DON'T WASTE MY TIME--IF YOUR POEM DON'T RHYME

I have made several silly poem writing attempts--even tried my hand at rapping. In times of trouble, writing poetry can be comforting--at least to me and less dangerous than other stress-relieving activities. I highly recommend taking a stab at poetry in your moments of distress--it can be most cathartic.

Going through my divorce, I wrote well, let's just say, what became something of an infamous poem recounting my negative feelings toward my EX. It was lengthy and, I confess, somewhat unkind. It actually sucked, empirically speaking. But one thing I can say is it rhymed. I'm certainly no poet, but it's more difficult to write a metered, rhyming poem about hating your ex husband than some free form prattling prose about the glory of the sunset or whatever.

I bow humbly before great poets who write/wrote lengthy poems that remain in a meter like iambic pentameter. I mean, you try it. Take Alexander Pope (I LOVE him). He wrote a 794-line poem, The Rape of the Lock, in couplet form, perfect meter, all about a baron clipping a lock of a beautiful girl's hair. Okay, it does go on, but you have to admire him. You don't have to understand what it means, you can get lost in the rhythm. And how did he do all that rhyming before rhymingdictionary.com?

When poetry has meter, form, rhyming, it is musical, lyrical, easier to appreciate, no matter how dull the subject matter. Other poetry is basically abbreviated prose. Sorry, non-rhyming poets--I don't get your stuff.

It's like art: Who can't appreciate the incredible beauty of Botticelli, Vermeer, Degas, Michaelangelo, and the like. I can look at it and see that it took an incredible talent to create something so deeply stunning and moving. Now, with some exceptions, I gaze around a modern art museum and, maybe I'm too concrete, but a canvas filled with swirls or squares or whatever--isn't art to me. Evokes nothing. Because it looks like something one of my boys can do. What makes it art? Look at Vermeer's Girl with a Pearl Earring--it's breathtaking--something I could never do. (Yes, I tried.) Art.

With poetry, I say:

Give me a poem with rhythm and rhyme
otherwise don't waste my precious time

Don't want to read about sheep grazing in a field
How the love in his eyes is like a sonnet revealed

The Arizona desert in the waning of the day
How your true true love tossed your heart away

Don't sit and muse on the beauty of flowers
Or the sun rising o'er the beach during early morning hours

Who cares about the tortured man pining for his youth
You'll grow up, age, and die, so face the freaking truth

So comment on my blog and tell me that I'm wrong
If no one does, next up guys is an emo folk song