
With no ‘m’
Is just called a poe,
Don’t you knoe.

- Bilston

:up: