I never liked poetry in school, when we were supposed to be reading and interpreting the classics. I think it was because I had not lived. I was one of those people who, to quote Thoreau, lived "a life of quiet desperation." I didn't go out. I lived in fear. Of what, I'm not now sure. I've mostly gotten over that fear and reserve.
What reintroduced me to poetry was a radio show that Garrison Keillor does on public radio, called The Writer's Almanac (http://writersalmanac.publicradio.org/). The Writer's Almanac is a daily poetry reading, and almanac of important literary events. The poem that grabbed me, made me sit up in my car seat, was Song of the Open Road, but Walt Whitman. Whitman is my favorite poet. He is my kind of romantic. He's a lover of women and men, adventure, and beauty it's varied forms. He's a rambler.
Here are the first few verses of Song of the Open Road.
AFOOT and light-hearted, I take to the open road,
Healthy, free, the world before me,
The long brown path before me, leading wherever I choose.
Henceforth I ask not good-fortune—I myself am good fortune;
Henceforth I whimper no more, postpone no more, need nothing,
Strong and content, I travel the open road.
The earth—that is sufficient;
I do not want the constellations any nearer;
I know they are very well where they are;
I know they suffice for those who belong to them.
The poem is MUCH longer. Whitman could have used an editor! But there are nuggets of amazing and unparalleled beauty hidden in there, just like the roads upon which we travel.
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