The other day my sister told me she didn’t like poetry. *gasp* When she explained that she had to analyze a bunch of poems for school, and she said she’d make an exception for sonnets, I started to understand. Poems aren’t meant to be torn apart. When I look at a poem, I don’t think, “My, what consonance!” Whatever that means. Rather, I may think, “Wow, that was pretty.” Or even, “Huh, I never thought about it that way before.”
Poems are meant to be experienced, felt. The following poem is my response to schools sucking the joy out of words in what I hope is the spirit of The Dead Poet Society.
Here’s to the students struggling with senioritis.
Here’s for you, sis’.
Do Not Dissect This Poem
if you would, simply set aside the rhyme—
feel the rhythm, this ever-beating pulse.
Close your eyes and imagine the springtime
fresh with morning rain…
Can you hear it?
the ever-thrumming heart
of a runner as his feet pound this earth,
chest of the bull that croons,
the ever-silent pad
of her toes
on the floor
ba-Dum ba-Dum ba-DUM
Shout! it out
Stomp your rhythm
Clap your song
remember the days you laughed,
the mornings you cried
the places you came from,
look to where you will go and see
hear me ask
Don’t dissect this poem, if you would
simply let it squeal
let it sing
let it be
Let’s chat! Without disassembling my lines, what did you think of the poem? What’s your take on poetry as a whole? Do you prefer form poetry or free verse?
Similar poems: Writing a Poem, Pronunciation, and The To-Be-Read List
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