Poetry lesson

 

When I was at school I dreaded that look

“Get out your texts and your poetry book”.

First it was style and how it did scan,

Then it was rhythm and how the words ran.

Next it was meaning; the poet’s precision

And finally context and critical vision.

But why, oh! why reader dear

Couldn’t they make everything clear?

What was it for? Improving knowledge?

Learning ‘bout life at the poetry college.

Why not write in a simpler way?

Ditch the rhymes along the way.

Say what you want for me to read

Direct meanings to perceive.

It can’t be too hard to be more direct

Just cut out the poetry and leave what’s left.

But now I’m older, and a little wiser,

I too am now a word improviser

Communications’ now quite hard

Many channels avant-garde

‘Cos of all the various media

Radio, TV, Pod casts feed ya

Images, ideas, and content

Sometimes comic, sometimes hell-bent.

In one ear and out the other.

Like a baby to its mother,

We simply soak up what we want,

A kind of literary détente.

Just like poetry used to be,

Taking what is right for me.

Rhyming, scanning, meaning,

Wordplay, imagery and feeling.

It might be love or misbelieving

Could be evil or even dreaming.

The beauty of this style adore

If written well, we all crave more.

It’s like a drug; our senses it takes to happiness

The comfort of the rhymes our ears caress.

Like an old friend or stokéd cat

The rhymes possess us, and that is that.

The whole is greater than its parts;

Truly a zeitgeist of the arts.