I’m a person full of life… why should I struggle with flowery words to create a poem? Poems are confounding to me, is such writing really necessary? On the flip side, some poets–such as the late Maya Angelou–stop me dead in my tracks. I am captured by her words. They are stunning, uplifting:
It’s the fire in my eyes,
And the flash of my teeth
The swing in my waist
And the joy in my feet.
I’m a woman
Phenomenally.
What are some definitions of poetry to better understand it?
Poetry is “a form of literature that uses aesthetic and rhythmic qualities of language—such as sound symbolism—to evoke meanings in addition to, or in place of, the prosaic perceived meaning.”
“an arrangement of words, especially a rhythmical composition, sometimes rhymed, in a style more imaginative than ordinary speech”
“a composition, in verse, especially one characterized by a highly developed form and the use of heightened language and rhythm to express an imaginative interpretation of the subject”
In The Poetry Reader’s Toolkit by Marc Polonsky he says, “Prose is words in the best order. Poetry is the best words in the best order.” And he adds: “Poetry is words, chosen and arranged in such a way as to inspire the imagination.” I like this definition best.
Poetry then is like music, it contains rhythms which affect our moods and spirit. The words of our favorite songs cast little spells on us as we sing them. Poetry does the same thing. Both poetry and music engage our imagination. What they make us do is open up our imaginations in order to understand their symbolism. Then we can derive enjoyment, melancholy or satisfaction. For instance Adele’s “Rolling In The Deep”: 
Tears are gonna fall, rolling in the deep
You had my heart inside of your hand
You’re gonna wish you never had met me
And you played it, to the beat
Tears are gonna fall, rolling in the deep
The first time I heard Adele sing this song I was in the car sitting in the Sam’s parking lot and was spellbound. I was “rolling in the deep” with her and literally could not move until she finished the song. Then she left my heart pounding as I finally got out of the car.
I agree with Polonsky that poetry has been needlessly mystified in our culture. Just as there is an infinite variety of musical forms–poetry encompasses infinite expressions and styles. We may think we know what poetry is, and in a sense we do, but only in a limited sense. Because poetry is limitless, we don’t have to be afraid of it, there are no rules. You may (probably do) have a better knowledge base for poetry than I do… but that does not mean I cannot enjoy it just as much.
A recent National Science Foundation study involving 2,200 participants inspired me to write a poem. The study stunned me: It found 25% of Americans got this question wrong: “Does the Earth go around the sun, or does the sun go around the Earth?” That’s right – one in four Americans think the sun goes around the earth. However, Americans actually fared better than Europeans who answered the same question. Only 66% of European Union residents answered it correctly. Mind boggling! Here is a poem I wrote in my book. 
LOVING OUR BLUE EARTH
Love spoke and made our blue earth, not to be the center of the universe, but its muse,
Love spoke and made our blue earth the third rock from the sun, Terra, solid, drifting, with vibrant, exploding life,
Love spoke and made the third rock spin and circle around the sun, with a tilt Terra spins, making seasons abound, arrays of colors bursting,
Love spoke and made Luna, dazzling sister to our blue earth, tugging, teasing our waters, one declared we’d often visit, just because,
Love spoke and made our sun, stunningly rise and fall peacefully for our blue earth, but no, Love gently spins and turns Terra to the East each day,
Love spoke and made our sun, Helios, our brightest Hero Star, one we could ever follow, never floating away, like Love itself,
Love spoke and made our Star give our blue earth, light, life, our sight, and warmth—just right, boundless energy, gratefully received,
Love spoke and made our blue earth ride in the Galaxy of Milky Way, majestic spiral, glowing band, heavenly teeming of kinship,
Love spoke and made Love to be written in the Sky, never alone, designed, evolving, sustained harmony, loving our blue earth, gracefully conceived for Love.
I invite you to write a poem inspired from the topic of the sun, earth and our galaxy from your own worldview. The next time you watch a sunset or sunrise, can you imagine the earth moving instead of the sun? Write a poem, up to 20 lines, either rhyming or free verse, on this subject and post it here by replying to this post. I will send an autographed copy of my book to the one that (in my opinion) has the most beauty or striking language, a fresh/unique perspective or has an intriguing story or flow.
Please feel free to write your poem your way, there is only one rule, up to 20 lines, and have fun with it!
Thank you for reading my post. I am an organizational and business consultant living in the mountains of Santa Fe, New Mexico with my husband and dogs. My core message of everyone is creative resonates with people of all ages and walks of life. I invite all to become the best version of themselves and find true meaning by pursing long term creative quests.
Read more in my book: The Three Sources of Creativity: Breakthroughs from Your Head, Heart and Gut
I stepped up to the challenge and wrote a poem today Saturday March 5, 2016. Have not written a poem since high school English class!
