Poetry Thursday: Why I Love Poetry

Why I love Poetry

By Imelda Maguire (aka GreenishLady)

I love poetry
for the moose, for the fish,
for the terrible beauty,
the golden apples and the silver apples,
for the earthworms singing,
and the dead in their glass-bottom boats,
looking down at us.

I love it for the questions:
What am I going to do
with this one precious life?
And the promises:
I love how it makes me believe again,
and again that I am not alone.

Out there, souls found the words
for the heart’s ache and its joy,
dug them out with their squat pens,
scattered them on the page,
like this season’s first potatoes,
offered them. Offer them still.

I love the friendliness of poetry –
the way the poet expects me to see
what they mean. Like a friend would.
I love the trust in that. I love that
every poem is another hand, reaching,
warming. I love that it slowly softens the wax,
that it soothes.


That's this week's offering for Poetry Thursday, at which we were asked to say (in 153 words or less) why we love poetry. These are today's reasons. The ones that came to the top of my head - and excluding the title (because I am a good and co-operative person), my word-count is actually 153 words! Go and find out why other people love poetry HERE.

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A few hours later, I realise I meant to mention the list of poets referred to in the poem. They are Elizabeth Bishop, WB Yeats, Leland Bardwell, Billy Collins, Mary Oliver, Seamus Heaney and Primo Levi. I've never borrowed so freely before. Fun!