Like the title of this post? That’s about as poetic as I get. I hate poetry. I know, most of those that read this will be writers also, so I’m running the risk of offending a poet. But, poets – wherefore art thou? I have always loved Shakespeare. I loved Dante, or more specifically, his Divine Comedy, which I know is technically poetry, but the English translations I’ve read don’t feel like it to me. Regular, modern day stuff though? Uh-uh. And what’s that Japanese one we had to do in school? Haiku! Yes, that’s the one. I get a Grumpy Cat face, just thinking about that.

It isn’t that I’m against poetry. It’s just that I don’t personally like it. I don’t get it. I get how it’s put together, iambic pentameter and the like. I simply do not understand it. I don’t have a feel for it. I can read it, and reread it, and then I sit there. I sit there and think, “Ok, so this guy wrote that. He probably could have just put it into prose, though.”

Occasionally, I will read a poem that I do actually get. I have a brother who used to write poetry when he was a teenager. And his stuff was funny. Funny in a “you’re brilliant” way. He is now working on his doctorate at the University of Chicago. Not in poetry. Thank You, Lord, because when he gets published, I will read everything he writes, as a good and loyal big sister should. And I would like to not have to lie to my brother about having read his book.

A while back, I downloaded an ebook of Robert Frost poetry. I felt a little guilty that there was this great American poet, about whom President John F Kennedy once said that from Frost’s poetry, “Americans will forever gain joy and understanding.” Wow. I could use some joy. And I could really use some understanding of why the heck he was so great. I tried reading the first poem in the book. Hated it.

I don’t think that hating poetry, even supposedly great poetry, makes me an intellectual hack, though I’m sure there will be some poets out there who will say that. And I do understand that for people who do love poetry there is a joy in the arrangement of the words. I know that some even may say that this is the only way that they feel they can truly express themselves. Cool. Right on, sister. Or brother. Or whomever. You just keep on keepin’ on. It’s your thing. Do what you want to do.

I’ll just be over here. Making sure you don’t get any poetry on me.

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