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What Does National Poetry Month Mean to You?
Disappointment disappointment disappointment
It’s National Poetry Month again. Yay.
I used to think this mattered. I’d participate in 30 day poem challenges, writing something new every day, and hoping to turn it into a book. I’d read books by contemporary poets and share their work on social media. I’d go to open mic nights and feel like I was doing my part to celebrate the joy of the written word. But now? Now, I just don’t give a shit.
Perhaps I’ve grown too cynical. But the fact of the matter is, modern culture’s definition of “poetry” has become nothing but cheap sentiment and a culture of passing memes off as some kind of newfound wisdom. Today I searched poetry on Amazon, and was immediately hit with an ad for a new poetry book by “yung pueblo” that has over 4,100 reviews, a book that came out last year. I clicked on it to see what made it so special.
What I found was yet another Instagram poet, published by the same publishing company as Rupi Kaur and Atticus: Andrews McMeel Publishing. This publisher seems to be going through Instagram and picking the most likely copycats to thrust onto the masses of Rupi Kaur fans to churn into instant bestsellers. Unfortunately, the tactic appears to be working for them.
