POET'S CORNER
You might be a Poet
#001: June 2004
You might
be a poet if you can find "used words" and turn
them into something new like the phrase "You might be
a redneck..." and make those words your own. Do you enjoy
working with "found objects"? Some call "found
objects" garbage. A poet often sees the potential in
things that others toss aside. Poets are first and foremost
CREATORS. Do you have a garden to tend? Do you keep a journal
? Do you like to draw, paint, or take pictures? If you like
to create, you might be a poet.
If you are
motivated by more than the almighty dollar, you might be a
poet. Though a handful of famous poets are also bankers, doctors,
and attorneys, monetarily RICH poets are a rare breed. If
you live for yard sales, thrift towns, love the “real
recycling” of old cars and old buildings and not just
the buying the latest, newest thing, then you might be a poet!
Like to
feel life around you? Do you notice the changing seasons,
birds, wind, moon, and stars? Are you a lover of dogs, cats,
fish, and children? Do you want to cry out at angry child
pullers and screamers in grocery stores? If you care about
others and yourself, if you are troubled by war and starvation
, if you can feel empathy for others, if you know that there’s
a dark side to the light, a dawn to every night, then you
might be a poet.
If you are
not a big follower of fads or fashion and mostly dress for
comfort , if you want to eat all the chips and down ice cream
clear to the licking spots, then you might be a poet. If you
dare to run naked in the rain or listen to the music in your
brain, then you might be acting like a poet. If you “gladly
learn and gladly teach,” then you might be a poet.
Okay, so
I might be a poet. Is that a bad thing? Not at all, it means
that have deeper feelings than most. You have the eyes of
a hawk and ears of a rabbit. You might even be like a big,
inviting bowl of pecans on a pristine table with chairs set
out for pecan eaters.
Imagine
those pecans. They are hard-shelled, almost impenetrable.
Crack open their shells and see what’s inside. Don’t
those pecans invite you to crack them open? They may be tough
on the outside; inside they are tasty and sweet. Those pecans
are sitting there just like you, the poet, waiting for the
chance to crack open and spill out good sweet words.
POETS
Poets are nuts:
Shells broken, scattered.
Hard to crack,
They beg to be peeled.
Jeff Hartzer
copyright
2004
