Let me just start by saying: IT'S NaNoWriMo MONTH! This year I vow to finish, although I've gotten off to a slow start. It's the 4/11/'10 today and I have only written near 2000 words. I have never finished a NaNoWriMo before; I found it last year and only got to 35000 words. But NaNoWriMo isn't what I want to talk about today.
Poetry - In English I've started learning about poetry, (again, I have done it in the past) but I always thought I hated poetry, I thought that if it didn't rhyme then it wasn’t a poem and couldn’t be classified as poetry because I thought it was just shotty and scrappy and didn’t make any sense.
I was wrong – really wrong – You need to have a complete open mind while reading poetry, and really put yourself in the poet’s position (This really only applies to pre 19C poetry but I guess it’s still relevant with anything). If you put yourself in their position and ignore the fact that you are against feminists and against religion or whatever, and just see what they see, you begin to realize that these poets who wrote in the time they did were some of the wisest people and were taking on the questions and emotions that define us.
I’m studying Christina Rossetti, I think although her poems are about religion – she was a very religious person and grew up with it – She write about femininity and about how men are evil, firstly in the Victorian Era women WERE treated badly, as much as I disagree with that today, back then it would have been hard for her, and secondly men ARE evil – I don’t mean that literally just think about it and I think you’ll agree –. Her poems are fruitful and beautiful and for those people who think that poetry is for angst-ridden teens, hopeless romantics and the aforementioned weirdos in berets, those people clearly have little understanding about tackling something from an objectivist’s perspective.
Poetry isn’t bound to the depressing emo poetry you write in middle school, as soon as you deconstruct it, you realize that it is a lot harder and more complex than just rhyming words.
Poetry, good poetry that is, bites and stings. It arouses your senses. It burns a hole in your brain. It stimulates your imagination. You think, "I never thought it like that before." Yet, It (whatever it is) was always there for everyone to see. A fork in the road - some snow in the woods at night - some gold rushers slugging it out in a Yukon saloon… the difference is the view that the writer brings to the reader. And that has made all the difference ages.