Poetry, Sort of

A Nod to the Poets

Or, “What? I don’t get it.”

I don’t believe I could be a poet; I have never heard the call In fact, I am not sure I understand poetry; no, not at all.

The phrases often discordant; frequently without timbre or pace of time And to me even more befuddling; sometimes they don’t even rhyme.

Often, it’s short phrase; and, sometimes — peppered with words like punctilious, pernicious and penitent — the prose is quite long. It seems like the poet is always confident; the heck with common conventions, I can do no wrong.

Just when I think I have possibly deciphered intent; have decided what the words just might mean. It then occurs to me suddenly; perhaps the message isn’t in the words, it’s in the spaces in between.

So, I go back and meander; try to pull some sense out of the jumbled array. Only to be left still to wonder; what is the author trying to say?

Am I wrong in my thinking; am I simply trying too hard? Perhaps I am meant only to feel the emotion within; and the mere words, just disregard?

No, I will never be a poet; this much is abundantly clear. But maybe, just maybe, if I continue to try at it; I will finally find my poetry reading ear?

So, hats off to all the poets; those that will rhyme and those who have refused. Keep doing what you do; and maybe the rest of us will figure out just what the heck you are talking about.

Or, maybe not. Maybe we will just stay confused.

If you liked that one, you might like my only other previous stab at poetry contained in this out-of-season story:

Or, you might like these:

Timothy Key spent over 26 years in the fire service as a firefighter/paramedic and various fire chief management roles. He firmly believes that bad managers destroy more than companies, and good managers create a passion that is contagious. Compassion, grace and gratitude drive the world; or at least they should. Follow me on Instagram, Facebook, and Twitter, and join the mail list.