Back in 6th grade, when the only problem in life was what to do at recess or who to play tetherball with, poetry was fun and simple. I remember going to the library and checking out a Shel Silverstein book full of poetry, packed with laughter and funny images. I would read the books cover to cover, memorizing a couple of my favorites (Ickle Me, Pickle Me, Tickle Me Too being one of them). I took for granted those times of simple poetry. Little ol' 6th grade me had no idea what was coming. We are now required to analyze, break down, and somehow understand poems written in Olde English. And these poems don't typically evoke laughter, either. They're usually about an unfortunate event in someone's life, written in a very confusing way. Frankly, the poems we read in school now do not bring any pleasure to me and, I'm quite certain, everyone else.
So think back to the tetherball playing, Dr. Suess and Shel Silverstein reading days. You'd be lying to yourself if you said you didn't miss them.
This is Quartknee Brown, signing off until next time.
Where the Sidewalk Ends will always be one of my favorites, too. I still talk about Sarah Sylvia Cynthia Stout. . .
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