During this monthlong survey of poetry, there is trouble.
So many decisions to make.
What should I teach today?
Line breaks,
literary elements,
limericks?
I want to say stop to
sing-song rhymes
and simple forms.
Then one turns to another and says,
“Let’s write a rap abecedarian.”
Like the messiness of art class,
the instructor must allow
for paint splatters and stains,
for stalled-out cinquains
and skip-to-my-loos.
Poetry is hard.
Poetry is easy.
There are rules in poetry.
There are no rules:
Let the poem find its way.
This is the trouble with poetry.
This is the joy of poetry.
–Margaret Simon
Follow the Progressive Poem to Charles Waters.
Reflections on the Teche 