Poignancy

Why is it that really good poems make me feel deeply sad? I was thinking about this the other day; it is, no doubt, partly due to the fact that really good poets often write about the mournful sectors of society that some people spend their lives trying to overlook. But that can't be all of it - some poetry is definitely playful, even joyful, and yet the best of these poems still make me sad.

I think it could be because poetry often depends on poignancy for effect; this poignancy, in turn, leaves a bittersweet taste. Even though the poem may speak of a perfect day, that perfect day remains only in dead words on a cold page.

Still reading Seamus Heaney - and I don't really have a poem that illustrates what I'm trying to say, even though all of his poems seem to be shining examples. Maybe because all of his poems seem to be shining examples ...