Emily Dickinson wrote the following:
If I read a book and it makes
my whole body so cold no fire can
warm me, I know that is poetry.
If I feel physically as if the
top of my head were taken off,
I know that is poetry. These are the
only ways I know it. Is there
any other way?
I am not Emily Dickinson.
I am a humble poet wannabe.
If I read a book and it makes no sense
to me on my first reading,
then I know that is poetry.
If I read a book and it makes
me feel like an idiot,
then I know that is poetry.
If I find new meanings
each time I read again,
then I know that is poetry.
For me, reading poetry is a sacred ritual.
Sometimes I grasp the theme and meaning.
Sometimes I feel the author’s thoughts.
Sometimes I need assistance to understand.
Sometimes I utterly misunderstand.
But I have worked hard
to learn how to read poetry.
I read books, took courses,
even used artificial intelligence
to analyze what I have read.
Little by little, I am improving.
Now I know the role of rhyme and rhythm,
the devices poets weave into their lines.
Sometimes I come across words
strung together like
an exquisite pearl necklace,
reminding me that
even prose can become poetry.
