And often it’s the “best” poetry or the most decorated of poets that have me wondering just why it is that I don’t get it, why any sort of appreciation of what is being expressed eludes me, so I assume the lack is my own sensitivity, my own ability to understand or to accept a kinship with it. It makes me feel obtuse, uncomprehending. It’s too big for me, too delicate or too complicated, too deep. I appreciate that.īut often it seems that poetry is outside my ability to experience it, to connect with it. It speaks to that which often cannot otherwise find a voice. It’s an idiom that is unique, that uses the look and the cadence of language to enhance or encapsulate or simplify the ideas conveyed. I love poetry, or at least the idea of poetry. I’ll admit it – I often have problems reading poetry.ĭon’t get me wrong.
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