I Say a Little More About Poetry

   So far I've been enjoying the poetry unit, because I love poetry. I've read a lot of nice poems like 'A Dream Within a Dream,' 'Still I Rise,' and 'As Soon as Fred Gets Out of Bed.' I've read a lot more poems since this unit began but those are the ones I chose to do my poetry analysis' over. The poems I tend to like the most are those dealing with subjects like the different meanings of love, enjoying life and all it has to offer, and questioning who you are and what is your purpose. I also like silly poems that are both simple and witty and make you smile and make you laugh. I just overall really like poetry. Even when I find that I don't really love or even like a poem, I still appreciate what it's saying and the insight it has to offer, because even though it doesn't really make me feel anything special, I know that it does to others because the quality of a good poem is in the eye of the beholder.
   On another note, I'm getting annoyed at having to write a poetry analysis pretty much every single day. I'm finding it hard to keep up with all of them. I love poetry but I can't come up with an entire page of analysis for every single poem that I read. Poetry has to speak to me and inspire me. I don't want to just make up some crazy nonsense in order to satisfy a teachers requirements, sorry Mr. Mullins, because it lessens the value of the authors hard work and the value of what I personally feel towards the poem. I only want to write what the poem means to me and I can't force myself to get anymore out of it then what it gives me. Again, I blame a flawed educational system for trying to shape everyone into fitting there sad generic mold.

Poetry and Music

   Since we're on the subject of poetry in this class, I'd like to talk about the similarities between a good poem and a good song.
   I've always found music in poetry and poetry in music, because they share many of the same great qualities; A rhythm, a beat, emotion and creativity. I love both of them because of the way they make me feel. Every song on my iPod gives me some kind of emotional feeling and I usually get overpowered by the music and I start singing and tapping along, even in public, so don't think I've gone insane if you see me walking down the halls swinging my hands, bobbing my head and moving my lips in silence. Anyways, within all of my music I tend to notice that at least one, or all, of the lyrics sound to me to be poetry.Take these lines from one of my favorite songs-

   Time is a valuable thing

   Watch it fly by as the pendulum swings
   Watch it count down to the end of the day
   The clock ticks life away
         -In the End, Linkin Park

   Do these lines not evoke a sense of poetry? I don't know about you, but I certainly think so. The rhythm, the rhyme, the metaphor of time, it's all poetry, just placed side by time with the singing of instruments. And I feel that poetry works in just the same way. When I read a poem that I really like, it's because it speaks to me with emotion and passion and music playing in my mind. I feel its rhythm, its beat and the truth lying on the surface and buried deep within.
   My belief is that poetry and music make us Feel and that's what makes them so wonderful.

And So Begins My Rant...

   I really love poetry, so I was looking forward to this unit, but now I'm not so sure that I'll like it. We're going to be learning how to study and analyze poems, and honestly I've always believed this to be a terrible idea. Poetry is not something that you sit together in class and learn about with a teacher. Poetry is something that you feel when you read it and when you write it. I don't like the idea of sitting there, being given a poem to read, and told to analyze it, to look for literary devices and purpose and audience, etc. You can't do this with poetry. If someone is to learn about and appreciate poetry, then they need to come to it on their own. People need to experience the desire to read poetry, they need to be in the right mood and feel the right emotions. They need to love it, not read it because the teacher forces them too.

   I also find this to be true about being assigned books to read in class. I love to read, but I hate when we are given a really good book to read in class and forced to do worksheets and essays and analyze it according to the educational systems standards. It honestly ruins the book for me and I think a lot of people feel this way. When I read a book on my own, I don't stop every five minutes to answer questions on a worksheet or write down important quotes that I may need to use later when I'm writing an essay, but I do analyze it in my mind. I study the author's technique, interpret their meaning, appreciate the way they worded something or how they used a symbol in such a great way, but I don't write it down in a 3-page-five-paragraph essay with a theme statement and claims and blah blah blah. I read books and poetry because I want to love them and study them and appreciate them. They make my life better and I hate how the educational system destroys them for me. Thus ends my rant...

Some Poetry for You

   Since Litmag was brought up today in class, I decided to share one of the poems I have submitted to it. I actually wrote this last year, but I wasn't able to submit it because I had written it after Litmag had already been published. I don't know why or how it came to me, but I've always felt that's the best kind of writing. When you have really no reason for writing, no assignment no due date, and you simply write it because it came to you. I think that's the essence of a great piece of writing because you are not writing it for any ones approval or recognition. You simply write it because it's what you feel you need to say. It's pure and it's real and it's you.

The Courage Hidden in a Leaf   

Summertime,

It hung there waving,

Green lost among green,

Indifferent to the world around it,

Simply enjoying the occasional breeze.

Then fall came,

It hung there frightened,

Brown and orange, sick and dying,

All around, his brothers falling,

But he’ll not go,

He’ll not be taken.

Winter fell,

A cold, harsh white,

Unforgiving, truly cruel,

A single leaf, on a withered tree,

Frozen over, battle lost,

A simple breeze and down he goes.

Spring arose,

For winters end,

The harsh white gone in a burst of color,

Plants re-grow and flowers bloom,

And on a tiny twig,

A hero is reborn.