Culture

Reading poetry when you’re sure you don’t like poetry

By Amanda Aguiar · · 4 min read

A great many people who read constantly do not read poetry, and can say precisely why: they were taught that poems contain a concealed meaning, that finding it is the point, and that failing to find it means failing. That is a description of a comprehension exercise, not of reading, and it is a reliable way to make someone dislike an art form for thirty years.

What follows assumes you are intelligent, read willingly, and have been put off. It is not a defence of poetry. It is a set of adjustments.

Drop the search for the hidden meaning

The single most damaging habit is treating a poem as a locked box. Most poems are not encrypted statements. They are attempts to put an experience into language precisely enough that a reader has something like it.

A more useful first question than what does this mean is what does this do. Where does it speed up or slow down? Which word sits oddly? Where did you feel something before you understood why?

That last question is not a consolation prize. Poems frequently work on you before they make sense to you, and noticing the effect is a legitimate reading.

Read it aloud, genuinely

Poetry is closer to music than to prose, and silent reading discards most of what a poem is doing. Rhythm, the weight of consonants, where a line makes you pause — none of it registers fully in the head.

Reading aloud also fixes the pacing problem. People read poems at prose speed, arrive at the end in twelve seconds, and conclude nothing happened. A poem is short because it is dense, not because it is quick.

Read it more than once, immediately

Nobody expects to understand a piece of music on one hearing. Poems carry the same expectation and are rarely granted it.

Three readings is a reasonable minimum: once to see what happens, once aloud for the sound, once knowing the ending. The third is frequently where a poem opens, because most poems are built to be re-read and place their weight accordingly.

Start with living poets

School poetry is largely old poetry, which imposes a double burden: unfamiliar form and unfamiliar language, before you get to the poem.

Contemporary poetry is written in the language you speak, about circumstances you recognise. Whatever you are interested in — grief, cities, illness, parenthood, work, migration — there is current poetry addressing it directly.

The older canon is worth returning to. It is a poor place to start when you are trying to establish whether you like the form at all.

Abandon poems freely

Not every poem is for every reader, and no obligation attaches to finishing one. A collection is not a novel; skipping is a normal way to read it.

The productive approach is to move through a book quickly, stop at anything that snags, and ignore the rest. Two poems that matter to you are a successful book. Trying to appreciate all sixty is how people stop reading poetry a second time.

Difficulty is not a hierarchy

Some poems are hard because the experience they describe is hard to articulate. Others are hard because obscurity was mistaken for depth. You are permitted to conclude the second, and doing so is not a failure of sophistication.

Equally, a poem being immediately clear does not make it slight. Plain language capable of holding something difficult is among the harder things to write.

Where to actually begin

Anthologies of contemporary work are useful precisely because they let you sample many voices cheaply and discover what you respond to before committing to a single poet.

Poems shared by other readers are also a good route — they arrive already filtered by someone’s enthusiasm rather than by a syllabus.

And audio is underrated. Hearing a poet read their own work resolves questions about pacing and tone that the page leaves open, and it removes the pressure of performing the reading yourself.

The honest expectation

You will not like most poems, and this is unremarkable — most people do not like most novels either, but they have read enough to know that. With poetry, many readers have a sample size of a dozen forced encounters at fifteen.

Read forty poems across five contemporary poets and you will have a genuine basis for deciding. If you still find nothing, that is a real answer arrived at honestly, and considerably better than an inherited verdict from a classroom.

Frequently asked questions

Why is poetry so hard to understand?

Often it is not, but school teaches poems as puzzles with concealed answers, which frames every reading as a test. Asking what a poem does rather than what it means removes that pressure and is usually more productive.

Should poems be read aloud?

Yes. Poetry works closer to music than prose, and rhythm, sound and pause largely disappear in silent reading. Reading aloud also slows the pace, which prevents the common experience of finishing a poem before it has done anything.

Where should a beginner start?

With living poets writing in contemporary language about recognisable circumstances. Older canonical work adds unfamiliar form and vocabulary on top of the poem itself, which is a poor test of whether you enjoy the form.