Excavations

The Three Ages of Poetry

First there's the rhyme.
Its onset is early – perhaps encouraged
by the books that say poetry is
"a gift of watermelon pickle"
or something like that. Inspired,
we write lyrics to the rain,
how raindrops are blue, and clouds are grey,
and I love you God and now I'll go play!

That ends with puberty, thank heavens,
though puberty has its own drawbacks.
Namely: Jim Morrison and Sylvia Plath.
Where else would all those feelings go
if not in verse? Without poetry
where would we put our suicides,
our lost loves, our tragic family lives
and why we hate out parents?
We'd fall. We'd be like small Satans
and fall to our recreational chemical experiments, burning.

Fortunately, college intervenes
(for those of us who are lucky enough
to go on to college – most do –
we are, after all, talking about
the garden-variety, white-middle-class
poet) and we receive new life.
We write, not about suicide and smelly
teen spirit, but about ISSUES.
And DEATH. And DEEP THOUGHTS. And SEX.
And everything refers to some other poet
Or
   Has
     A
      Funny shape
Or is strikingly original
Or has the word F#@!
in it.

Some people manage to skip this, though,
and go straight to coffeehouses.
That's called slam poetry.
It's less pretentious
because it yells at more people
and uses the word F#@! a lot more.

It's a wonder we ever get published.