by Margaret Colangelo | | Poetry
You, my loves,
seem to simply sway
as I come to nurture you each day,
it’s you who fuels my soul.
Those moments, often causing tardiness,
create fortune!
As I bend and sing for you gently,
it’s your song that holds power!
And I take pride in your growth while,
it would seem, no one monitors mine.
But you do, don’t you?
You clear my head
of what doesn’t serve me
as I deadhead past blooms
to allow future flowers.
Endless gratitude-
For saving me,
"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