Ughh. . .the first week of the semester. It’s the absolute most chaotic time I know. Everything is new. Everything is confusing. Everything looks so big and un-doable.
…sorry for not posting more the last few days–first week of the semester and all…
I love poetry, but until this semester I’ve never taken a course which really dove deep into it. This semester I’m taking a course which focuses on the poetry of Emily Dickinson. She’s such a mystery–literally and figuratively. The last few decades of her life were lived in almost total seclusion. Outside of her family, very few people saw her. Yet, she composed some of the most beautiful verse ever put to paper–most of it as communication with and gifts to those few friends who were closest to her.
The beautiful thing about Dickinson’s poetry, about all poetry really, is that, as Jim Morrison alluded to, it speaks to all of us in whatever way we choose to let it. In that way, poetry is unique among the arts. Its uniqueness comes not from meter, rhyme, rhythm, or form, but rather from the fact that poetry speaks from the inside out. Poetry only has meaning when it is taken in; when it is internalized and contextualized by the reader. Then its purpose becomes apparent.
Whatever we need it to be.
Poetry alone has the power to mix and match seemingly unrelated words and phrases into a patchwork quilt of understanding and realization so natural; so obvious; so undeniable that we can scarcely remember a time when we didn’t know it to be true.
Poetry is not words on a page.
Poetry is what the words on the page reveal in us.
And now if you’ll indulge me–a bit of my own…
a verse on verse
tickling every sense
tweaking every sensibility
letters and sounds and words and phrases
meshed into one likeness; one sameness;
one self-realization after self-realization
verse upon verse interwoven becomes more
more than letters and sounds and words and phrases
verse upon verse becomes heart
becomes soul; becomes body, mind, spirit
verse upon verse read inside out
becomes me, you, us, and we
verse upon verse becomes who and what it needs to be