A Life With Poetry

I could not imagine a life without poetry. Whatever you have to face in life, someone has written a poem about just that experience and those exact feelings.

If I am having a bad day I frequently reach for my poetry books and I get lost in the language and the emotions. Sometimes it makes me feel better, other times I just identify with the poet and cry with them. for the happiest times in life there are joyful, celebratory poems to help share the happiness and sometimes just plain silly ones to make you laugh. When my mother passed away one of the first things I did for her service was choose the right poem - and it was there, as they always are.

My life would be incomplete without my poetry. It was not always so. As a child poems were mostly just something the teacher read out or you had to learn by heart. Then, when I was 14, something wonderful happened. His name was Mr Smith - an old English teacher who saw it as his job to make children adore literature - he was good at his job! He introduced us to the poetry of John Keats. At first I was not won over. Obviously this showed in my face because Mr Smith stopped the lesson and announced  "Janet Stewart, stop pulling that face. These words speak of true love. One day a boy will speak to you like this and you will melt!" I was mortified and unconvinced but I did pay more attention in poetry classes, if only to avoid future embarrassment.

By the time I was 16 I adored Keats, Byron, Shelley & Shakespeare, bought books of their works to take on holiday to read for pleasure and had opted to take English Literature 'A' level. Mr Smith told me that his job was done and he could now retire! He kindly held on 2 more years until I had completed my 'A' levels with more wonderful Keats, Shakespeare and yes, you guessed it, he introduced me to Jane Austen.

I left school with an absolute love of literature and the English tutor in the first year of my degree course said he had never had such an enthusiastic student - well done Mr Smith!

Now what about weak at the knees? Well, I started dating a very nice young man, who, after a number of outings handed me a poem that he had written for me and, yes, my heart skipped a beat. He wrote me quite a few more after that and when I came back from a holiday with a girl friend he met me at the airport and handed me more poetry. And yes, Mr Smith was right again, my heart did melt.

I have often tried to write my own poetry but, I have to admit, have failed miserably. Immature schoolgirl nonsense. So I stick to reading it and continue to broaden my knowledge. In the past few years I have read more Andrew Motion and Simon Armitage. Both excellent poets. Mr Armitage is a little more gritty than I was used to, being a former probation officer, but writes with such honesty and knowledge that he has become one of my favourite poets. His poem Black Roses about the killing of Sophie Lancaster reduced me to tears. It is both loving and heartbreaking - read it!

Now, I am sure you are all wondering about the young man who wrote all that beautiful poetry for me. Well, obviously, I married him!