There are many things to love about poetry, and I think what I love best is it's flexibility.
As a writer, you can box yourself in with a rondelle, or you can have a good-ol' ee cummings go at it and trip your words across the page. Your work can be as short as a haiku, or skirt the length of a short prose story. Endearingly, a poet can write of sorrow and pain in one poem, and on the facing page present a light-hearted and joyous romp through words and emotion. Poetry offers me the mood swings that prose is too temperate to provide.
On that note, I will be sharing two poems with you today.
The first is for my 11 year old sister, Kooky--yes that is her real name--who also goes by Kookarella, Koo, LeKoo, and occasionally, Kooks. Like me, she enjoys wordplay (our favorite joke: What is brown and sticky? A stick.), and like me, responds with laughter to things that draw groans from everyone else. With her in mind, I present the following:
A Groaner
My little sister's
name is Kooky. And for her
I write this: "Hi, Koo!"
Hahahaha--oh--am I the only one laughing? Well. Looks like my attempt was aptly named.
On the other hand, everyone has a serious side. Mine is rather stunted, and so my serious poems--when I manage to stay somber long enough to write something down--tend to be rather short. Understandably.
However, I love to read other poet's moody works. They get to do all the sad thinking, draw the sad conclusions, and share them with me. Hopefully their next page has a more uplifting work, and I am again transported back to the realm of happiness. But please don't think I am immune to melancholy (nobody's perfect, after all). Here is proof:
Through a Cafe Window
Have you ever locked eyes with
--through a window,
into a car,
where in the front seat sits--
a dog?
It looks at you
like being alone
is the saddest thing in the world.
Thanks for reading.
--Mica
I love the poems!
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