Ugh, rough day at school.
Don't really wanna blog, but I should say something coherent and poetry-related here for BEDA, shouldn't I.
Poetry, poetry, poetry...
I don't know.
A girl from writing club invited me to a performance night where she was going to present her spoken word poem to the audience. Performing this poem was really important to her, so I figured I'd take a break from schoolwork and go watch her.
She was amazing. She was moving and heart-felt. The poem was about something that was really close to her heart.
To hell with alliteration and iambic pentameter.
She was moved. Her poetry moved her. And the audience was moved by her. She probably got the loudest applause out of everyone who performed that night.
Yeah, I know. I sounds like I'm contradicting myself from yesterday, saying that poetry was a intellectual exercise.
Well, music also an intellectual exercise too. (Seriously, when you have to think about stuff like flats, sharps, intervals, harmonies, and 6/8 timing, it really is a intellectual exercise.) Music's been moving people for years.
In that sense, poetry isn't that much different.
Didn't lyrical poetry have it roots in music.
Crap, I should remember this stuff from First-year Lit class.
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