The Office of Poetry — Poetic Creation
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Lucas Luiz
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The Fire of Language – Reflections about Poetic Creation
My participation in the Sarau Itinerary of Guararema (13/09/2025):
"LIGHT"
p/ the poet John Son
Teach me to pray as you pray,
with the constant grace of a song,
who watches over and reserves us
a place on the table by the Musa.
He watches both prayer and song,
for together to forge harmony,
Seal the saying by the heart
to praise the Father for another day...
I raise my noises to the rosary,
To ellipse my flaws of meaning
And tune my spirit in this river...
It is Gabriel's voice that announces:
the Word in the waters of poetry,
to restore us to life in the estio.
p/ the poet John Son
Teach me to pray as you pray,
with the constant grace of a song,
who watches over and reserves us
a place on the table by the Musa.
He watches both prayer and song,
for together to forge harmony,
Seal the saying by the heart
to praise the Father for another day...
I raise my noises to the rosary,
To ellipse my flaws of meaning
And tune my spirit in this river...
It is Gabriel's voice that announces:
the Word in the waters of poetry,
to restore us to life in the estio.
"What's in the poem"
The maximum “in the poem everything fits” circulates frequently in literary environments and social networks, and at first sounds liberating. But what seems to be an opening statement can, if it is not well understood, cast poetry on the ground of dispersion and conceptual confusion. Yes, it is true that every human experience can, in power, be converted into poetic matter — from everyday scene to metaphysical revelation, from banal to sacred. But that is not to say that any set of words arranged in verses, with artificial breaks and some emotional emphasis, can be called poetry.
To say that “all fits in the poem” is to forget that poetry is not a passive vessel, but a living form. And every form imposes limits, albeit mobile. The poet is not a writer of the world, but someone who rearranges him by language. It seeks a just, necessary form that reveals the invisible contained in the real. That requires precision, listening, elaboration. Not just impulse or spontaneous expression.
The recurring error that I observe, especially in online production, is in the assumption that the simple disposition of the text in verse already confers poetic legitimacy to writing. It's the line cutting fetish. Words are placed in vertical rows, loose stanzas, vaguely emotional phrases, and published with the nickname of poetry. There is often sincerity there, I wish to say something, but the essential is missing: the transfiguration by language. Most of these texts do not go beyond the field of intention.
On the other hand, it is equally illusory to believe that the fixed form itself — rhymes, metrics, regular stanzas — can guarantee poetic quality. Formal rigidity without internal pulsation produces only caricature of poetry, a surface engineering. The poem, even when metrified, must be born of the tension between restraint and impulse, between music and silence. The shape must be conquered, not pasted as a mold.
This is where the free verse demands even more formal responsibility. By abdicating the visible contours of the metric or rhyme, the poet takes on the challenge of creating his own internal order. It is not about writing freely, but about finding a necessary pace. A field of strength between words, a balance that only reveals itself to those who listen deeply to language. The free verse, when well accomplished, is the son of listening, not the license.
During my training, I missed a critical mediation that helped me distinguish between intention and realization, between affection and elaboration. That is what led me years later to try to offer this mediation to others. Not as authority, but as someone who is also on the way, and who trusts tradition as an ally. Not as a prison, but as a tool.
Poetry isn't everything.
Poetry is all that goes through the fire of language and transfigures.
The maximum “in the poem everything fits” circulates frequently in literary environments and social networks, and at first sounds liberating. But what seems to be an opening statement can, if it is not well understood, cast poetry on the ground of dispersion and conceptual confusion. Yes, it is true that every human experience can, in power, be converted into poetic matter — from everyday scene to metaphysical revelation, from banal to sacred. But that is not to say that any set of words arranged in verses, with artificial breaks and some emotional emphasis, can be called poetry.
To say that “all fits in the poem” is to forget that poetry is not a passive vessel, but a living form. And every form imposes limits, albeit mobile. The poet is not a writer of the world, but someone who rearranges him by language. It seeks a just, necessary form that reveals the invisible contained in the real. That requires precision, listening, elaboration. Not just impulse or spontaneous expression.
The recurring error that I observe, especially in online production, is in the assumption that the simple disposition of the text in verse already confers poetic legitimacy to writing. It's the line cutting fetish. Words are placed in vertical rows, loose stanzas, vaguely emotional phrases, and published with the nickname of poetry. There is often sincerity there, I wish to say something, but the essential is missing: the transfiguration by language. Most of these texts do not go beyond the field of intention.
On the other hand, it is equally illusory to believe that the fixed form itself — rhymes, metrics, regular stanzas — can guarantee poetic quality. Formal rigidity without internal pulsation produces only caricature of poetry, a surface engineering. The poem, even when metrified, must be born of the tension between restraint and impulse, between music and silence. The shape must be conquered, not pasted as a mold.
This is where the free verse demands even more formal responsibility. By abdicating the visible contours of the metric or rhyme, the poet takes on the challenge of creating his own internal order. It is not about writing freely, but about finding a necessary pace. A field of strength between words, a balance that only reveals itself to those who listen deeply to language. The free verse, when well accomplished, is the son of listening, not the license.
During my training, I missed a critical mediation that helped me distinguish between intention and realization, between affection and elaboration. That is what led me years later to try to offer this mediation to others. Not as authority, but as someone who is also on the way, and who trusts tradition as an ally. Not as a prison, but as a tool.
Poetry isn't everything.
Poetry is all that goes through the fire of language and transfigures.
"TROVAS"
xvi.
You don't always hit your hand,
there are days of inert forces;
Everything, however, is a lesson
— on a seed you see...
xvii.
The story is circular
Well knew Ecclesiastes
Everything has to come back
Under the robes of other arts...
xviii.
