Poetry as therapy
2007; Medknow; Volume: 49; Issue: 3 Linguagem: Inglês
10.4103/0019-5545.37377
ISSN1998-3794
Autores Tópico(s)Neuroscience, Education and Cognitive Function
ResumoIn this issue we look at poetry. The shared realms of poetry and psychology are vast. Poetry facilitates therapy in myriad ways. Poet psychiatrist Dr. T. M. Raghuram writes an introductory piece on this aspect. A guest poet Roopa uses poetry to sublimate crises (not necessarily her own). Reflective pieces on poetry and the mind are welcome. - Ajit V. Bhide, Literary Editor, (E-mail: [email protected]) Poetry is the earliest form of oral literature – a blend of language and music. Historically human beings expressed their emotions through music, from lullabies and love songs to dirges and lamentations. Add to this, ideas and images; and poetry is born. Poetry is also a means of sublimating one's romantic, aggressive or even nihilistic impulses. It acts as a catharsis, providing relief or therapy, so to say. Richard Milne describes the poet as the '. sacred historian of the heart / and moral nature's lord.'. Like in dream analysis, an intuitive psychiatrist can delve into the mind of the poet by sifting through the maze of phrases, metaphors, images and symbols. Some people write in agony and frustration, some in deep love and ecstasy or seething rage. An analysis of the poem gives a picture of the poet's heart. Poetry communicates at the subconscious level, which is why some lines move us to tears or lift us in joy, inspire us or save us from destroying ourselves. Coleridge used his poetry to soothe the pain of his cancer. Patients with a literary flair can utilize poetic methods to reveal their complex thought processes and conflicts. It helps them to define and grapple with their strange problems. When the psychiatrist has a poetic mind, he can easily make sure of the patient's inner turmoil that is expressed through poetry. When the poet is also a psychiatrist, like William Carlos Williams, we get literary gems out of this amalgamation. To the poetic therapist beset with mind-boggling abnormal predicaments, poetry is both rewarding as well as self therapeutic. Dr. T. M. Raghuram, M.D. D.P.M.(Vellore), is Asst. Prof. of Psychiatry at M.E.S. Medical College, Perintalmanna, Kerala. He is a well-known Indo-Anglian poet with three published volumes of verse. His first book was shortlisted for the Commonwealth Poetry Prize in 1987. He received the International Poet of Merit Award from USA in 1995. E-mail: - Ajit V. Bhide, Literary Editor. A POEM BY ROOPA I have found my garden And the sown seeds have grown. It's the greenness of the leaves That are beckoning me. Like the shy moon, I have wanted all day I have spoken all I could With thoughts clear as dew drops Read my hidden expression Some times behind my frowning furrows. Don't make me strain harder Open up and listen I am chirping louder than the birds Its my chance to show Watch me I'm beaming like the moon Because back home there are people Waiting to be told That I have achieved more than I thought I could I have to carry that trophy back home Listen, I'm here to stay. I tried telling you my Story yesterday But my emotions choked me. All I could do was wait for my Cheeks to dry Today I can fight back My tears Battling within my eye; I have gathered strength And courage and can think of words. Can you understand me, Watching my quivering lips, Understand what I'm trying to say ? It took me all these years Only to realize that All my stumbling blocks Were stepping stones Today I can relive my past And pluck away All those thorns easily Without my fingers pricked I now realize That the path has always been clear Only I wasn't ready And I have spent All my yesterdays Waiting for today Tell me If I can help you Come closer to your dreams Even if by an inch or two Some times I think Time has made me wait So long To give me my today For time My yesterday is a short while From its eternity But I know I cannot count on my morrows And today is all I have. Realize that A sculptor can give life And create beauty from stones We can also sculpt People around us Waiting to be sculpted Don't worry I will not point My finger at you For my arriving late. I am working At my short comings To live my day Thank you For bringing me Closer to myself In the realms of yesterday All that happened Were only noises Distracting the truth… I have to some how Find truth today
Referência(s)