While our emotion remains a literary constant, the rhythm of understanding poetry is off. Too many people resist poetry. That is until they finally hear the written words. I am amused at this constant theme: I tell someone that I am a poet; they say they hate poetry; I read a poem to my skeptical acquaintance; and they fall in love. I am convinced that unless you read poetry aloud, you are missing the essence of the craft, the place where hearing meets the heart and informs vision and imagination.
To writers and lovers of poetry:
Fan the flames of our passion! Let your love and your voice; your rhythm and rhyme, your style and flow inform those around you and beyond.
To members of the poetry resistance:
The next time you find yourself in a state of poetic opposition, take a moment to read a poem aloud; may it change you forever.
Rhythm
A bare pulse waves politely
summoning our attention to the details
of how we live and why we love.
Love;
the measure of our lives lay in an undiluted dimension;
a space where we have the only reservation.
Life;
exacting responses to the biography
we created within the tine allowed
propels in and around us;
with and without us;
and we remain amazed and inspired
as we scale the timing and depths
of our life and our love.
From “Pillow Talk: Poems, 2010 © Camille Gray. All rights reserved.
