Poetry

I listened to a program this morning on NPR about poetry. Diane Rehm interviewed Billy Collins and Don Hall, two former US Poets Laureate. It was an interesting program despite the fact that they were breathtakingly snobbish about poetry and other poets. For instance, they basically called Carl Sandberg a hack and said that e.e. cummings was a poet who appeals chiefly to middle schoolers. Ouch. It sounds like there is going to be a throw-down in the faculty lounge tonight! These kind of battles are probably why no one outside of English Departments cares too much about poetry. Am I wrong?

Despite the internecine politics of the English Department, I think poetry can be a real pleasure. Here is my current favorite poem. I found it in The New Yorker a few months ago. It's on our fridge door for daily inspiration. I just love it because it's so hopeful:

A Measuring Worm by Richard Wilbur

This yellow striped green
Caterpillar, climbing up
The steep window screen,

Constantly (for lack
Of a full set of legs) keeps
Humping up his back.

It's as if he sent
By a sort of semaphore
Dark omegas meant

To warn of Last Things.
Although he doesn't know it,
He will soon have wings,

And I, too, don't know
Toward what undreamt condition
Inch by inch I go.

Isn't that fantastic!! By the way, I had to look up "semaphore;" it is a flag signal or any kind of visual signal system. It makes sense because an inchworm really does make the shape of an omega when it inches along. I think this poem is about maintaining optimism that the future holds something remarkable for each of us. We don't know what Heavenly Father's plan is for any of us, but I have no doubt that there is a Plan, and that each of us has a special mission and purpose for being here. We tend to fear big life changes, especially when certain phases seem to come to an end, but really those are moments of transformation when we can become something far greater than we had ever imagined.

Here is one by the above mentioned Billy Collins. I think it is pretty funny. It reminds me of a Far Side cartoon. Man, I used to love them...in middle school. Take that Billy Collins.

Another Reason Why I Don't Keep A Gun In The House by Billy Collins

The neighbors' dog will not stop barking.
He is barking the same high, rhythmic bark
that he barks every time they leave the house.
They must switch him on on their way out.

The neighbors' dog will not stop barking.
I close all the windows in the house
and put on a Beethoven symphony full blast
but I can still hear him muffled under the music,
barking, barking, barking,

and now I can see him sitting in the orchestra,
his head raised confidently as if Beethoven
had included a part for barking dog.

When the record finally ends he is still barking,
sitting there in the oboe section barking,
his eyes fixed on the conductor who is
entreating him with his baton

while the other musicians listen in respectful
silence to the famous barking dog solo,
that endless coda that first established
Beethoven as an innovative genius.

If you want to read more poems, my friend Saydi has some awesome poetry on her blog and her 2 year old can even recite poetry by heart. Oliver can't even really talk yet. Here's to late bloomers.