When I was in sixth grade a visiting poet came and taught my class for a day. If you could see passion and beauty and joy for life in colors, she radiated like a rainbow — and I thought to myself maybe someday I’d like to do that too. Flash Forward 10 years to college graduate me setting out with Poetry Major in hand, to teach at the school I once attended. But I was no poet, and my rainbow had dimmed by seminars full of greybeards and their pupils who took passion and beauty and joy for life SO SERIOUSLY. Art need not be serious to be strong (though there is a place for that always), and poetry can be playful and profound, intelligent without being cerebral. Like having a wonderful conversation with your most colorful friend.
Enter Frank O’Hara:
If you love this poem, there is more, oh so much more to love of this brilliant American poet that you can find HERE.
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