Posts Tagged ‘What is poetry?’

Poetry Friday round-up is with Catherine at Reading to the Core.

Last week when I hosted Poetry Friday, I asked readers to write a line or two answering the question “What is Poetry?” To create this crowsourced poem, I printed out the lines and cut them up and played with the arrangement like a child with a new puzzle. It was fun. My writing group helped me fit in everyone’s contribution.

Photo by Michael Goyberg from Pexels

What is Poetry?
crowdsourced poem by Poetry Friday bloggers

A poem is a whisper of words
that opens a secret door
and invites you to walk through,
a song your heart sings.

Poetry is
our quickening
to the life-song pulsing in us
and through us, a leaf fluttering
in the breeze, waves crashing,
a glimpse into another soul.

Poetry balances our soul
and begs our action,
a pratfall or a lift,
beauty never before shown,
truth never before known.

Poetry is a whisper of life, 
distilled essence,
an echo full of vibrancy and emotion,
fed by the waters of creativity.

Poetry is a sudoku of words infused
with energy, story, and song;
words arranged to nourish the soul,
truth at a slant put to music.

Poetry is a hidden treasure
voicing what is inside
and ready to soar outward, 
a butterfly caught in my net, 
then released.

Poetry is concentrated language,
our very best words
squeezed into tight spaces
creating an essential spark,
a kiss, a blessing,
the lake dancing with the sunrise…
And on
and on
and on!

Contributors include: Jan Annino, Michelle Kogan, Linda Mitchell, Molly Hogan, Mary Lee Hahn, Linda Kulp Trout, Little Willow, Fran Haley, Matt Forrest Esenwine, Carol Varsalona, Karen Edmisten, Alan J. Wright, Irene Latham, Catherine Flynn, Tim Gels, Janice Scully, Laura Purdie Salas, Ramona Behnke, Janet Fagel.

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Poetry Friday round-up  with Donna at Mainly Write

Poetry Friday round-up with Donna at Mainly Write

Live oak reaches out

Where does a poem come from?
From play with words?
Intention of language?
Simply throwing confetti to the wind?

A poem takes shape
whether I am present or not.
Some days the muse is mine.
Others I merely stroke the fire
waiting for the flame to ignite.

William Stafford said I should kneel
in the deep earth and dig.*

I kneel.
I pray.
I sing.
Then I open my notebook,
lay my pen against soft paper,
and wriggle these fingers.

A gift is given.
I will not let go.
–Margaret Simon

I’ve been thinking about where poems come from and whether the joy is in the process or in the product. I don’t know the answer. But I enjoy asking the question.

Kevin Hodgson sent out postcards. I got one and added my given word on the padlet he created. In this instance, the process was the fun. The sending and receiving of postcards in the real mailbox was exciting. None of us are really quite sure what the product means, but we all agree it’s cool.

* “Successful people cannot find poems; for you must kneel down and explore for them.”
–William Stafford.

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