I adore poetry, as anyone who knows me knows. Actually, you don’t even have to know me — you can just be sitting next to me on a plane (I’m often reading poetry), or standing by me in a bookstore (cruising the poetry shelves). You might be my letter carrier, bringing me poetry magazines. Or, if you tell me it’s okay, you might be reading this blog during April…
Because I’d like to post poetry — mine, classic, favourites, obscure but worth rescuing. And I need to know how you feel about that. And just in case, here’s a short justification, tying poetry (the reading of it, the writing of it):
Poetry — all art, really — connects us. Offers us the experiences of another to consider, experiences sifted through the sieves of imagery and compression. Reading and writing poetry both help us to see better: to observe the details in the world around us, and to be more aware of how those details shift when seen through the eyes of another.
If you love songs, if their lyrics sometimes speak for you when emotions thicken your throat and words are hard to come by, you’re already halfway to being a poet. And you certainly should be reading poetry! It’s the heart’s own language.
So let me know what you think. I’m going to take license, and post one today I dearly love, by a wonderful, well-loved American poet, Elizabeth Bishop. Here’s her poem (A villanelle, no less! But you’ll still like it… ) One Art: