Written by: Martine
In our English class we have been discussing the definition of poetry. We talked about how poetry is different from other forms of writing. We learned that poetry is a metaphor, depicting the world around us and intricate human emotions. I wonder also about the definition of a poet.
This is a journal entry I wrote trying to define what it means to be a poet or if there even is a definition:
I wish to describe the feeling to you.
But then I wouldn’t be a poet.
It’s about how still the night is here, leave your ideas out and they’ll stay frozen till morning.
It’s in the people and the movement during the day. How there always manages to be someone there, standing in the doorways.
It’s about the rain. Don’t know why today, I stopped writing in the green notebook. I really couldn’t explain. If I could though,
I wouldn’t be a poet.
Something about the horizon. Something about directions, maybe the compasses aligned.
I wish I could write about the nature.
How the trees give solace.
How the flowers smile.
How the rain clouds move slowly and surely.
How they have drive.
Then the rainbow.
A scripted endeavor
But if I wrote about that, I wouldn’t be a poet.
Maybe you want to hear about the girl, about her hair and her eyes. The voice of warm pine and the real smile that I get to see sometimes. The way it feels to miss her. The first time we met, even though it’s not that interesting. How she floats like a ghost, a string in the doorway of my heart. But I never told her that, and if I told you, then I wouldn’t be
verbose
introspective
grounded
I would be naive. I would be a lovestruck teenager, who lives a whole world away, sitting on a rainy porch.
And I wouldn’t be a poet
But then, maybe I don’t wanna be
“And like the moon,
we go through phases of emptiness to feel
full again”
