The New Birth

How beautiful poetry is!

I think I might be forgiven for this comment because I feel as if I have rediscovered poetry over the past few weeks. And I have rediscovered it a painful way.

Not only am I plowing my way through the most difficult Literature class I have ever taken, but I was also laid up with Mono. Now these two facts may seem unconnected to you so let me elaborate (I love that word).

When I signed up for Types of Lit 1, I had no thought beyond enjoying another lit class with Mrs. Phillips. I knew she would throw a few curveballs my way and I would come away from it with a new understanding of language and writing. However, in my prideful state of being a poet and with a snug feeling of having “arrived’ on some level I immediately fell on my face in shame. Our first assignment drained me dry on a poem I hated. The study questions made me look long and hard at the wording and structure. The message of strong but I found it a bit foggy because I had only given it a cursory glance. My pride in my ability to interpret poetry flew out the window as each new homework assignment knocked me down another notch. But with it I think I gained a feeling of rawness and ignorance that was healthy.

The second part of this revival of feeling toward poetry was the fact that I was laid up for about a week. Because Mono drains you of strength and you have to sleep for hours upon hours of time, I had nothing much to do for days. During that time I listened to a lot of books on tape “Gaudy Night” by Dorothy L. Sayers. This wonderful author begins every chapter of this mystery novel with a selection of poetry. This way I have been exposed to some of the greatest masters early. But anyway, the point is—I was reacquainted with some wonderful poetry I’d forgotten. And because Mrs. Sayers is such an accomplished writer, I fell in love with words once more. Simon Schama (The Historian) also aided me in this rediscovery by pointing out the beauty of art.

Now Art (as in paintings, oils, canvas and the like) shares so many similarities with writing and poetry, that when he spoke of the power of art, I couldn’t help but immediate make the connection to writing. While my body was healing, my poetry system (this is an actual bodily system---I swear!) was reset and rejuvenated.

Now I feel a little (okay, a lot) silly posting this but I am so amazed by my own reawakening that I had to get it out somehow. I cannot be the only one who has felt this way, but as with those newly in love and first time parents, I feel as if I am the only one in the world who understands this feeling.



BTW what context to you use passed and past? I might have used them incorrectly; I find I often do.

With a handshake…
Emily


I feel conpelled to post this twice.