Why Poetry?

Why do I have a hankering for poetry? What am I craving?

It's not Walt Whitman.

I scoured my bookshelves for other kinds and found some Shel Silverstein. That was fun to read out loud with the kids. Robert took it with him to bed. But it didn't scratch my poetry itch.

I rediscovered some poetry by Bobby's maternal grandmother, Celia the Great. That was more what I was looking for:

Singing Silence

Yes, all the world 
Has gone to bed,
And so should I
And yet, 
There was magic silence singing,
And I would sing in silence, too.

(Published Helen Reese, ed., An Anthology of Fraternity and Sorority Verse, The Greek Letter, (New York: Henry Harrison, 1940), 123.)

And this one from a book of poetry she gave her future husband on Valentine's Day 1940:

I love you when laughter
Sparkles in your eyes,
And tinkles round us
And even the wind laughs.
But I love you best
When we stand, gravely,
Side by side,
Finding beauty too deep for words.

And I revisited the Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows for a couple of my favorites. Here's one:


midding

v. intr. feeling the tranquil pleasure of being near a gathering but not quite in it—hovering on the perimeter of a campfire, chatting outside a party while others dance inside, resting your head in the backseat of a car listening to your friends chatting up front—feeling blissfully invisible yet still fully included, safe in the knowledge that everyone is together and everyone is okay, with all the thrill of being there without the burden of having to be.

The creator of the Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows said this, "I think the act of naming something implies, very simply, that you’re not alone. We give names to things so we can talk about them. Once there’s a word for an experience, it feels contained somehow—and the container has a handle, which makes it much easier to pick up and pass around. Kinda comforting."

And I think that's what I'm looking for in this poetry hunt: 1) proof that others have felt the things I feel and 2) beautiful containers with handles.

Comfort, empathy, feeling understood...that's poetry.