Words worth reading

It's happened at least a dozen times. I've just finished a poetry reading at a bookstore or charity event, and a man -- it's almost always a man -- comes to shake my hand. He's smiling, and he has a wide-eyed, startled look about him. "I don't generally like poetry," he begins, "but I really enjoyed this."

I always try to imagine the poor fellow's dread as he is being dragged to hear what he thinks will be a lot like Mrs. Belcher's eighth-grade classroom, where he was called on to give an explanation of how the metrical pattern and rhyme scheme of a poem by William Wordsworth (he doesn't remember that it was Wordsworth) reflected its meaning in terms of the progression of the seasons it described. He suffered through a long and embarrassing silence as the class waited for his critical analysis.

When poetry is taught as former U.S. poet laureate Billy Collins has quipped by "strapping it to a chair and beating a confession out of it," it can take all the spunk out of one of the most spunky literary genres. And apparently there are a lot of folks still walking around with a sour taste for poetry in their mouths after being part of its torture. It makes me wonder when the fellow who says he doesn't "generally" read poetry last read a poem, particularly one by someone who is still knocking about and noticing how the seasons are progressing these days.

If you aren't reading contemporary poetry, you're missing some of the liveliest, most entertaining and emotionally strong writing being committed today.

In many ways, poetry is the hummingbird of literature -- fast, agile, full of flash and making a pleasing buzz in flight. Poetry can deliver a punch, tell a joke or capture a whole way of life in a very short space. You don't have to be extra smart to "get" it. God knows if that were the case, I surely wouldn't understand the stuff.

And to be honest, about a third of what's been written and called poetry these days, I don't understand or get any charge out of. But that's the great thing about contemporary art of any kind. Somebody's putting it down, and you can pick up on it or not. So, in coming months I'll be using this space to tell you about poets and books of poetry that I'm picking up on, that in one way or another I find pleasing. I may, from time to time, tell you about some I find unpleasing, but I would prefer to use the space and time to sing the praises of -- rather than rattle the cages of -- other poets.

Some of the poets that will be mentioned here will be my friends -- that can't be helped since I'm privileged to be friends with some of the state's, and country's, finest poets. If I'm talking about a buddy, I'll always give you a heads-up. My goal will always be to present poetry in its best light and to encourage you to read it and make your own call.

With this column, I take over the spot held by North Carolina's literary treasure Fred Chappell. Fred is poet, short story writer, essayist and novelist nonpareil. I know his aren't just big shoes; they're canoes, and Fred steered them unerringly through all the rapids. For my part, I'll bump along to be best of my ability. And before this metaphor gets any further out of hand, I'll make my exit.

Let me just say that if you want to see metaphors kept firmly, and wonderfully, in hand, do yourself a favor and go find some Elizabeth Bishop, Seamus Heaney, Robert Pinsky, Tom Andrews or Marianne Boruch (just to randomly grab good books off my shelf) and give them a read. Relax. Take your time. If one poem doesn't please you, move on to another. Mrs. Belcher isn't going to give a test at the end of class. You won't have to write an essay. Like any book you pick up, you can just say, "Hey, I liked that." Or "That was awful." But when it's good, and those folks I mentioned are good, you can truly discover a word's worth.

(Michael Chitwood is author of five books of poetry, including "The Weave Room" and, most recently "From Whence.")