Words

Last night, along with my poetry group Word Weavers, I read at the library for our annual celebration of National Poetry Month.  It was a nice evening.  There were 13 of us who read, and we enjoyed sharing some poems with others.  We missed one of our own, but know that she was there listening. 

Once again, and I know I've covered this subject on a few occasions . . . I was reminded of the true changing power of words.  The range of emotions I feel when I listen to, or read someone's words.  The way I can oddly feel . . . understood.  This time around, my boys didn't even ask to go out to the restroom, get books, etc.  They were caught up in it as well.  Their faces sometimes silent as they listened to the images, the rhythm.  A couple of times they even laughed outloud. 

As for me, reading second was a blessing.  I got the scary part over early on, and was able to sit back and enjoy the poems.  Here is a poem that I particularly enjoyed, and so did my children.

Introduction to Poetry

Billy Collins

I ask them to take a poem
and hold it up to the light
like a color slide

or press an ear against its hive.

I say drop a mouse into a poem
and watch him probe his way out,

or walk inside the poem's room
and feel the walls for a light switch.

I want them to waterski
across the surface of a poem
waving at the author's name on the shore.

But all they want to do
is tie the poem to a chair with rope
and torture a confession out of it.

They begin beating it with a hose
to find out what it really means.