So, I am not a big fan of poetry. I've never found a poem that spoke to me. Poems, to me, are either whiny emotional rants, or rambling analogies for non-important things. I get that they speak to other types, but for me, they hold no value. At least none that I've read so far in my life. Maybe I just haven't happened upon "my kind" of poet.
The k12 curriculum that Agora Cyber Charter School uses, teaches a lot of poetry in the Language Arts course. I think that's fantastic that the kids are learning about poetry, I just have a hard time teaching it.
But I guess either I'm doing an okay job, or Ava just has a natural knack for poetry. Yesterday she had to write a poem about rain. I like hers better than the Robert Louis Stevenson one that we read for "inspiration"...
(It's raining here and there,
Come and jump in puddles.
Splash! Jumping is fun!
We're all wet!)
Your ranting on poetry is prolix
ReplyDeleteIt's frequency is most revealing
It reminds me of another fix
Your view of personality typing.
Your distaste is a character flaw. How you cannot find such inspiring is beyond me.
ReplyDeleteOr...
ReplyDelete"Sea-Fever"
I must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky,
And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by,
And the wheel's kick and the wind's song and the white sail's shaking,
And a grey mist on the sea's face, and a grey dawn breaking.
I must go down to the seas again, for the call of the running tide
Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied;
And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying,
And the flung spray and the blown spume, and the sea-gulls crying.
I must go down to the seas again, to the vagrant gypsy life,
To the gull's way and the whale's way where the wind's like a whetted knife;
And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow-rover
And quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick's over.
~John Masefield (1878-1967)
Or the first poem I recall ever memorizing, Frost's Mending Wall:
ReplyDelete"Spring is the mischief in me, and I wonder
If I could put a notion in his head:
'Why do they make good neighbors?"
The flow and combination of words is nice in those poems, but they don't make me "FEEL" anything.
ReplyDeleteWhen I read them to myself, I try to make myself be inspired. But it never happens. I read them out loud and put fake emotion into the words, but still nothing....
I know how to read them out loud as if they mean something to me, but it's fake, if I'm honest.
It's not so much the "feeling" as it is awe at the choice of the exact words to express a thought. Reminds me of that scene in Mozart:
ReplyDeleteEmperor Joseph II: My dear young man, don't take it too hard. Your work is ingenious. It's quality work. And there are simply too many notes, that's all. Just cut a few and it will be perfect.
Mozart: Which few did you have in mind, Majesty?