A glimpse inside my head (ah, that’s sorta scary).

Oooh fie! The ides of March have come and gone without even so much as a sigh. I can hardly believe another year is moving along so quickly, that my daughter is now three and a half years old. Time indeed seems to be a mystery. Elusive. Confusion, somewhat frightening in its intangibleness. Which leads me, of course, to poetry:

–noun
1. the art of rhythmical composition, written or spoken, for exciting pleasure by beautiful, imaginative, or elevated thoughts.
2. literary work in metrical form; verse.
3. prose with poetic qualities.
4. poetic qualities however manifested: the poetry of simple acts and things.
5. poetic spirit or feeling: The pianist played the prelude with poetry.
6. something suggestive of or likened to poetry: the pure poetry of a beautiful view on a clear day.

Origin:
1350–1400; ME poetrie < ML poētria poetic art, deriv. of poēta poet, but formation is unclear; prob. not < Gk poiētria poetess

—Related forms: po·et·ry·less, adjective

—Synonyms: POETRY, VERSE agree in referring to the work of a poet. The difference between POETRY and VERSE is usually the difference between substance and form. POETRY is lofty thought or impassioned feeling expressed in imaginative words: Elizabethan poetry. VERSE is any expression in words, which simply conforms to accepted metrical rules and structure: the differences between prose and verse.

—Antonyms: prose.
(Source: http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/poetry)

Let’s face it, poetry has a bad rap. About the worst. Ooooh fancy schmancy. Too hard to understand. Vague, aloof, only for intellectual snobs like my uncle (sorry but I do love you), Oleg or anyone who reads the New Yorker (so busted). Ah hem (don’t forget): poetry is only read by poets, scholars, or other elite academe! Fuck that. Poetry is a heartbeat put down on paper. It is “time” captured and spit out onto a paper or electronic canvas with a pen or computer or friggin’ old and worn out typewriter (wouldn’t it be SO romantic to use a typewriter? If only I weren’t such an incredibly lazy speller – I heart Spell Check). OMG I’m already over my word count. I haven’t said anything yet! Arrgh. Let me cry a million+ tears for poetry.

If only it could be taken out of Academia and put back into the souls. That’s where it belongs. Not in some workshop where you’re told Right or Wrong or Sucky or ‘Ah, you shouldn’t even try it’. No, no! Poetry is really the everyone of writing. It’s intangible like time itself, it is simply a glimpse, a shimmer, and a sense of story that alludes to or tells you a story in tight, neat lines. I once had an MFA teacher who said I should never write. “You are so bad, you should really just stop. It’s embarrassing really.” Nice. Woman hater, it can’t be that I’m that bad. Or maybe I am. Regardless. It’s passion. It’s my passion. I might as well kick it. Because it is that thing that kicks in me. Ooooooh so happy to write about my true love (other than Sophie my baby and Susan my partner). Thanks for stopping in. Let’s learn together. Let’s bring poetry back! (sung to the tune of Sexy Back).

Later! Jen