As an author I truly appreciate the beauty of words. If you've read any of my poetry you've probably gathered that I'm not that great a poet. Occasionally something clicks for me and those moments are precious. Words are about passion, and poetry many times is passion at its best. Like the words of a beautiful love song they inspire us to greater heights. I, as an author, use words to weave stories. Stories of love, hate, fear, good and evil. My words aren't always subtle like the poets. And that perhaps is why I have always loved poetry.
Kentucky has had many great poets, and possibly some in the making right now. Robert Penn Warren caught my eye early on with the subtle messages weaved into his words. And if you've ever been to a poetry reading--they're amazing. To have someone read those lines of verse grasping the passion beneath the words.
I combined poetry and story in my second book because of my love of the art, and the passion in those short verses that say so much. Take the poem below, one of my favorites by Mr. Warren. As an author I immediately have a vision of this young man as he stands in the road. His passion to see the world, experience life as yet unknown. To write his story. Perhaps he is a young man in his early teens wanting to spread his wings. He knows there's a world out there. He can't see it, but he's heard about it. And his heart beats to fly into the adult world. Or perhaps he's a young man and war is going on, and he aches to join the fight. Either way you can feel the passion of this young man, standing on a dark country road, hearing the sounds of life in motion, and seasons changing. Or perhaps it is simply the opposite. A time when the Elderberry blooms. Mid-summer. Perhaps he was seeing the days slip by, moving much too fast toward the end of summer.
The ability for the reader to feel the passion, and place upon it their own feelings and emotions is part of the true beauty of these subtly written words.
Robert Penn Warren 1905 - 1989
Tell Me a Story
Long ago, in Kentucky, I, a boy, stood
By a dirt road, in first dark, and heard
The great geese hoot northward.
I could not see them, there being no moon
And the stars sparse.I heard them.
I did not know what was happening in my heart.
It was the season before the elderberry blooms,
Therefore they were going north.
The sound was passing northward.
I hope you enjoyed my tribute to Robert Penn Warren. Look up his poetry, see what passion it inspires in you. Enjoy for this is National Poetry Month.