A Poem A Day.
The suspense. The imagery. The eloquence. These are the things that ignite the fire in me. Before everything else, I was a poet. Before I had discovered prose and the lovely world of books, I was a poet. Before I had given my heart to love, I was a poet. And thereafter, when love trampled my heart under her muddy feet and walked out of my life without goodbye, I still remained a poet. For better for worse, I am a poet. In sickness in health, I will be a poet.
I have read Sonnet 18 of Shakespeare three times. The first time, to acquaint myself with the old English. The second time, I aimed to connect with the powerful rhythm. On the third instance, I simple enjoyed the magnificence of the work. This far, it’s the only poem of Shakespeare I love. My top three favorite poems are Angela Morgan’s When Nature Wants to Make A Man, Robert Frost’s Stopping by the Woods on a Snowy Evening, and Rudyard Kipling’s If.
Whenever I try to imagine my life without poetry, there is only darkness. Through books of poetry, I have stood on top of the world and appreciated its bare ugliness. In the eloquence of great poets, gone and present, I have embraced diverse beauty and lived diverse lives. Consequently, in the many poems I have expressed myself in, I have striven to preserve the eternal essence of poetry. Perhaps, in some days I failed to create a masterpiece. But that’s where every master began.
In the journey of poetry there are no rights, there are no wrongs. In the journey of poetry there are no rules. The heartbeat is the tune to dance to, and simply create. The purpose of a poet is to compose poems, the purpose of a good poet is to compose good poems and compose them every day. In this line, this month of April I commit myself to thirty day of poetry, welcome. I don’t know where the road will lead me from where, and I don’t care. The suspense is great, and I am grateful.