Our Daily Read
It's forever.
life is one and several:
archetype of the Trinity.
xix.
Experiment... Compress...
Cut... I give you a new order... Risk...
The most crystalline verse
It's usually the most risky.
xx.
The Good Soul Repented
is the most beautiful prayer:
There's nothing more beautiful in life
That a serious confession..
xvi.
You don't always hit your hand,
there are days of inert forces;
Everything, however, is a lesson
— on a seed you see...
xvii.
The story is circular
Well knew Ecclesiastes
Everything has to come back
Under the robes of other arts...
xviii.
Our Daily Read
It's forever.
life is one and several:
archetype of the Trinity.
xix.
Experiment... Compress...
Cut... I give you a new order... Risk...
The most crystalline verse
It's usually the most risky.
xx.
The Good Soul Repented
is the most beautiful prayer:
There's nothing more beautiful in life
That a serious confession..
"THE WAY THE POET'S RESPONSIBILITY"
We live in a time when poetry seems to have emancipated from every form requirement.
You write something anyway, and it's called a poem.
But this freedom, celebrated as a conquest, has cost the poetic art itself dearly.
What defines a work of art?
And what do poets need to learn from other artists?
In the video “What is a work of art?”, Olavo de Carvalho presents six fundamental criteria to distinguish a work of art from a simple expressive intention.
In short:
1. The artwork has finishing – it is a finished form;
2. This form is sensitive – it can be apprehended by one of the senses;
3. The work not only has a form: it consists of a form;
4. The form is the purpose, not a means to convey a message;
5. The suggested content is irrelevant without the form it performs;
6. Art is not a declaration of values – it creates forms that contain them.
These criteria restore the core of what was lost in contemporary poetry: formal responsibility.
And that responsibility widens when we look at other arts.
What can poets learn from other artists?
In the article “What can poets learn from other artists?”, Brian Belancieri shows how the poet’s craft becomes impoverished when he isolates himself from the discipline governing the work of a musician, a dancer, an actor or a cook.
All these artists are based on a common foundation: technical mastery and dedication to finishing.
Belancieri states that art is carried out by the “masters of craft”, those who keep their production within the limits of excellence, who educate by form and who preserve art as a human legacy.
The poet, therefore, is not exempt:
has a duty to write well, to elevate language and to cultivate the living memory of poetry.
This is where Brian's words gain pedagogical weight:
> “A painter who misses perspective is finished.
An orchestra that defines does not perform twice.
An unfit sculptor doesn't fool anyone.
But with poetry, it seems that everything is allowed.”
To what is this permissiveness due?
Perhaps to the fact that the error in poetry does not scream –
He hides.
Or rather, it is hidden by those who commit it, under the pretext of subjectivism.
But this self-deception is fatal.
Because you are not responsible for completing the work.
Those who write must give the form: they must reach, not just suggest.
Thus, a work of art is justified by its final form,
Not by the emotion that motivated your creation.
The form is the objective instance where poetry takes place.
Other than that, everything's draft.
References
- Carvalho, Olavo de. What is a work of art?
YouTube video. Available in:
- Belanceri, Brian. What can poets learn from other artists?
Substack Newsletter. Available in:
Abrir link
We live in a time when poetry seems to have emancipated from every form requirement.
You write something anyway, and it's called a poem.
But this freedom, celebrated as a conquest, has cost the poetic art itself dearly.
What defines a work of art?
And what do poets need to learn from other artists?
In the video “What is a work of art?”, Olavo de Carvalho presents six fundamental criteria to distinguish a work of art from a simple expressive intention.
In short:
1. The artwork has finishing – it is a finished form;
2. This form is sensitive – it can be apprehended by one of the senses;
3. The work not only has a form: it consists of a form;
4. The form is the purpose, not a means to convey a message;
5. The suggested content is irrelevant without the form it performs;
6. Art is not a declaration of values – it creates forms that contain them.
These criteria restore the core of what was lost in contemporary poetry: formal responsibility.
And that responsibility widens when we look at other arts.
What can poets learn from other artists?
In the article “What can poets learn from other artists?”, Brian Belancieri shows how the poet’s craft becomes impoverished when he isolates himself from the discipline governing the work of a musician, a dancer, an actor or a cook.
All these artists are based on a common foundation: technical mastery and dedication to finishing.
Belancieri states that art is carried out by the “masters of craft”, those who keep their production within the limits of excellence, who educate by form and who preserve art as a human legacy.
The poet, therefore, is not exempt:
has a duty to write well, to elevate language and to cultivate the living memory of poetry.
This is where Brian's words gain pedagogical weight:
> “A painter who misses perspective is finished.
An orchestra that defines does not perform twice.
An unfit sculptor doesn't fool anyone.
But with poetry, it seems that everything is allowed.”
To what is this permissiveness due?
Perhaps to the fact that the error in poetry does not scream –
He hides.
Or rather, it is hidden by those who commit it, under the pretext of subjectivism.
But this self-deception is fatal.
Because you are not responsible for completing the work.
Those who write must give the form: they must reach, not just suggest.
Thus, a work of art is justified by its final form,
Not by the emotion that motivated your creation.
The form is the objective instance where poetry takes place.
Other than that, everything's draft.
References
- Carvalho, Olavo de. What is a work of art?
YouTube video. Available in:
- Belanceri, Brian. What can poets learn from other artists?
Substack Newsletter. Available in:
Abrir link
Writing takes place in the synthesis, in the ability to condense the maximum sense in what is made up. This is not necessarily linked to the extent of the work, but to the precise use of the essential words to convey ideas or feelings so that nothing about or lacks — that reading generates full satisfaction. It is the relentless search for mot juste, as Flaubert would say, the commitment to the exact word.
Insights and spontaneous reflections arising from studies and readings: Poetry Is Useless