But here I must digress, for certainly a good number of readers will think "Poems? Who wants to read poems these days? It's all about manga and vampire novels!"
Yes, perhaps poetry has passed its heyday, despite the admirable efforts in the past few decades of the likes of Hallmark, Maya Angelou, Shel Silverstein, and Billy Collins. Most average readers (I refer to you and me) gained negative connotations of poetry from the of long, dull epics we were made to read in school. Sure, we learned to appreciate Homer or Chaucer or Spencer or Milton or Shakespeare. However, when one must spend so much time deciphering the meaning of archaic words and obscure references, we feel rather disinclined to read such stuff for pleasure. The enjoyment of such is (surely) reserved for the literati who think themselves so above the common working class person, and the creation of the same is (surely) a vanity of the idle elite.
If we have not this perception, the term "poetry" may evoke wariness such as we feel toward the disturbing, gothic works of poets like Poe and Lovecraft, or the "avante guarde" oddities newer poets dish up ("newer" including e.e. cummings up to current high school poets) written in free verse or unpunctuated, seeming-nonsense that may convey an impressionistic scene, a confused kaleidoscope image, or a random collage. Other readers view modern poetry as stuck-up prose--narration or description separated onto lines in imitation poetry that really . . . isn't. (Surely it doesn't qualify. Right? I mean, we can deal with no rhyming, but description without rhythm? "Poetry"? Really? Tch!)
So what I meant to ponder was who would want to buy--let alone read--another book on (ugh!) poetry? I fear I have no defense for poetry but my own interest (vanity?); modern poetry can still "teach and delight." Its incarnations may encompass light reading for an evening's amusement or deeper reading for a morning meditation or encouragement for the rainy days in our hearts. (Do we not still read Psalms on such occasions?) Personal taste will dictate our preferred forms and subjects and--well, whether we read poems at all. But let not prejudice blind our eyes and deafen our ears to poetry, and we may one day find a poem that knocks on the door of our heart (or funny bone, depending).
As I was saying before I so rudely interrupted myself, I had this concept for a book of poems, tentatively titled Expressing Existence: Poems about Life and Emotions. My idea was to have as many emotions as possible written up in poems--sonnets, odes, villanelles, ballads, limericks, haiku, acrostics, free verse--whatever seems to fit a given emotion. While expressing an emotion, they would also express an aspect of life often associated with that emotion. I've included a few of the completed ones below (vanity!). Would people care for such as these? I wonder.
Life (A haiku to possibly preface said volume.)
Come shade, sun, or storm,
We alone choose grin or groan.
Can weather force us?
Grief (Free verse)
A blithe approach
A bloody pool
A familiar furry shape.
Shock.
Incredulity.
Then, in quick succession,
Doubt followed by pain,
Pain followed by rage,
Rage followed by shame,
Shame followed by loneliness,
And tears.
Many tears.
Fear (Free-ish verse--Eight trochaic dimeters ending with two iambic dimeters aren't a standard verse style that I know of.)
Stealthy noises
In the darkness
Coming nearer,
Ever nearer.
Eyes grow bigger,
Breathing catches,
Heart rate quickens,
Muscles quiver.
I long to run.
It comes! It comes!
P.S. I'm currently working to turn the poem "Happiness" into a sonnet, but such a strict form is difficult to work with, so I'll have to complete and upload it later. Woo! I'm writing this far too late at night (1:18 am)!
P.P.S. Well, it seems my only late-night error (that I can detect) lies in how I originally posted this to the Coon Family Gathering blog. Clearly this error has been rectified. Now for bed!
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