by John F. Kendall

Created on: March 13, 2009   Last Updated: March 14, 2009

Is free verse really poetry?

Unfortunately, it is.

A number of years ago while muddling through graduate studies, I came upon a young woman in her twenties with whom I struck up a conversation. I don't remember why I did this - most likely I was bored with my own work - but I did it. As our conversation progressed, she asked me what my employment consisted of and I responded that I wrote for joy but taught to eat. I, in turn, inquired about what she was pursuing and she replied with a stern gaze, "I am a poet!"

As my undergraduate degree was chiefly in the study and analysis of poetry, I was interested in this. I stated that I wrote a bit of poetry as well and that I would like to hear or read some of hers sometime. Remarkably, she was willing to have me do so and by the most amazing coincidence had a few examples with her. She produced these, I read them, and found myself in that most embarrassing of situations - having to act positive about something that you don't care for.

I can't remember what I said but it must have been pleasant enough because I was invited out to an evening of poetry reading at a local venue. I hesitated in considering this but I thought it would be pleasant to meet a few other writers and to see and hear what other people were doing. I agreed, was given the particulars of the event, and we parted on terms of friendly acquaintance.

On the agreed upon evening, I showed up at the coffeehouse cum reading stage and sat down to listen. It was as I expected to be. There were a number of writers who said interesting things. Some said them very well and others simply said them. When it was my new friend's turn, she ascended the stage with a guitarist she knew and began to assault the audience with a vehemence I was completely unprepared for.

What she read sounded to me like the rant of a young woman in the middle of an argument. It had great emotion. It had wonderfully fluctuating dynamics. The language used was ... pedestrian. What she expressed struck me as forceful but not overwhelmingly insightful.

When she was finished and descended from the stage, two or three young women of about eighteen years of age rushed up and congratulated her.

"You were wonderful!" one of them exclaimed.

"You are so powerful and so talented!" said another.

My acquaintance accepted these laurels with a smile and graciousness that was remarkable - especially when it came from the same person who moments before had seemed ready to strike out at the world. I felt that it must

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