Oddments

In search of story

April 1.21: Coping

4 Comments

It’s Poetry Month!

Awake, Chanticleer!

It’s a Word Party

for one-twelfth of the year!

Such rarified air —

how best celebrate?

Use words like behoof,

whence, vulpinate?

Will I write my to-do list

in tripping dactylic,

wear diaphanous robes

though I look imbecilic?

What shall I read?

Some Dickinson, Frost?

Maybe an epic

like Paradise Lost?

Yes, I’m name-dropping;

it’s only a ruse

for what I tuck in them:

my friend, Mother Goose.

Does rhyme make a poem?

I think not, but then

I don’t know what does —

it’s out of my ken.

I’ve read and I’ve wondered

if anyone knows

why some works are called poems

and not just fine prose.

What makes a poem?

Can I know beyond doubt?

Will Poetry Month

help me figure it out?

 

 

4 thoughts on “April 1.21: Coping

  1. If you can’t figure it out, the rest of us are doomed. πŸ™‚ I’ve always liked poetry, but was never interested or able to write it. I live the poet’s life vicariously through you, my friend. πŸ™‚ Of course, I was a big Mother Goose Fan and even remember Dick, Jane, and Spot. πŸ™‚

    • Oh, yes, the days of great literature: See Spot run. Run, Spot, run. Run, run, run. Don’t you wonder that first-grade teachers kept any sanity at all? And maybe they didn’t! I’ll take Mother Goose any day. I find the concept of poetry very confusing, yet I’ve heard some people talk about it as though they understand exactly what it is. I set aside Poetry Month to scratching my head more than usual.

  2. Thank you for the invite to your word party. I’ll echo Judy – if you can’t figure it out, the rest of us haven’t much chance. But it seems we become less sure of some things the more we wonder about them.

    • You make a good point about wondering. I’ve been wondering about poetry for a long time and it hasn’t helped much. Maybe some things in life are just to be wondered about.

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