While poetry has a rich literary tradition, it also permeates our everyday lives in unexpected ways. From song lyrics and advertising slogans to social media posts and graffiti art, poetic language surrounds us, inviting us to pause, reflect, and connect with our innermost thoughts and feelings.
Poetry, often referred to as the language of the soul, has been a form of artistic expression for centuries. From ancient epics to modern spoken word performances, poetry captivates and connects us through its rhythmic cadence and evocative imagery. In this blog post, we delve into the enchanting world of poetry, exploring its various forms, significance, and enduring appeal.
What is Poetry?
At its core, poetry is a literary form characterized by the use of rhythm, meter, and imagery to evoke emotions and convey ideas. Unlike prose, which follows a more straightforward narrative structure, poetry often employs heightened language and symbolism to create layers of meaning and evoke sensory experiences.
Forms of Poetry:
Poetry encompasses a wide range of forms, each with its own unique structure and conventions. From sonnets to haikus, ballads to free verse, poets have experimented with diverse forms throughout history. These forms not only provide poets with frameworks for expression but also challenge them to innovate within established boundaries.
It Significance:
Poetry holds a significant place in human culture for several reasons. Firstly, it serves as a timeless record of human experience, reflecting the beliefs, emotions, and struggles of different societies and individuals across time. Moreover, poetry has the power to inspire, provoke thought, and foster empathy by offering fresh perspectives on familiar themes.
The Art of Interpretation:
One of the beauties of poetry lies in its openness to interpretation. Each reader brings their unique background, experiences, and emotions to the text, shaping their understanding and appreciation of the poem. Whether analyzing the symbolism in a classic sonnet or interpreting the imagery in a contemporary poem, engaging with poetry encourages critical thinking and deepens our understanding of the human condition.
Collected Poems
Poem 001: How Bright It Is
April. And the air dry
As the shoulders of a water buffalo.
Grasshoppers scratch at the dirt,
rub their wings with thin legs
flaring out in front of the soldiers
in low arcing flights, wings a blur.
The soldiers don’t notice anymore,
seeing only the wreckage of the streets,
bodies draped with sheets, and the sun,
how bright it is, how hard and flat and white.
It will take many nails from the coffinmakers
to shut out this light, which reflects off everything:
the calloused feet of the dead, their bony hands,
their pale foreheads so cold, brilliant in the sun.
—Brian Turner
Brian Turner
Brian Turner (1967- ) is the author of two poetry collections, including Phantom Noise (Alice James Books, 2010). A U.S. Army veteran, Turner directs the MFA program at Sierra Nevada College.
Poem 002: The Good Life
When some people talk about money
They speak as if it were a mysterious lover
Who went out to buy milk and never
Came back, and it makes me nostalgic
For the years I lived on coffee and bread,
Hungry all the time, walking to work on payday
Like a woman journeying for water
From a village without a well, then living
One or two nights like everyone else
On roast chicken and red wine.
—Tracy K. Smith
Tracy K. Smith
Tracy K. Smith (1972- ) is a Pulitzer Prize-winning poet and served as the 22nd Poet Laureate Consultant in Poetry. The author of four poetry collections, including Wade in the Water (Graywolf Press, 2018), Smith is the Roger S. Berlind ’52 Professor in the Humanities, and Director of the Creative Writing Program, at Princeton University.
Selected Poems:
Poem 003: Bird-Understander
These are your own words
your way of noticing
and saying plainly
of not turning away
from hurt
you have offered them
to me I am only
giving them back
if only I could show you
how very useless
they are not
– Craig Arnold
Poem 004: Death And Life
’Twas in the grave-yard’s gruesome gloom
That May and I were mated;
We sneaked inside and on a tomb
Our love was consummated.
It’s quite all right, no doubt we’ll wed,
Our sin will go unchidden,
Ah! sweeter than the nuptial bed
Are ecstasies forbidden.
And as I held my sweetheart close,
And she was softly sighing,
I could not help but think of those
In peace below us lying.
Poor folks! No disrespect we meant,
And beg you’ll be forgiving;
We hopes the dead will not resent
The rapture of the living.
And when in death I, too, shall lie,
And lost to those who love me,
I wish two sweethearts roving by
Will plight their troth above me.
Oh do not think that I will grieve
To hear the vows they’re voicing,
And if their love new life conceive,
’Tis I will be rejoicing.
– Robert William Service
Poem 005: Life Is Fine
I went down to the river,
I set down on the bank.
I tried to think but couldn’t,
So I jumped in and sank.
I came up once and hollered!
I came up twice and cried!
If that water hadn’t a-been so cold
I might’ve sunk and died.
But it was Cold in that water! It was cold!
I took the elevator
Sixteen floors above the ground.
I thought about my baby
And thought I would jump down.
I stood there and I hollered!
I stood there and I cried!
If it hadn’t a-been so high
I might’ve jumped and died.
But it was High up there! It was high!
So since I’m still here livin’,
I guess I will live on.
I could’ve died for love–
But for livin’ I was born
Though you may hear me holler,
And you may see me cry–
I’ll be dogged, sweet baby,
If you gonna see me die.
Life is fine! Fine as wine! Life is fine!
– Langston Hughes
Poem 006: Finding Hope
I’ve always viewed life from the side lines,
Just watching it passing me by.
In the past, too afraid to just let go and live,
And lately too tired to try.,ss
I’ve envied the people around me
So invested in living each day,
While I spent my time hiding out from the world
And searching for ways to escape.
For most of my life I truly believed
I was here to help somebody else,
But now it’s so clear it was just an excuse.
To avoid living life for myself.
It’s sad that our lives and the pain we endure
Can weaken our strength to move on,
But if we get lost in the scars of our past,
Without knowing our lives will be gone.
It’s true, people are disappointing,
They can turn in the blink of an eye,
But we can’t avoid hurting each other,
When we all want a chance at this life.
But there’s something I’ve learned through the wisdom of age,
A truth about all of our lives,
And that is no matter what path we each take,
In the end, we just want to survive.
So the time has now come to conquer my fears
And to stand up and face a new day.
Let the hurts of my past wash away with my tears
And stop letting my life slip away.
– Pat A. Fleming
Poem 006 : Aphrodite’s Lost Daughter
With the past slipping
Out of your palm,
You stop running,
And kneel on a tarred cloud.
The boy’s voice like ache,
Still breathing in your head:
You’re too fat, oohum se eru mi.
You look at the picture on the floor,
Look at who you once were:
Arms, the size of sprinters’ batons,
Torso, the shape
Of a coca cola bottle.
You look at who you are now,
Even with rivers
In your eyes, it’s clear,
The body is a currency
For time to spend.
Oluwa mi oo, why me? Why? Why?
Your voice, a repeated question;
Forgetting, that beauty
Has many children.
You raise your head, rain
Of honking headlights pours.
– D. M. Aderibigbe.