It Should Be Easy

April is National Poetry Month. Let me greet you here with lines of my own design...

Two tattered hearts
Each quiet with wear,
Each still wondering
If love's waiting there.

It feels finished to me. I'm fond of its conciseness and of what it doesn't say, yet others have cried out for more. If you feel strongly compelled to add to these lines I'll post them here!

On the face of it, poetry should be easy to write. It possesses far less words than most short stories. That is, unless you're of the Beowulf persuasion... 

They have seen my strength for themselves,
Have watched me rise
from the darkness of war,
Dripping with my enemies' blood.
I drove five great giants into chains,
Chased all of that race from the earth.
I swam in the blackness of night,
hunting monsters out of the ocean,
And killing them one by one;
Death was my errand
and the fate they had earned.
Now Grendel and I are called together,
And I've come.  

There are another 3173 lines to this classic of Anglo Saxon literature. I think we can call it an anomaly.

Unlike a mystery, poetry doesn't require red herrings be dropped at every corner. Some poets even find it unnecessary to tie up the loose ends that would wildly irritate readers of the mystery genre. 

Is this how the term poetic license came to be? Believed to have been put into usage between 1780 and 1790, it basically allows lovers of words to follow their heart's desire without dragging the baggage of rules and expectations with them. Write utter nonsense, claim poetic license and all wisely nod, "Ahh...of course." 

There once was a girl with no fanny,
Who had a hard time getting tanny.
The problem was that
Her backside was flat,
And the rays of the sun hit uncanny. 

As many swear they can't understand poetry, one can also be as obscure as they like. Your audience will simply feel they aren't on par with your brilliance or with poetry in general. You sail on your merry way, leaving it to critics and scholars to debate your meaning. I'm quite sure this was the intention of Laura Riding Jackson in her Elegy in a Spider's Web...

Photo by Mike Hall, My Shot

Oh pity poor pretty
How thorough life love
No matter space spider
How horrid reality
What to say when
What when
Who cannot
How cease
The knowing of always...
 
To read the entire poem, click here

I now must go,
Cause I say so.
There's more to tell
It will be jolly swell.
So return soon,
Less you think me a loon.

There is truly more to say on this subject but I now must...well, you read the poem. Stay tuned my friends.