as i hear balmorea

Last night I had the luxury of spending two and a half hours in my first poetry class for the semester. I'd taken poetry once before, back in college, and loved it. I love how it makes me think about the most simple things-a paperclip, a shadow, an empty room, it a new way, or at least in a way searching for originality. I love how so much meaning is compressed into the fewest words. I love how even the mention of poetry makes me pause before I pour my babbling thoughts onto a page.

When did poetry get such a bad reputation? I agree that monotonous sonnets detailing lost love, or desiring love, or cheesy relationships can get old. But have you ever read a good poem about a feeling, a relationship, an inspiration? Have you ever let it sink into you?

I'm a photographer, and some days I see the world only through a little rectangular box. Some may see it as limiting, but I long for the simplicity and elimination that little rectangle provides. It challenges my brain and eyes to decide what's important and what's not. The key is not to show only the important-but to include enough of the unimportant with the important, therefore making the unimportant essential.

This so closely resembles junior high. All the kids classified as "medium, average," swarming around the elite essential in hopes to fit into the tiny box society demands of you. Little do they know that their seemingly unimportant, average presence is the very thing that makes the elite, the popular, the cool kids, what they are. I wish my friends and I had realized this back then.