How my kids will learn poetry?

We live in unsettling, uncertain and unpredictable times. The words as we know it have change their form, they are not a communication tool anymore, they don't dig our souls and hearts anymore, they are algorithms, set of command, a reflex to demanding action. 

This is extremely bad news for the poetry lovers. Those who remember new words, their meanings, their pronunciations and their contextualized multiple meanings, they utter these words as if it is sacred verse, they emote with these words and their heart beats with these words. There are thousand of words, rhymes, songs, narratives, discourses, stories and representation of our situation associated with those poems. As if these verses defined us, as if they knew our life, as if these emotions are our tiny truths buried in our chests. Some of the verses were tears, some were joy, and some were shining stars that lights up the sky on a certain dark night. 

Poetry was solace. It was a hope. The literature was sacred to me. It is collective memory of the great minds of 19th century. We lived, relived and died with those characters and novels. Sometimes the hero that died for her beloved was me waiting to die for my beloved, but in real world I might not have courage, but in the world of poetry and novel I died for her, I killed for her, I conquered for her, I had empire of my own and that world of mine was more real than the life I lived : mundane, ordinary and so mediocre. So unnoticed. So unbothered. Without adventure. Without revenge. Without violence and without any extraordinary event that could have been a significant memory. In the world of my books, I lived all my characters. All my heroes, all my heroines and all my villains. The stories were about me. My unlived lives and unloved loves.

AI on my phone teaches rhymes to my three years old son: twinkle twinkle little star : and my son's eyes are not shining, he doesn't looks at sky to see the stars. For him, its just a poem, an event, an anamoly and just a YouTube video. We used to sing it in class by welcoming the whole sky as if we are stars. As if we were shining. And we used to wonder who we are. Where we are. You see poetry used to have sense of curiosity in our minds. The exploration. The idea of digging eachother soul. Sometimes we used poems, verses and movies when we had nothing to tell each other to console, to love and to empathise. 

With one blink of eye. All my childhood is gone. No one is not even sad about it.