I've taken to poetry these last years.
Strange. The poetry, I mean. Some of it's really strange.
But it's more fun than it used to be. It doesn't have to rhyme and it can be about anything. The last one I read was about sitting on a bus beside a really fat guy. Trying to find room for your arm on the arm rest, and feeling very very small. And yet somehow comforted.
I get a daily Writer's Almanac in my email. It always starts with a poem. Today's poem was about spring. I noticed a strange thing as I read it. One word was repeated from the previous sentence. Usually a verb.
The poetry in my New Yorker magazine can be weird. It seems to jump from thought to thought and they don't seem to go together. Is this a test?, I'm thinking. Am I supposed to catch your meaning here?
But even if there's a cartoon on the same page - I read the poem first. And if I like it, I put it on the frig door. Life moves in delightful patterns, don't you think?
Yes, I absolutely agree! I took a poetry writing contest and discovered there are lots of different kinds of poetry, including one called a Sestina which has you take 6 specific words and have the last word in the stanza repeated in the first line of the next stanza and each stanza has 6 lines and there are six stanzas!
ReplyDeleteI love reading the poetry in the New Yorker. Even the really weird stuff!