Reflection on Poetry

21 05 2010

I’ve never really had deep feelings toward poetry in general. It sat there, and I sat there looking at it. I didn’t really care. But as I’ve started trying to write my own poetry, I’ve noticed a new appreciation for those who write good poetry. I like to read it and understand its meanings, but I still am not that great of a writer.

 I like to write haikus. They are easy and it’s fun to try and count syllables. It takes me back to days in elementary school, when I would count syllables for homework…ah, the good old days. I think I like haikus the most, because they are short, or can be short at times. It’s simple, and easy, but they can also hold a lot of meaning and description to draw a picture.

I really enjoy reading free verse, but I hate writing free verse. I feel lost when I try to write free verse. I prefer to have a set amount of lines, syllables, or adjectives. Without rules to follow I’m not sure exactly what to write about and I don’t like feeling unsure about myself and my writing. Maybe I enjoy reading free verse so much because I can’t do it myself. I respect the authors more because I feel like they understand something I’ve missed. The authors seem to enjoy a sense of freedom in free verse that I enjoy.

The one thing about poetry that I don’t like is that when reading it, sometimes I have absolutely no idea what the author is talking about. Maybe they are just being abstract, but I don’t like to just read random words that don’t seem to mean anything when put together. Emily Dickenson is probably my least favorite writer of poetry. I know she is supposedly a master, but I don’t relish in her writing. That probably makes me swine for saying that, but oh well, I’ll just stick with Shel Silverstein.

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