By Ann Petersen, SBA Columnist | 2/6/25
(SBA) - I am not a poet. Some assume that, as an English major, I am a writer and that all writers can craft anything. Not true. I am a good non-fiction writer, but fiction, and particularly poetry, is not in my wheelhouse. Each year at Christmas, I write a poem for our Christmas letter, but those poems are simply doggerel—poor poetry. Nevertheless, I have taken classes in poetry, and I am friends with several actual poets, but I would never presume placing myself in the shoes of actual poets. However, I love poetry, and, over the years, I have come to love the writing of poets, living and dead. Of course, as an English major, I appreciate the sonnets of Shakespeare, the tight “little” poems of Emily Dickinson, and the creativity of Chaucer.
I have, however, found numerous contemporary poets whose work I love. One of the first was Eloise Greenfield whose book, HONEY, I LOVE taught me that small children can enjoy the cadence and color of poems.
“I love
I love a whole lot of things
Like
My cousin comes to visit and you know he’s from the South
‘Cause every word he says just kind of slides out of his mouth.
I love the way he whistles and I like the way he walks
But honey, let me tell you that I LOVE the way he talks!”
Recently, I discovered the poetry in Chris Crowe’s DEATH COMING UP THE HILL, the story of life during the Vietnam War when strife at home masked the political realities of the war. Crowe chose to write the poem in Haiku form—17 syllables per stanza with a 5-7-5 pattern. His skill in this Japanese form blows me away!
“The bodies piled up
over there. Hundreds every
week, with thousands more
Wounded. And we had
problems at home. Race riots
last year were caused by
discrimination
that still lingered. Anti-war
rallies stirred people
up, too, and sometimes
it felt like America
was ready to blow.”
Mary Oliver, who won the Pulitzer Prize for Poetry in 1984, published posthumously her final compendium, DEVOTIONS in 2024, a glorious collection of her best work. Included from her 2015 book, FELICITY, is the poem, “I Wake Close to Morning,”
“Why do people keep asking to see
God’s identity papers
When the darkness opening into morning
Is more than enough?
Certainly any god might turn away in disgust.
Think of Sheba approaching
The kingdom of Solomon.
Do you think she had to ask,
‘Is this the place?’”
This week, try to find some bit of poetry that speaks to your heart. You may be surprised what you discover.
