That’s it. That’s the post. 😂
Seriously though. I began to write poems before I learned to write anything else. I penned my very first poem in 1st grade, and gave it to my friend. It was an acrostic of her name Neisha (a white chick, would you believe it?) in couplet form. I don’t remember what it said other than extolling my limited understanding of a what makes a person themselves, but from then on I began to write poems almost compulsively. Even though I moved on to writing prose in all its forms—homilies, theses, essays, reflections, and now a capstone—I have always come back to my first touch point with the weight of words.
In honor of poetry month, I will share some of my micro poetry. I really don’t follow any formal style, and that’s not intentional. I just write what comes to me. I suppose my “style” is free verse and lyrical with a dash of narrative? IDK. I just write what I sense as I always have. Sometimes my style finds its own shape; sometimes it’s as rebellious as my Afro, insistent upon doing what it so pleases.
I may also share some of my favorite poems. I have always been partial to old white men from centuries gone by, John Donne being in my top five because he just flows. I am also quite enamored of Robert Browning, though I imagine he pilfered his style and tone from Elizabeth Barrett Browning—unintentionally of course. You know the saying: behind every great man is a woman who took the time to get him there. I also love Rita Dove, and Alice Walker has always ranked high among those whose words resonated. James Weldon Johnson of course because BAPTIST—and what Missionary Baptist worth her salt wouldn’t love a good whoop. I could never leave off Nikki Giovanni (I cried when I met her) or Natasha Tretheway or Nikki Finney.
Enjoy! And make this month a month of verse.