We find ourselves wondering why is, and what is poetry? Poetry was the television of its day. The poets and playwrights were the entertainers of their times. We remember best the likes of Shakespeare or Browning as the classical poets and writers to mention just two.
However, most people do not realize that William Shakespeare might be closer to our Tyler Perry of today. Shakespeare, like Perry, was a playwright and entertainer of mass appeal, of the low-life, and the common folk. Likewise, both writers seek to amuse, out-wit, and befuddle with their crafts, using creative elements. Robert Browning may have been more like James Brown, to those of his day. As Stevie Wonder, Marvin Gaye and the great William "Smokey" Robinson prove to be classic entertainers of our era. I, as an African American, understand best the similarities in the Classic American poets, like Robert Frost and Walt Whitman, who to me are the white versions of Dunbar and Hughes. To my liking, they in their time and place, and well as by their calling spoke to what our Black and white masses wished to be expressed. It is no secret that all people wish to have a voice, and to be acknowledged as validated as members of humankind. It is also no wonder why most required and requited reading have an overbearing to the western, mainly, Anglo-white writers. Maybe our struggles, as non-whites are not only in the "streets," but also in the classrooms, on the televisions, in the parks - anywhere culture is determined. And was it not the poet, Black Gil-Scott Heron who composed that theme which cried out, "The Revolution Will Not Be Televised?" So it goes, Click, click, click, as many have tuned out, and are not turned on to knowledge, unless it makes them laugh." And so, goes the struggles of the poets, the voices, which also try to inform. "What? What? What? Goes Little John out and in comes Hip Hop - entertaining us, inter-mingling with us; but maybe, it's just "talking loud and saying nothing," as James Brown, composed. Fredrick Douglas said, "Without struggle, there can be no progress." In the mind of this humble poet, we must all be going very far, because we all seem to be struggling with one thing or another. Amen.
Finally, this humble writer calls this book The Everlasting Poet, perhaps, because it will be my final task as your writer of poetry. I ask not to continue being with my poetry, also, since it has been a part of my life a long time. Maybe, it is also the heat of the summer or the demand of work, or even the futility of the poet's position as "the whipping-boy" to all who lack any real understanding. So be it! It is with grace that I struggle and by grace that I have indeed written. The Everlasting Poet is my conclusion, but may never become the fact of any true ending.
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