I'm starting a new feature on this blog for Monday mornings: favorite poems. Every Monday, I'll post a poem (or a link to one), and it'll always be a poem that I consider one of my favorites. It'll help me (and maybe you) to take a deep breath and relax a bit as the crazy work week begins.
By the way, I have a LOT of favorite poems, so this feature will be around for a long time.
Today's feature is a poem on poetry itself:
I, too, dislike it: there are things that are important beyond all
Reading it, however, with a perfect contempt for it, one
it after all, a place for the genuine.
Hands that can grasp, eyes
that can dilate, hair that can rise
if it must ...
These are the opening lines to "Poetry," by American poet Marianne Moore. You can read the whole thing (with the correct indents and line breaks) here.