I promise I'll really update soon. This is from Andrew Peterson's journal (he's one of my favorite artists), on poetry! (one of my favorite arts!). I thought it was a good word-- the whole three-read-through rule. Y'all can check out his actual poem at his website. =D
I'm off to Brushy Creek Elementary for "Marsha Tate Workshop," whatever that means, after a morning of computer-nerdiness (yay for being the computer-girl) and washing whiteboards and dusting keyboards.
--THE Sue Cleveland Elementary Teaching Intern
A Poem on a Plane
Aug 7, 2006
Well, folks, this one may be a little strange to you.
I've never posted any poetry before (except for all the limericks on the MySpace blog). Poetry intimidates me, and whenever I read it I spend most of the time feeling dumb.
Someone (can't remember who) bought me an antique book called The Works of Tennyson, and I loved it, mainly because it rhymed. Call me simple, but being a songwriter, that's the poetry I like the most--stuff that rolls off the tongue in a way that just feels right. (Tolkien was a genius at that.) I'm also partial to Shel Silverstein's children's books. I practically memorized Where the Sidewalk Ends when I was a kid.
On a flight coming back from Denmark last year I finished Leif Enger's Peace Like a River and (after I wiped my eyes and blew my nose) I still had four hours of flying left to go. So I borrowed Ben's copy of Wendell Berry's collected poems. I downright revere the guy's writing, so I was excited to see how the poetry hit me. And? It fell flat. Until I read it again. And again. I sat there and made myself read each poem two or three times through, out-loud. (I was on a plane, so I could whisper them to myself and nobody noticed.) I even got out my Moleskine journal and scribbled a few of them down.
Approaching the poems that way completely changed the experience. With the ever-growing list of novels that I have piling up, I doubt I'll ever be a poetry aficionado, but I'm going to start squeezing it in more often. I bought Berry's Sabbath Poems last week, and the ol' triple re-read worked again.
So. I say all that to say that this poem is, by any poetry major's standards, LAME. I was on a plane to Florida (I think), alone, and wanted to use my time wisely. This is what came out, for better or worse. It was just sitting on my hard drive and I don't have time to write a full-on essay tonight (it's 2 am), so I thought I'd share it.
Here we go.