11.30.14 The Poetry of Me

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This week I am beginning a poetry unit with my students, and I must say I am excited!  I know I’ll hear groans and disgruntled disclaimers of, “I don’t know how to write poetry,” but I am undeterred.  I come from a word-loving family, and though we don’t always express ourselves the same way, I believe Robert Frost who said, “Poetry is when emotion has found its thought and the thought has found words.” In short, poetry is bottled emotion, and who wouldn’t love to capture a feeling sometimes. 

I read poetry a great deal (part of the job of teaching Literature) but I enjoy it more than I can say.  I think that every time I read something, it effects me on a new level, even if I don’t fully understand it.  Carl Sandburg  personified poetry beautifully when he said, “Poetry is an echo, asking a shadow to dance.”  And words do dance!  They sway and twirl in our minds, sometimes displaying intricate choreography, sometimes spinning randomly.  Regardless, language offers itself up in poetry much like an interpretive song.  I was once asked to write a self-reflective piece; you can learn a lot about yourself by doing so.  I decided to share it with you, to dance with you if you will.  I hope you enjoy, and consider defining yourself without bounds.

Literarily yours,

Elle

Me, Myself and I

I am
found
unpredictable
and
quirky
unsure of myself still
younger on the inside than I seem to be on the outside

I am
weird (but never boring)
everything somedays
nothing the next
changing the world
as the world tries its best
to change
me

I am a
blue-eyed
tears cried
laughing
dimpled
mile-wide-smile
who
hurts
heals
and
helps others through

I am
an open book
a turning page
a closed door
a curious child with eyes open wide
who closes them
tight
at the hurt I don’t wish to see

I am
cautiously honest
true to myself
(whoever myself happens to be that day)
trying to do what’s right
wishing I knew what that was
and dreaming of a day without so many decisions

I am
fickle
a change of colors
wanting
needing
rejecting
protecting
me

I am
myself
(most of the time)
but more than any one
particular
thing
I am
everything at once
I am I
and someday,
I just might believe
I’m enough

4 thoughts on “11.30.14 The Poetry of Me

  1. enough: equal to what is needed, occurring in such quantity, quality, or scope as to fully meet demands, needs, or expectations. My dear, precious, fragile Elle, you are more than enough according to Merriam-Webster’s Dictionary. You are…enough. (note: that is a period, not a question mark)

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