My Two Cents

Am I the only one who absolutely loves that poem that I posted?
I swear, I get chills every time I read it.
It's wonderful.
Don't get me wrong, I can't really say that I understand every single line in there, but is that really the purpose of poetry? Does it really matter if out of all of Shakespeare's sonnets, plays and other writings that the only thing we can remember is the first line of Hamlet's "To be, or not to be" soliloquy, if we feel something when we remember that line?
To me it doesn't. See, to me when I think about poetry, I view it as art, art in written form. And with that definition in mind we then define art is something that illicits some kind of emotion. So by those two definitions, poetry = art. Everybody in agreement with that? Still together with me? Okay, sio if you read Hamlet's infamous soliloquy and don't grasp that the main idea here is whether he should kill himself or be a man and fight through his struggles, but you're reminded of the time you were going through an identity crisis with the opening lines of "To be, or not to be" and you feel some kind of emotion; good, bad, or otherwise, then it's okay. You got something out of it. Which I think that in the long run, is way more important than being able to accurately analyze lines 10 through 15 of Shakespeare's 51st sonnet, but that's just what I think about it.

On another note, I totally love how I had intended for this blog post to be about the poem I posted before and why I love it, and then talk about something else, but I sort of got off topic here. That's alright. This is my blog. I'll just save my ideas for another post.

xx, b.