6th grade is when I
6th grade is when I first read poetry
We were reading out of one of those big textbooks
I'd sit in class and count the ceiling tiles
Anything other than read a poem
To me poems were so confusing
Why couldn't they just get to the point
To much imagery and personification
It was like reading another language
Especially those old English poems
The ones with thee and thine language
I couldn't understand
Why they didn't write normal
6th grade passed and 7th began
The same kind of book
I prepared for another unit of bore
But bore never came
Rather we jumped into the poem of Walt Whitman
His poem of two paths
He questioned
Which one to go down
With the poems final words
Something inside me clicked
I understood what he was saying
And saw the beauty of how he said it
A month or two later
I can't remember the date
My great-grandfather passed on
Goodbye, I never got to say
I remember the tears
The hugs and the unspoken last words
I could have at the hospital, or on the phone
Said. But never did.
I was sitting at my desk
Tears falling down my face
I wanted to say goodbye
But it was too late.
I sat there wondering how to say goodbye
And that was when I wrote my first poem
Tears on my cheeks,
I questioned "Why?"
The words seemed to flow
The imagery vivid
Nowhere else to go
The pen flew across the page.
I was terrible at writing
Until that day
Thats when I finally
Knew just what to say.
From that moment forward
Each trying event that arose
The pen was picked up
And the words seemed to flow.
Poetry is my expression
A way to release
To open up the corked bottle
A way to finally breathe
I still don't understand
Thee and thine
But I know what each poet is saying
They are releasing their trying times
Just like I did mine.