Why do we as people love poetry so? Is it because, of the simple way it is laid out, or because of the choice of words? Is it the way the lines flow, like a metronome keeping time?
I like to think it is because, they transport us into emotion. Some poems are happy, some are sad, some are jolly and some just down right mad.
But what makes a poem a poem? Some claim it needs rhythm, an iambic pentameter, a beat, a pulse…so then is it a living thing? A living, breathing creature of our own imagination? Then again, some poems do not follow this rule. They just exist. Just words on a page…just like this one.
I must admit that I am constantly falling in and out of love with poetry. I don’t know why, I just do. Does that make me fickle for choosing narrative over feeling?
Yet books make us feel…normal, everyday books make us feel too. Some make us laugh, some make us cry and some well, some just make you wonder what the hell that publisher was thinking.
I think for me, I shy away from poetry because, to me it is something personal…something precious, like a diary full of truth and honesty. Poems are honest. They speak the truth. They do not lie. Yes, they can be flamboyant and cocky but aren’t humans also pretentious?
Poetry is the most creative form of literature there is available. For it is art. Word art (not the kind find in Microsoft Office). Poetry has always been about expression of self, a release of feeling both personal and environmental.
What is a poet? How do we know someone is a poet? Does someone tell them, or is it something more obvious?
Wikipedia describes a poet to be “one of communication, either expressing ideas in a literal sense, such as writing about a specific event or place, or metaphorically.”.
There are thousands of poets throughout the world each with a million or so poems available for our perusal. People have been writing poems for millennia and people are still writing poems today. Will they be astronomically successful to the point where children are sat learning, analysing and discovering their own poetic genius, or will they just be stuck in the back of a drawer, the pages curling and yellowing with age?
Poetry is almost something as old as time. And the most amazing thing is the poems of the past are still relevant today. We still connect, appreciate and relate to a tree, or a lost love or to society that was written back in the 1800s or earlier. That is what makes poetry to me so special. It’s reliability.
I hope you’ve been able to stick with this post. I am feeling rather metaphysical today.
Feel free to let me know of any poems/poets you think I should look at. I’ll remember to mention you in my posts when I review them too.