Your Poetry Birthright

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.





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