Ok, so it’s the evening of the last day of Poetry Month, and I’m finally writing a blog on poetry. I suggest we call this Poetry Season and proceed, ok?
First off, let me say that I believe poetry matters. It distills human experience and serves it up in the best language it can find. It may make us slow down in order to really get the flavor of the words, but in return it pulls back the curtain and gives us a glimpse into the mystery of being alive or lets us see something ordinary in a whole new way.
The Academy of American Poets recently shared this poem by an 11-year-old from Michigan named Charlie. Charlie already knows something about the lure of poetry and its rewards.
Poems open your eyes
Secret things become visible
Another world waiting for you to explore
Me what you find
Let curiosity take over
And if Charlie will share his, so will I. I wrote this whimsical little poem on an April day some time ago. It’s called “Spring Fling”:Weeping cherry, they call you. Maybe you weep in winter, but today you dance, tree bedecked in blossomy pink tutu. I have no doubt the mockingbird singing his Ode to Spring in 26 avian tongues is showing off for you. I wouldn’t be surprised if you should take a happy little turn when no one’s watching (except, perhaps, the mockingbird and me).
Your turn. Go ahead. Write a poem. Share it with someone. Or read some. You’ll find plenty on-line. Or go browse the poetry section of a good bookstore and treat yourself to a book that speaks to you. Savor it. Read your favorites to somebody you love. Memorize one.
Don’t be a stranger to poetry. It’s your birthright.