I hadn't intended on writing a post about inspiration or plagiarism this morning. But there I was, going through
my morning blog readings when I came across a poem that sounded familiar to me . . . very familiar. I knew I hadn't read anything by the author before, but the more I re-read the poem, the more I was convinced I'd encountered very similar words and sentiments in the David Whyte poem below:
SELF PORTRAIT
by David Whyte from
Fire in the Earth (Many Rivers Press)
It doesn't interest me if there is one God
or many gods.
I want to know if you belong or feel
abandoned.
If you know despair or can see it in others.
I want to know
if you are prepared to live in the world
with its harsh need
to change you. If you can look back
with firm eyes
saying this is where I stand. I want to know
if you know
how to melt into that fierce heat of living
falling toward
the center of your longing. I want to know
if you are willing
to live, day by day, with the consequence of love
and the bitter
unwanted passion of your sure defeat.
I have heard, in
that fierce embrace, even
the gods speak of God.
David Whyte's poem was published in 1992. The other poem was published in 1999, by HarperOne no less. The book in which it was published had recommendations from folks like Wayne Dyer and John O'Donohue, who also was a good friend of David Whyte's. How, I wondered, could he not see the similarities? Here I sit, with no personal connection to either poet, feeling conflicted about my moral duty as a reader (and writer) yet John O'Donohue called this other writer's book "remarkable." "Yeah, remarkably similar to David Whyte," I thought to myself.
In doing more research (via the Amazon.com comments section) one particular one star reviewer said it was "watered down David Whyte."* That prompted a comment from another reader that the author said the poem based on a writing exercise given to her by David Whyte. And sure enough, using the Amazon's "search inside this book" tool there are a couple references (in the dedication and acknowledgements) saying that the poem upon which the book is based was inspired by David Whyte. I didn't find this information on the author's website, where the poem is prominently placed on her home page, nor is there an acknowledgment in the title of the poem like some poets do when paying homage to another artist who has inspired their writing.
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A 21st century image of inspiration?
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Which leads me to my conundrum. Is that enough acknowledgment to move the poem across the line from plagiarism to inspiration?
I can imagine David Whyte giving students the assignment to try writing a poem or prose piece using the formula, "It doesn't interest me . . . I want to know . . . (the other poem follows this pattern and also includes some remarkably similar lines to David Whyte's version). When I lead writing workshops or retreats I often ease people into putting words on paper by giving them some poems for inspiration and inviting them to use one as a trellis onto which they can graft their own images, words, ideas . . . write an
ode to an everyday object como Pablo Neruda, write about what might have been
"otherwise" like Jane Kenyon, or try a
litany of what pleases you, like Taliesin.
The purpose of these exercises is to get pens moving on paper, to create a sense of safety and security by offering a form as guidance. The instruction to "write a poem" can be daunting but "write an ode about something you encounter every day" leads me to think about the way my tea mug is comforting because it's the color of Campbell's tomato soup and, even though it's a smidge too big to fit comfortably in my hand, I will hold onto it for its orangey-red hue alone.
Writing exercises are like treasure maps. They can lead us on the path to discover our voices as writers. They help get us to a place where we can crack open the treasure chest of images and experiences that we each have inside of us, the one that our inner critic often sits on saying that what's inside is just paste and fool's gold.
And yes, we should acknowledge those who inspired us on the way, especially if we use their work as a basis for our own. Which is why when I write my ode to my mug later this morning I will say very clearly in the title, "
After Pablo Neruda."
*Actually unnecessarily padded is the description I would give it. The
other poem is much longer than the David Whyte text and not as focused which to me, makes the kernel of the poem lose its import, unlike the original text which cuts like a knife to the center of my being.
