I ask them to take a poem
and hold it up to the light
like a color slide

or press an ear against its hive.

From “Introduction to Poetry” by Billy Collins

I made a 2021 New Year’s resolution to blog daily about poetry. I have been blogging daily for years, but never specifically about poetry. I have always loved poetry, but never consistently thought about poetry. Writing about poetry daily for six months (and I will continue the habit that I have developed) has allowed me to experience poetry in a new way. I am at once a child listening to books of verses, a student learning how to read and write, and a writer aspiring to find words.

I like the idea, as Collins suggests, that a poem can be a color slide or hive or room or kite. Poems are a path to places we might not otherwise go. They are the mind’s passport unique from other forms of the written word. Their language is contextual and refined. Their meanings are personal and ephemeral. They must be allowed to run free.

What have I learned about poetry so far? Poetry can be precise like a diamond and delicate like lace. It can be descriptive like a photograph and melodious like a song. It can be full-throated like a hymn and quiet like a prayer. Poetry can be attentive and aware and wide-awake. This is what I have known for sure my entire life, but the microscope of this year has proven that to be even more true.

Will I ever write poetry? Probably not. Will I ever call myself a poet? Probably not. Those words are reserved for the fearless. For those who are willing to swim at great depths. For those with the ability to see stars in distant galaxies. For those with hearts so open all the words, even the hard words, flow like the tide.