There is a reason why among all the genres of literature, I love poetry the most. I find it fascinating because it involves a few words that convey a world of meaning and also because, unlike the other genres, I've not been able to master the inner workings of it. Sure, I've written a few poems and in the past, it was the quickest and rawest way I could communicate my feelings. When I had pent-up emotions of joy, sadness, and anger... especially anger, I'd whip up my diary and write blindly. Without thinking but certainly with a lot of feeling.
And when I'd be done with ranting my heart out with words, it's like the scales will fall from my eyes, and I'll see the art in front of me. Of course, it only looked beautiful in my eyes, and since I knew I wouldn't let anyone see the words I'd written, I couldn't get any opinions on whether it was a good poem or not. However, a time came when a heartfelt poem of mine that reflected rage was discovered and not in a good way. That was the day I stopped using poems as an outlet for my emotions. But I love it still.
Which is why when I saw William Wordsworth's definition of poetry as a “spontaneous overflow of powerful emotions recollected in tranquillity,” I got it. The first part anyway. Poetry is one genre that is usually the most spontaneous. There are different types of poetry where you've got to carefully structure it so it can come out the way it's supposed to. But I've always been a free-verse girl. The others are amazing, but the rawness that comes with just letting loose without thinking of the rhyme scheme or meter speaks volumes.
I have two more definitions of poetry by popular authors that I love.
~ Poetry is the art of uniting pleasure with truth, by calling imagination to the aid of reason.~ Samuel Johnson
~ Poetry is the language of the heart, the language of the soul, the language of the innermost thoughts and feelings of mankind.~ Henry Longfellow
It's deep but you can get the general idea of what poetry means. The rawest of feelings that involve the baring of the heart and the soul. It's beautiful stuff, honestly.
So, if I wanted to describe poetry, not define because I don't think anyone can define poetry in its entirety but you can describe it and I describe poetry as "A way with words that bares the heart and hints at the soul." I felt complete describing it like this. It's not the totality of poetry but that's what it means to me.
When it comes to my favorite poets, I can't say I have a favorite. I do have a few poems that I've enjoyed reading beyond measure. But for the authors, I don't exactly know who to pick even if I tried. I love realistic poems. Poems that talk about life, love, friendship, soul, humanity, and the world at large. I love poems that reflect people and whatever struggles they go through. That kind of stuff speaks to me.
There's this poem by Emily Dickinson I love. The title is “Friendship.” It's a short poem, so permit me to highlight it here...
“A Friendship — is a solemn Thing —
It is not frail — like a Flower —
Nor pale — like a hue —
Nor faint — like a sigh —
It is not fragile — like a vase —
Nor fleeting — like a song —
Nor brittle — like a spar —
Nor weak — like a reed —
It is potent — as a Sun —
Warm — as a Summer’s day —
Sturdy — as a Rock —
Enduring — as an Epoch —
It is faithful — as a Star —
Gentle — as a Summer’s Breeze —
Firm — as a Mountain’s base —
It is — eternal — as the Sky —
And so — it shall forever be —
For — Friendship — is a sacred Thing —
And — Love — is — supreme —”
You don't have to look far to know what this poem means. It speaks of the beauty but more than that the eternity of friendship, comparing it to the sturdiness of a rock and the potency of the sun. I remember smiling deeply when I read this poem for the first time. I didn't need a seer to let me know that Emily must have known the real value of friendship. It's become one of my favorite poems. A last one before I end is a poem by Rabindranath Tagore titled “A Gift.”
“This life is a gift,
Given to us to make of it what we will.
It is a fleeting chance,
To love, to share, to learn, to grow.
In this brief span of mortal life,
We find our highest joy in love.
For love is the only force
That can make life’s fleeting moments precious.
And so, my friend, let us cherish
Every moment we share with love.
For in the end, it is not what we have
But who we have loved that makes life precious.”
I read a poem like this, and it leaves me feeling filled. Filled with happiness. With love and with hope. Because I do think life is a gift, and the attitude of love and gratitude is the best way to go about it. Poems, whether sad, happy, hopeful, angry are beautiful in their way, and I respect poets who are courageous enough to share their writings, amidst the threat of criticisms of whatever form.
And even those who don't share but are bold enough to pen it down deserve their flowers as well...
Jhymi🖤
This amazing initiative is courtesy of the #JuneInleo Prompts.
Image is mine.
