Poetry I Don't Get It

I have never been a serious poetry person. But since there are poets in the family, I figure I ought to try to “get” poetry again. So I reviewed some of what I learned years ago and found a little new about poetry on-line. What I found is: I am not a serious poetry person.

The only poetry for me is poetry that is straight-forward, painting, pastoral pictures.

Poetry does not need to rhyme for me. I do like the rhyme of poetry for children whether written by kids or for kids. I even like singsong poetry, supposedly not good poetry from my studies thus far.

I do not want to read all poems again and again, a little rereading for meaning is OK, but I am lazy. I don't want to figure out what the deep, psychological meaning is. Some play with words is fine-that is the why of poetry I think.

My definition of poetry is the shortest or best words, even if very unusual words, to describe a person, place, or thing. Thing in this case can be an emotion.

I know people and the “real” world are not always nice so I want be entertained or taken to a better place. I like my poetry like my old “fun” movies, escaping to a fun place or a mystery that will have an ending.

Then I thought maybe if I tried writing a verse maybe I would get it. Then my older brother and I were talking about food when he mentioned “beans and fried potatoes”. That combination of words are music and visuals of growing up . So here are the beginnings(and probably the end) of my poetry efforts but watch out... I want it to be read in a singsong manner.

If you want you can analyze the verses and let me know what you see and hear.

The Music That Is Me

Dirty face and well worn trikes
brown beans and fried potatoes.
Mosquito sprays and steaming trains
tailin' piles and sink holes.

"Do the job and do it right"
Swept porch and broom ed yard.
Summer leaches and washed cars
burnin' coal and drip lard.

"Play with me." "I'm gonna tell."
Steam rollers and road graders.
Drawing gate and ticking lock.
A Whine sack Baby Brother.

Hand me downs and Doris Day
mud pies and paper dolls.
Taking care and cleaning house
A-men-Able My Sister.

Be the best and run away
sickly sun and worry.
Trouble then and Mentor now
Thou Hector Older Brother.