Analyze,
Understand,
Comprehend,
Make more of a poem than what it is.
I'm at a desk,
Pencil in hand,
With a teacher on a rant.
They talk about the poet's reason,
The subtext,
The morale.
I find it hard to believe they knew what was really written.
While they dissect the words,
Thinking every word's a metaphor,
A simile,
I just read the poem,
I feel the rhythm,
A steady beat,
And I think of what it means to me.
For poems can make different people think different things.
The poet's purpose,
My teacher's conclusion,
To believe their interpretations,
Is not the solution.
The rhymes,
The words,
Are my own puzzle to solve.
What they mean to me matters more,
Whether I take it as a metaphor,
As a moral,
As a description,
Those words speak to my heart in a different language,
Than it does to yours.
Perspective makes a poem change,
I think that's a wonderful thing,
But I just ask you not to force your opinions on me.
In this poem,
I will believe what I believe,
And hear what I need,
Whether it's what the author meant means nothing to me.
So leave me be,
And just let me read,
To see what I think this poem means.
