The ever-insightful Madelyn Rosenberg tagged me for the Mortimer Minute Poetry Hop. Bless her for doing so! And I’m not saying that in the southern bless-her-heart kind of way. It’s been too long since I’ve taken the time to ruminate about poetry.
So, my little bunny friend, come with me as I share three questions (and things that take the place of answers but are actually not) about poetry!
How do you feel about rhyme?
Here are 4 things I think about rhyme:
- Rhyme is a powerful drug, and as such, should be used with caution. It’s addictive and can lead to dire consequences. But when administered properly, rhyme can be just the right kind of intoxicating.
- Sometimes rhyme guides us to the inevitable word in a poem. I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or not.
- Rhyme is fun. Fun on the run with a cat named Bun-Bun. Fun in the street with the cars that go beep. Fun everywhere, now that cat’s in my hair and I’m chasing a bear with my aunt’s underwear. (For me, the inevitable word always seems to be “underwear.” You can ask my children; I am telling the absolute truth.)
- Rhyme makes its own sense, so I don’t have to.
Read Madelyn’s much smarter answer to the same question here.
Can poetry matter?
This is a question poets apparently love to ask themselves, so I’m asking it here. I probably shouldn’t have, because my real question is “Why do poets keep asking themselves if poetry can matter?” I mean, it’s sort of like bakers asking themselves over and over if muffins matter.
Hell yes, poetry can matter. But not the way open heart surgery can matter or firetrucks can matter or group homes for developmentally challenged people can matter. Even so, sure, poetry matters. It matters to me. At least as much as muffins. Unless I’m hungry and there’s nothing but muffins to eat.
Why should people read poetry to children?
Because children deserve it. Just by being alive and having spongy brains, children deserve the gift of silly words that will click-clack-rump-pump-wiggle-waggle through their day.
Plus, I’m pretty sure frothy concoctions of playful language (by which I mean poems) make them smarter about how regular old Jane-and-Joe language works.
So do it, people. Read a kid a poem. The world will be a better place for it. And then give a kid a muffin. And give puppy a muffin as well. And then give a kid a puppy. Then give a sea urchin a haircut. The world will be better for all that too.
So now it’s my turn to tag someone. Hillary Ferguson is an excellent poet, fiction writer, and blogger. I look forward to seeing what she asks, and answers too, of course!