With the frigid temperatures cooling much of the country, it’s always a good time to concentrate on warmer distractions. How about Spring … the growing season, a season of lush green plants and succulent fruits. That’s actually one of the things I love about seasons: I don’t mind snow or heat or rain for a brief period, because when I begin to feel impatient with certain seasonal elements, I know I can always look forward to the change I know is coming.
In the comments section of a recent post, a fellow-blogger admitted he was “not a big fan of poetry.” He said: “It hurts my head too much to figure it [a poem] out.” Thankfully, he also said he liked the sonnet in that particular post; he understood the metaphor I used.
Many readers (whether online or otherwise) echo this blogger’s general aversion for poetry. I wonder if it has anything to do with high school literature classes where we were taught by teachers who may have detested poetry themselves? (Just a thought.)
Truthfully, I sympathize with Doobster418‘s honest admission. Poetry is often obscure, frustrating and at its extremes, just plain balderdash!
When I write a poem, I attempt to paint a picture, sketch an image, or in some cases, capture a universal concept/feeling with which people will easily identify. (I’m not suggesting my method is any better than any other poet’s; it’s simply the path that makes sense to me.)
Today’s sonnet is designed as a challenge for both poet and reader. Even though poetry strives to engage one’s intellect, poetry succeeds best when it also engages one’s sensual imagination. See if this one does it for you.