When you knew me,
I reached for the sun.
I contorted
this way and that
to find warmth.
Now, I am content cool;
The prized pride I sought
matters little.
And the whole, wide world
will welcome me-
while you, finally,
tiredly,
head home.
by Margaret Colangelo | | Poetry
When you knew me,
I reached for the sun.
I contorted
this way and that
to find warmth.
Now, I am content cool;
The prized pride I sought
matters little.
And the whole, wide world
will welcome me-
while you, finally,
tiredly,
head home.

"Poetry is as strong now as it was hundreds of years ago. Kendrick Lamar is doing the same things that John Donne did. One of these we love, the other we get traumatic experiences from High School Lit. We might hesitate to call Lamar’s work “poetry” because it brings to mind old dead white men and incomprehensible Middle English, but the mechanics of poetry are all there.
Rhyme? Yep. Meter? Uh huh. Stanzas? All there. Heck, I would make the argument that sophistication is not even a prerequisite to poetry. “Twinkle Twinkle”? Poetry. “F*ck the Police”? Poetry."
Kevin Chen