It’s Poetry Month!

poetmonth

I know I’m over a week late to the party but that’s not gonna stop me from jumping into this bandwagon of wonderful dorkery! A lot of my fellow book bloggers are celebrating April as Poetry month and while I’m not really a hundred percent sure of its origin nor the reason why it’s being held in April, I just can’t simply pass up on such a legit excuse to give poetry some much-needed lovin’ again, after a very long time of neglecting it.

I’m so excited to share with you guys some of the best poems from my favorite poets. And just for kicks, I’ll also throw a couple of my works in the bag because hey, I can’t even remember the last time I’ve ever posted my poems! This is going to be so much fun!

To kick things off to a jumpstart, here’s one of the earliest poems I’ve come to love as a kid, from a poet who continue to inspire me greatly to this day.

On Turning Ten

Billy Collins

The whole idea of it makes me feel
like I’m coming down with something,
something worse than any stomach ache
or the headaches I get from reading in bad light–
a kind of measles of the spirit,
a mumps of the psyche,
a disfiguring chicken pox of the soul.

You tell me it is too early to be looking back,
but that is because you have forgotten
the perfect simplicity of being one
and the beautiful complexity introduced by two.
But I can lie on my bed and remember every digit.
At four I was an Arabian wizard.
I could make myself invisible
by drinking a glass of milk a certain way.
At seven I was a soldier, at nine a prince.

But now I am mostly at the window
watching the late afternoon light.
Back then it never fell so solemnly
against the side of my tree house,
and my bicycle never leaned against the garage
as it does today,
all the dark blue speed drained out of it.

This is the beginning of sadness, I say to myself,
as I walk through the universe in my sneakers.
It is time to say good-bye to my imaginary friends,
time to turn the first big number.

It seems only yesterday I used to believe
there was nothing under my skin but light.
If you cut me I could shine.
But now when I fall upon the sidewalks of life,
I skin my knees. I bleed.

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