My friends know that I am not a big fan of poems. In fact, I am a minimalist in all aspects but one.
The one being words.
I relish in excessive words, my favorite offense probably being run-on sentences. Not only in writing, but speaking, too— once I started, it would be hard to stop, I struggled to control the number of words that poured from my faucet of ideas. Eventually, as I matured, I managed to get ahold of my mouth, and the oral faucet dripped dry, though what came through my fingers never did pause.
I will be the first to admit that I absolutely loathed the idea of the poetry unit, but thought I’d give it a try and see if I could change my perspective on using minimal verbiage to convey astronomical ideas.
Hemmingway was not the only one who helped me realize that stark, naked words can be just as powerful if not more than excess. Words don’t always need to be dressed up, to be covered in elaborate, flowery adjectives or stuffed to the brim with fanciful diction; sometimes, less is indeed more. During the poetry unit, I thought back to my childhood, and searched my memory for short pieces that managed to catch my eye (there were not many) and found myself returning to Robert Frost’s Fire and Ice.
I’ve always been fascinated by the elements, especially concepts that explored the manipulation of them; to be able to wield the power of nature seemed like such a raw concept because of the pure, unadulterated power each element holds. Although I’m sure I did not understand a single word when I first read it, musing over it once again provided to be quite a reflective experience.
Some say the world will end in fire,
Some say in ice.
From what I’ve tasted of desire
I hold with those who favor fire.
But if it had to perish twice,
I think I know enough of hate
To know that for destruction ice
Is also great
And would suffice.
~ Robert Frost
I’ve been in enough arguments to know the two sides of anger: overwhelming anger that fuels fiery flames of fury, or the biting hatred of frosty looks and cold shoulders. Funnily enough, whenever I get into misunderstandings and arguments with someone I hold dear to my heart, I always feel as if the world is ending, so it was particularly amusing to myself when I compared Frost’s words to my own. I’m sure Frost did not intend Fire and Ice to reflect teenage angst, and therein definitely lies a deeper meaning beneath the references of ice and fire. But for now, I prefer to bask in my newfound appreciation for brevity and the beautiful turmoil of human emotion.