One of the greatest things about writing poetry myself and teaching it to both children and adults is that you are never too young or too old to express your truth. Whether you are experiencing the wild highs and lows of high school dating or marriage, whether you are a child or parent coping with divorce, or whether you are a child or a grandparent eating sticky popsicles in the summertime, through poetry you can capture what it means to love, feel fully alive, and be human.
April is a month of transition, either by finishing up your taxes or enjoying more daylight hours. It is a month which brightens up the disappearing dimness and provides us all with a nourishing chance to renew (or try again)… April is Poetry month, which snuck up on me this year again.
Aspirations and resolutions are given a moment to be checked into or revised. What time would be better matched with poetry than the vibrant month of April? Amidst refreshing showers this rebirth (or renewal) thrives. I sampled a foretaste of this renewal when Redondo Beach Public Library invited poets to read their work on a podcast in preparation for Poetry month. Waiting outside with other poets, listening to them rehearse, I revisited my own work, as well.
It’s Friday night, and I’m watching The King and I. “Et-cet-er-a, et-cet-er-a,cet-cet-er-a,” repeats the king slowly, with great satisfaction—you know the line. After a while, I begin to visualize etceteras stringing out into space:
Somewhere in space, although you can’t sight ‘em,
Meet et al., etcetera, and ad infinitum.
Just hearing Yul Brynner say his words over and over sparked my quirky little poem.
If you want to know me, there’s one simple rule: Talk to the hand. I do not say that as an expression of contempt or disinterest. Rather, I say it an invitation. A call to engage my heart and learn the truth of the man who lies beneath. For while my mouth is stopped with shyness and doubt, my fingers speak to the soul of who I really am.