Monday, June 18, 2012

I Admire Poets, by Sue Perlgut


I admire poets and their craft. Grace Paley, Marge Piercy, Irena Klepfitz, Adrienne Rich, Katharyn Howd Machan. Not that I can quote one line. Nothing comes to mind. Not one word. 

In all the novels and murder mysteries that I read, someone, anyone, is always quoting poetry or Shakespeare. They are usually British. I wonder, are the Brits taught differently than us?

I imagine the following scenario in a first grade class or whatever they call it:

Teacher: "Class, today we are going to read Shakespeare." (No Dick and Jane for them). "Memorize stanzas seven and ten from As You Like It. Someday you'll quote those lines in a novel you write."

It's not that I don't read poetry, it's that I don't remember what I read. 

I can blame it on my age, but truthfully once I'm finished reading, it's gone. Out of my mind as if I need room for the next thought. 

My mother wrote poetry. She was even published in the local newspaper when she was a teenager. They ran a poetry contest and she kept winning. Finally they made a rule about the number of times you could enter. So, she submitted the poems under her two first cousin’s names and they became the winners. 

I have two small notebooks, journals really, of some of her poems. I tried reading them years ago but seeing her handwriting made the missing of her so current and present I closed the book. They sit on my bookshelf, cracked red spines facing out. I never look at them.