Most of my class stared at me dully when I announced that we would be looking at poetry. A few said they liked it, but most said it was boring or that they didn’t understand it. Shakespeare, especially, they all hated, mainly because his language is so archaic and makes no sense to them. They laughed, though, when I read his humorous Sonnet 130. And when one of the sassiest women in my class stood up and read Maya Angelou’s “Phenomenal Woman,” complete with hip swings and head thrown back, the class clapped and cheered for her. Maybe it’s not that they don’t like poetry, maybe it’s just that they’ve never taken time with it, never had the opportunity to sit in its presence, listen to it, dwell with it, laugh at it together, cry at the “Ballad of Birmingham.” Not that they would admit it, but I think a few more people liked poetry at the end of the day than at the beginning.
1 comment:
I feel one has to be eased into poetry with poets they can understand, and maybe relate to. You could try doing a spoken recital of Tupac Shakur lyrics, or Charles Bukowski.
Post a Comment