Like a piece of ice on a hot stove the poem must ride on its own melting. ~Robert Frost
To many people poetry remains trapped and frozen in a block of impenatrable ice. We cannot understand or appreciate it. We come to it cold and we leave it frostbitten. So how do we melt a poem?
“Poetry struck me as an arbitrary and capricious method of avoiding clarity, and where my betters heard lyricism I kept hearing foolishness. If the poem said, “Go, lovely rose!” I found myself thinking, “Scram, Rose. On the double. Take a powder, rose.” ~Jean Kerr, Penny Candy
The post continues at The Common Room, a blog by a homeschooling mother.