We have a little red bookshelf that houses most of our poetry collection, and a little drama. Mike still reads and discusses poetry each winter as part of his senior English curriculum, but I almost never pick up an anthology to read a poem. I have memories of snow days spent at home reading Robert Frost with my dad, and some angsty teenage hours spent poring over mushy love poems, but other than that the only poetry I’ve read has been assigned to me as a class requirement.
– There’s a book my dad gave me, called The Little Black Songbook, that’s full of Bob Dylan lyrics that also sits on the shelf. We’re big Dylan fans in this house, and reading his poetic song lyrics is always a reminder to me of the power of language. He has a remarkable way of growling out his tough social commentary that hits home in pretty much every one of his songs, but simply reading the words as poetry has a similar power.
Do any of you read poetry for pleasure? Any favorites? Any classes that forced you to think differently about reading and critical thought?