Poetry Centers the Heart
I don’t know if it was
the fever
or the simple beauty
of the words.
Words with sounds and
images
floated in and out of
my dream-like state.
Pictures of
swings flying high, owls and
pussycats.
The splendor enveloped
my heart as
a close, tight, a comforting
warm cocoon.
Then, as now, words
convey much
softening the blows of life
awakening
a spirit of curiosity,
compassion.
A thought rendered helpless
lovingly
caressed by time—
imagining,
playfully transforming,
clinging
to my heart.
. . .
Poetry is the best words in the best order.
—Samuel Coleridge
I often pen poems throughout the year, simple words cast easily onto the page without regard to rules or form. National Poetry Month conjures a need to learn more about this craft. I spend more time studying, revising, and watching the words create sounds, images, feelings yet unspoken, yet bound in some small way to the constraints of form and limitless curiosity.
On this first day of April, I begin from the beginning. A young child enthralled with the magic of language. For more than 70 years, the magic holds strong, refusing to fade and strengthening the mind and heart.
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