Embrace
Embrace each day as a new day
Wash away regrets, sorrow and anger
Dry away tears, fears and doubts
Clothe yourself with love, compassion and strength
Embrace the seasons of your life
Juniper pollen, catmint
Big dipper, roasted marshmallows
Color spectrum of aspen leaves
Fluffy snow, slippery ice
Embrace your father
Kiss him goodbye
Scratchy beard, wrinkly skin
Say goodbye as leaves your world and enters the next world
Safe travels
Trust God
Embrace your grandson
Kiss him hello
Soft skin, perfect toes
Say hello as he leaves his womb and enters your world
Safe travels
Trust God
Embrace each day as a new day
Oh Ceci your poem is so poignant and absolutely beautiful. It is sad yet so hopeful. I’ve got tears in my eyes as I read about your dad passing. I only wish I could have met him…
YES let us Clothe ourselves with love, compassion and strength. You are a powerful inspiration to me to do just that. I will lift my prayers to heaven today in honor of your dad’s remarkable life and that the special bond you have with him will remain always until you see him again. Please take sweet care of yourself. I’m sending you my book with all of my love!
Thank you for taking the time to write this and sharing it with us, I will cherish it, well done!!
Shall I Mourn the Winter
shall I mourn the Winter for the Spring
shall I lament the chilled season’s passing for the warmed day’s arrival
all the wet blanket quietness of continuous decomposition
resting so soundly below the never ending dark hours of stillness
reflecting with each flake and drop the intense loss of captured color
stripping bare the silhouetted skyward branches and earthbound shadows
so steadily sleeping then beautifully bending to the winds of change
which announce the coming of the long anticipated reward
unexpectedly righting again to the new season’s song in glorious bloom
shall I mourn the Spring for the Summer
Dear Melanie,
This is so beautiful, you are so talented! You have captured the beauty of winter with a wonderfully contemplative mood. May we “beautifully bend to the winds of change” and be rewarded with “the new season’s song” –YES i am very inspired to do just that. Thank you dearest one. I hope you will write more… you certainly have “a poet” in you.
A DREAM FROM THE FUTURE
Suhad Salih Abubakar
I can hear the drums of destruction!
I can sense the touch of solitude!
I can feel the eminent danger!
I can see the drawing nigh of a dark cloud,
Circling and dancing around our efforts.
Yes! It gazes pitiless at our solidarity.
It mocks our chance for redemption.
And it sneers its glare at our existence.
That is the sound of conflict I hear.
Slowly conquering territories.
Majestically gaining grounds.
Wishfully sipping the souls of the innocent,
But not the souls of many.
Able men are its firewood,
Used to rekindle flames of conflict.
Women are its play toy,
Used to keep hot bloods satisfied.
Children are its future,
Used to assure perpetual confusion.
The strength of able men channeled into wasteful ventures,
The morality and mildness of women turned into intoxicants,
The vulnerability of children plunged into flames of constant anarchy.
Ô! How I wish we all had common grounds,
A common stand where we can all be safe,
An oval table of sensible and rational leaders.
We all revere a supreme being after all.
Both factions of the eager zones do agree.
Religion has always been the opium of the masses, they say.
Why not capitalize on our common denominator?
Why not put away our selfish interests?
Why not join hands?
Not out of friendship or brotherhood,
But out of respect for our doctrines.
The doctrine which abhors callousness.
The doctrine which disapproves of bloodshed.
The doctrine which preaches tolerance.
The doctrine which chooses selflessness over selfishness.
Why not spare our statisticians the body count?
Why not restore our children’s naivety?
Why not cherish our women’s dignity?
Why not allow our men into fruitful ventures?
So we can be proud to call our world our own,
So we can walk and dream freely.
And dream of a safe world,
Where posterity can be assured and guaranteed.
Salih Shad Abubakar is a 24-year-old Ghanaian poet. She views poetry as an emancipatory tool capable of breaking barriers and forming new bonds with people. Her poem “A Dream from the Future” is a moving introspection on the themes of religion and violence. It highlights the impact of conflicts and the need to use religions as a tool for peace and unity rather than violence and division.
It Is Possible
by Joyce Rupp
it is possible
to become so one
with Earth
that every flower
perfumes the soul,
every snowflake
sends icy softness
dancing through veins,
every drop of rain
trickles down vessels
of the heart,
every cloud in the sky
sails along
songlines of the spirit,
every earthquake
rumbles in the gut,
every tide of the sea
moves in and out of self,
it is possible
to become one
with Earth
just as it is possible
to become one
with all people,
their pain, my pain,
their joy, my joy,
their struggle and delight
an echo of my own.
it is possible to become one.
it is possible.