A Rant on Poetry

Mis(s)adventures

I’ll never forget the smug cynicism I felt last spring when my professor handed us Ezra Pound’s poem “Papyrus.” The poem is as follows:

Spring . . . . . . .

Too long . . . . . .

Gongula . . . . . .

I quickly scribbled my own version to show how much artistic talent I thought a poem like this took. My version went something like this:

Summer . . . . . . .

Too short . . . . . .

Arugula . . . . . .

Unfortunately, my professor overheard the laughter of my two classmates, and had me read my creation to the whole class. I was slightly embarrassed, but I also felt justified in expressing my frustration with modern poetry.

Poetry and I have had a love-hate relationship since I entered college. Before college, I was pretty much unaware…

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