Wednesday, 5 August 2026

Tell us about...Poetry

I am not a regular reader of poetry, nor do I write about it much. I did write this post last year  about one of my favourite 'poetic' sayings, and not long after I wrote about my Dad's random poetry reciting at bizarre moments, and how it's wired into my brain.



As I looked for some books to make their way to my Street library, I stumbled across this, still unread 35 years later and thought I might give it a go...and my well read friend suggested I listen to Sir Ian McKellen read it on Audible if I chuck it in (which I probably will).






As a child, I grew up with the poems of  A.A.Milne, Ogden Nash and of course Lear's The Owl and the Pussy Cat. I had the Childcraft series and the volume with stories and poems was my favourite.

But then you stop reading it.







In High School poetry reading returns and I loved Browning and Auden and discovered Housman and his ode to getting drunk* (which I can still recite that paragraph...it's so weird what sticks and what doesn't!). I can't recall how I even found that poem but I loved it. It seemed so irreverent.

My blog bio on Twitter borrows from Mary Oliver. I read her much later, in Uni I think but all her poetry is great. Accessible but on point, especially for women.

And of course, Ozymandias who ironically does stand the test of time at least for now - I see the statue and hear the poem  in my head all over the world, when I travel. Rome, Malta, all the ancient civilisations will echo with the wise words. Even when I see certain billionaires desperate for a legacy in the news, I think 'Guess he never read Shelley'.



It's crazy what is suddenly recalled. At Nantes, walking to the chateau, I instantly thought of this poem (and this picture from our Childcraft series from my childhood). I haven't thought of that poem in 50 years, but I saw the flowers and started to rattle it off in my head and thought of the illustration in the book. I guess there is something more to the rhyme or beat than we realise - it cements the words and the images in our heads. A little like songs with built in music. Or rap, I guess...









So why do we stop reading it? Why don't we seek it out more than we do, when we know what enjoyment it can bring and how it paints our world, our inner thoughts and the way we process the world we move through? 

I honestly don't know.

Poems are like concentrated books. They offer insight and introspection in few words. You can dip in and be done, so there's really no excuse, and yet it's a form that we often neglect in our reading...

Writing this, and struggling to get my thoughts together (I found this a very difficult prompt, to be honest), I have reminded myself of how much I enjoy poetry. So I think I will add a poem review in my book reviews. Once a month I will track down a new (to me) poem that meant something, or appealed in to me in some way.

Who do you think I should start with? Or do you have a favourite poem?

Linking with #TellUsAbout


While I said I don't read it often, I am trying to read more - and last year I reviewed two poetry books - here and here.

*Terence, This is Stupid Stuff


1 comment:

  1. The owl and the pussycat was my favourite when i was little and now at 55 years old I still love owls and cats, have a nice week.

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