Along with National Soft Pretzel Month, another of April’s assigned titles is “National Poetry Month”. I have always loved poetry. One of my early favorites was in junior high school when I read the haunting and beautiful “Annabel Lee” by Edgar Allan Poe. It was originally published in 1849 and was the last complete poem composed by Poe.
I still remember some of the lines –
But we loved with a love that was more than love
I and my Annabel Lee
With a love that the wingèd seraphs of Heaven
Coveted her and me
Of course early on, I loved all of the great American poets; Robert Frost, Emily Dickinson, Langston Hughes, Edna St. Vincent Millay…
My candle burns at both ends;
It will not last the night
But ah, my foes, and oh, my friends –
It gives a lovely light!
My son, Andrew, referenced in my April 1 blog, has introduced more contemporary poets to me; Kay Ryan, Christian Wiman, Robert Bringhurst…
Love means love of the thing sung, not of the song or the singing.
These poems, she said…
You are, he said,
That is not love, she said rightly.
One of the first poems I remember recording (hand-written) in a book is entitled “Sweet Anticipation”. It is composed from a 20 year old woman-girl’s perspective of being pregnant and anticipating seeing, holding, smelling, loving her firstborn baby.
We did not know the sex of our first child. However, I must have known because I wrote out this poem in just a few minutes when I was about five months pregnant.
I saw some shiny roller skates I’d like to buy you, Andy
And a little shovel with a pail
To make my carpet sandy.
Your daddy found a short golf club he said would suit you fine
And a baseball cap for your sweet head
To block the bright sunshine.
Maybe it seems we’re rushing things, impending the event
Cause you’re still up in heaven
Waiting to be sent.
Sweet, simple, straightforward, but oh, so very gushing from my heart.
Isn’t that what poetry is ~ a cutting open of the heart and spilling its contents onto paper?