Posts Tagged ‘national poetry writing month’

Right Poem, Wrong Assignment

April 24, 2018

Today I had my fourth graders write about something small, taken for granted, or unappreciated. We started with a poem I wrote and shared about lowly feet. Then it was time for the kids and me to get cracking.

I meant to do the assignment along with them. I really did. But I couldn’t think of ANYTHING to write. So after a few minutes of being blank (which felt like an eternity) it struck me that perhaps boredom itself goes unappreciated.

In I went to compose a poem elevating boredom through poetry. But then a different poem came out. It’s still one I kind of like, so I’m sharing it here.

The kids still have me on the hook for the real assignment, though.

Boredom

When my pencil
(poised above paper) awaits,
Anxious to do the bidding
Of my master/mind
Yet no command comes
A standoff:
As my hands
(eager to get moving) wonder
What is wrong with
The machine that moves them
And my mind
(unused to blankness) panics
When finding itself
In silence.

So my imagination
(relenting to this break in the action) sighs,
Succumbs to numbness,
Twiddles its thumbs
And waits
For a lost, lonely idea
To find its way
Home.

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More Important Things

April 23, 2018

Once again, I got to enjoy composing alongside my students today. This group of fourth graders was also working on “important” poetry, but we decided on pencils as our object. Here’s my contribution:

The Important Poem

The important thing about a pencil
Is that it is sharp.
It’s long, it’s yellow
And you can twirl it between fingers
If you teach yourself how.
It gets shorter and shorter, especially
When you sharpen it to the perfect point
And blow on it
Because that’s what you do.
And whether it is
Fresh-out-of-the-box-new, or
Worn down to a tiny
Eraserless nub that you
Pinch in your fingertips,
It will still take
All of the pictures
That circle your brain
And give them to the rest of the world.
But the important thing about a pencil
Is that it is sharp.

When the Writing Gets Tough

April 2, 2017

First of all, happy poetry month!

Those of you who read my blog know that I enjoy writing alongside my kids. I like to share my work and my struggles with them.

The week before break, I asked the kids to take on an ambitious poem: to title and write a piece about an important person in their lives, but to do it only by describing something in nature. The reader must be able to make the connection through the text.

Which worked out great, until I hit the source of inspiration for my poem. My brother. My brother, who died two years ago this month. My brother, who sometimes makes his presence known through dreams, or ladybugs, or rainbows, or just the random odd moment that leaves me unable to catch my breath.

It was heavy lifting. I wanted to push this poem to the side, especially when working with students at the same table. I just…couldn’t ignore the need to write. Below is what came to me. It’s ragged around the edges, and it wants more attention than I’m giving it right now, but here it is.

 

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What to do
When the poem choosing me
Stills my pen?

If I could, I would
Tell them
Of my brother the rainbow
The smile-bringer
The color-giver
The everything-is-ok-er

But then, I must
Tell them
Of my brother the rainbow
Who went away
Who disappeared too soon
Who only comes to me in the glints, glimpses
I’m ready to see.

I think their hearts
Could absorb
Those droplets of grief
But I worry
That one moment they
(Remembering my rainbow)
Look upon their brother
Or sister
Or mirror
And see
That they, too
Are just rainbows.

Mother’s Lament (NaPoWriMo Day 9)

April 9, 2013

I can taste it,
Like the first bite of a hot-fudge sundae
Or a gooey, cheesy pizza
So delightful
Rich
Decadent,
Yet well-deserved.

I long for it
From deep within my bones
I hunger
I ache

For a
Good
Night’s
Sleep

Do You Remember Me? National Poetry Month, Day 5

April 5, 2013

Do You Remember Me?

You…
You, with that faded bonnet,
The microscopic handwriting,
The comics you drew me,
The moldy mess we excavated from your desk,
The orange sweatshirt you always wore,
The April Fool’s joke you played on the class,

How you didn’t speak until February,
How your grandma was your rock,
How you asked question after question after question,
How I worried about the sadness I sometimes saw in you
How I carried so much of you with me:
Your essays, your homework, your worries…

…You.

You, who I sent out like ripples
Wondering,
Awaiting your return
Like a present
I get to keep opening.

 

Why I write – Poetry month day 4

April 4, 2013

Why I Write

There is a certain
Satisfaction
That comes with cooking a good meal.
It’s the love stirred in
The effort of smelling, tasting, listening, editing
Until it seems just right
And the hungry ones take it in
And where there was once noise
There is the quiet
Of grateful and appreciative chewing.

And I think,
This is what I made, this piece
Of me I served out.
They like it,
And they are
Eating it up.

Priorities (National Poetry Month Day 3)

April 3, 2013

Priorities

Sometimes when I shower, I
(full of distractions) grip the soap
Too tightly, and
It pops right out of my hand.

I used to
Reach for it blindly,
Block it with my elbow,
Slow it down with my knee,
All to keep it from
Hitting the shower floor;
A valiant effort
That many times worked.

Until
One morning, my distracted self once again
Grabbed the soap.
As it slipped through my hands,
Time
Slowed
Down
And I thought
Well, maybe.
Maybe it would be okay this time
And no one would be hurt
And no one would get angry
And heroics look silly anyway
And I maybe could just

Let
It
Fall.