a poetic sky…
April is National Poetry Month. Well, at this point it was national poetry month.
I don’t like poetry. I think I’ve said that before. I don’t understand meter and dactylic hexameter. I don’t get couplets or pentameter. Not to mention stichomythia nor macaronic. Rhyme schemes and stanzas seem such antiquated ideas. Ideas endorsed by cruel English Teachers.
Pastorals and odes and elegies…these are not things of the 21st century. These are relics. Ideas from a time when women and men had naught but wide open space to dream. Where thoughts could stretch and roam.
We’ve run out of space. There is no more area in which we can wander lonely as clouds on snowy evenings.
The urge to write something beautiful claws just beneath my skin. I want to shout prose from rooftops, bury it in the dirt and watch it curl lovely branches into the sky, in homage to poetry and writing.
But my soul is rusted and my spirits are dusty. As if it were a worn out country song written in the middle of a desperate lonely night.
My brother called me last night and told me I had to immediately read this poem. So I did. I liked it. So I thought I would share it with y’all. The sentiments of the poet, Samuel Ullman (1840-1924) are timely. Just a few thoughts to consider before you move on with your day.
Youth by Samuel Ullman:
Youth is not a time of life; it is a state of mind; it is not a matter of rosy cheeks, red lips and supple knees; it is a matter of the will, a quality of the imagination, a vigor of the emotions; it is the freshness of the deep springs of life.