A new adventure…

Entering the blogosphere with trepidation and curiosity.  I ask myself, as you might, “Why?” In point of fact I have been a woeful failure at all attempts to keep a journal.  Will this be any different?  Only time will tell.  My purpose is to explore and discuss poetry, what it has meant to me- the reading and the writing as well.  A little self-justification, that I am an unrepentant rhymer, who also has a place in her heart for free verse.  There will be some discussion of poetry that has been formative in my life, favorite poets, phrases that have caught my imagination, verses that I can remember from childhood when what I had for lunch is wrapped in fog. There will be other topics, too, of course, but for today, a consideration of whether poetry is enriched or weakened by rhyme.  And here I offer one of my own efforts, in two forms, with the question “Which is the better?  Which is more truly poetry?”

Memoir- A poem in two forms

 

I

 

At the back of the closet you might find

The shoes you wore to a daughter’s wedding

Or perhaps the jacket from a camping trip

with a duck call, and two cough drops in the pocket,

 

There might be

The mantilla that you wore to church

Back when you used to worship,

Or a feather boa from a long-forgotten costume party.

 

If you excavate that closet

It might swamp you with nostalgia.

Things you chose to keep

For no apparent reason.

 

Tucked away, forgotten, but not discarded.

The autobiography writes itself.

 

*        *       *        *       *

II

 

When you clean out your closet

You may find on the floor

Some things to jog your memory

Old photographs and more…

 

The jacket you wore camping

The tapes you used to play

The fancy hat you wore to church

Back when you used to pray

 

The things you thought you cherished

Or worked and saved to buy

Then all too sadly tired of

So quickly cast aside.

 

The things  that you’ve lost track of

Grow dusty on the shelf

So while you are not looking

Your memoir writes itself.

 

 

When you clean out your closet

You may find on the floor

Some things to jog your memory

Old photographs and more…

 

The jacket you wore camping

The tapes you used to play

The fancy hat you wore to church

Back when you used to pray

 

The things you thought you cherished

Or worked and saved to buy

Then all too sadly tired of

So quickly cast aside.

 

The things  that you’ve lost track of

Grow dusty on the shelf

So while you are not looking

Your memoir writes itself.

 

*           *          *

I will continue to ask this question and to compare other poems and other poets to analyze and learn my craft, a journey of enjoyment!

 

 

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