The Panic of Poetry
This isn't a test
I get that the knee-jerk reaction for a swath of people to the word poetry is a cross between intimidation and panic. I remember feeling that too—especially in Junior High. My English teacher wore plaid shorts with tights and always asked us to tell her what a certain poem Meant, with a capital M.
I don’t recall ever getting the answer right.
But, let’s all think of this a different way. Imagine you’re looking out at the ocean from the white sand beach in Florida or that you’re nearing the summit of a mountain with carpets of wildflowers spread out under your feet or you’re piling up the leaves in your yard and it looks like gold or you see the first glimpse of a gold crocus blooming in spring.
Now imagine someone asks you, “What does it mean?”
It’s kind of a silly question, and I would guess that it wouldn’t bother you in the least if you didn’t have an answer.
The answer is: it’s just beautiful.
Beautiful things are beautiful. They don’t need a reason or an answer or an explanation.
That’s how I feel about poetry. Reading poetry is just like seeing something beautiful. It doesn’t need an explanation or an answer.
You can read it and say to yourself, “This part was especially beautiful.”
No other expertise required.
In honor of National Poetry Month, I want to share some of my favorite poetry collections. But if that thought induces panic, just think to yourself, Jes wants to show me some beautiful things.
First up, Heart in a Jar by Kathleen McGookey.
I love this book. It’s something I pick up over and over when I want to feel connected to the divine, when I want to feel like my story is part of the whole human story.
Here are a few lines from a few poems throughout the book that are just beautiful:
Whale bones litter the only sky
The pregnant skunk moves into the dollhouse—it is available—then nibbles hard-boiled eggs at the table set for three
The mice let me crochet spiderwebs into a necklace for my teacher
The star was dying, but I bought it anyway from the shop that sold used things
The monkeys inside me are sick of speaking the wrong language
My heart has fetched the stick so many times it does not feel like my heart anymore
I love the sort of magical, surreal, bittersweet way Kathleen McGookey puts words together. I can imagine bringing a star home, letting a skunk live in a dollhouse, crocheting spiderwebs. And they all feel like beautiful things. Things that help me feel like someone understands me, even though I can’t tell you with any sort of certainty what McGookey means by those phrases.
She is an absolute master of the prose poem. This particular book grew out of a moment in her life where she was thick in kid-raising while also confronting the aging of her parents and then the death of her father. The poems are quirky, heartfelt, and gorgeous. They are beautiful pictures you can look at again and again. Highly recommend.
Format: Paperback
Genre: Prose Poetry
My Rating: 5 out of 5 stars
Read it if: You think you don’t like or understand poetry. Or you’re a mom (or dad) with complicated feelings about literally everything. Or you’ve ever wanted to hide under a desk at an elementary school Halloween party.
Steer clear if: You don’t have a heart.
Loved this. And as someone who writes a lot of lyrics, I relate to it wholeheartedly.
Poet George Bilgere has a daily poem subscription. Those who sign up, like me, get a daily poem and why George chose it. I don't always read them everyday, though I love the idea of starting each morning that way...
Eventually I search George Bilgere in my email box and spend a half an hour or so getting caught up. It's a wonderful gift to give oneself.