More Poetry Shenanigans

This seems appropriate considering we're currently experiencing an April snowstorm.

I'm a big fan of Emily. Her poems are just obtuse enough to make a person think but they aren't

insurmountable. I also like that you can sing most of them since they are written in "common metre." Basically, all this means is that you can match most of her poems to a ton of songs. Most people just stick with the theme from Gilligan's Island though. (Give it a try. You'll be glad you did!! It's not an ideal match to this poem but "Because I could not stop for Death" works a treat.)

Here's the thing, lots of folks get stuck on the narrative of Dickinson as a shut in. Apparently (and this is very different from when I studied her in school and college), the newest theory is that Dickinson was a closeted lesbian. In fact, I did not know this was even a talking point until very recently. I'm not sure it matters. I think the thing that DOES matter is how much observational verse Dickinson wrung from what most people consider a very limited relationship to the world outside her immediate sphere. Her inner world must have been intensely fascinating.

I especially like the opening of this poem. Maybe because this is one of those poems that took me a while to figure out. Largely. . . my confusion stemmed from the word "leaden" I wasn't thinking of a dull gray colored sifter/sieve when I first read this. My mind went to the other meaning of the word. . . that being something heavy and onerous. English is such a jerk like that.

I also like that most of Dickinson's poems are short. I'm all about the short poem. I want the message. I want it now. I do not want to wade through words. . . .I'd read prose if that were the case. I also like how neat the poem is. It looks controlled and ordered on the page. Now, I'm not saying that being orderly is a requirement for poetry. Some of my favorite poems are a visual trainwreck. However, sometimes it's nice for all the poetic ducks to be in a row.

And THAT brings me to one of my points about the glories of poetry. It can, literally, be anything. You can read (or write--if you're feeling brave) poetry that is highly structured with lots of rules. You can veer off into freeverse land. If you need a break from anything too intellectual, a nice concrete (the poem makes a picture--usually) poem is just the thing. Feeling ragey? A spoken-word spout off is highly cathartic. Poetry is both language at its most refined and it's most chaotic. I love that.