Students, teachers use poetry as a tool for living

Having students write poetry on a regular basis frees them from some of the constraints of regular academic writing. In so doing, it can introduce them to the joy, power and relevance of verbal creative expression.

At the same time, poetry — particularly free verse — can present an accessible personal context for application of the writing process, pre-writing, composition, editing, revision and reflection. Even when responding to a specified prompt, poetry offers limitless latitude for expression. Sometimes even unconsciously, young writers learn purposeful use of language and gain a sense that words do, in fact, matter.

I write with my poetry students every day and the experience is just as therapeutic for me as it is for them. This aspect of writing and sharing compositions aloud can be an epiphany for many. We share personal stories and perspectives that might otherwise be glossed over or flat-out buried. Some will dig deeper than they ever have, revealing themselves in new ways. This captivates and inspires others to do the same, and together we discover courage we never realized we possessed.

From a language arts perspective, poetic writing is additionally a perfect foundation on which to base conversations on the practicalities of rhythm, word choice, tone, pacing, imagery, and alliteration. All have application in prose, whether narrative, analytical or informative writing. Think of an excellent nonfiction book you couldn’t put down, where the words had a lyrical, captivating buoyancy that just carried you along. There is poetry in good prose, whether written or spoken.

I hope you enjoy the following sample of some recent work by four Burchell High School students. They skillfully demonstrate how poetry is a tool for living — one they will carry long beyond high school.

I Am From

Anonymous

I am from

Gravel roads and mobile homes

Un-manicured lawns

And chained dogs

Gray skies and walking to the mailbox

I am from

Tension and fear

Secret phone calls and hushed voices

Strangers’ houses

Concerned friends

And the close dark of closets

Sleepless nights

Wide eyes

Uncertainty and dread

But this is not all there is to me

I am from

blazing fires and worn clothes

Protecting arms

Guiding voices

Books of intrigue, loss, adventure

Hot food

Cold drinks

Filling and whole

I am from

Soft grass and unrelenting weeds

Mesmerizing sunsets

Stars like a thousand tiny lanterns

Waiting

Protecting

Pine forests

Gentle deer

My life has been tentative

But it is full.

A Pin Drops

By Auto Garrett

A pin drops

The room is silent

The world pauses for a moment

Everything stops

After a single second

A bark of laughter shoves its way into the air

Voices of many join in

Peals of laughter resound in the ears of a broken boy

He lays there on the ground

Broken, defeated

Unable to get away

Blood drips from his temple

But no one asks if he is OK

The other who attacked

Joins the crowd and his friends

He laughs, too

As if what he’d just done was nothing

He walks away

And with him the crowd goes, too

The broken, beaten boy

Stands, but leans on a wall for support

How sad it is

That in a world of billions of people

The only thing that holds him up

Is a cold, unloving wall.

Letter to the

Present Me

By Chance Gagnon

Dear pair of eyes looking back at me from the mirror,

We have always been that kid at

The rear of the class.

The one who gets beaten daily,

By us.

But no more.

Today we will momentarily stop the press

And resolve our differences.

Me and myself,

In constant battle over who we are.

Well, I’m telling myself now

That we can come out of our strife

And drop the knife that we used for slashing at ourselves,

All the while gnashing our teeth.

Together we will sheath that blade of woe,

Stop tearing ourselves apart,

Bandage the stubbed toe,

And re-glue the many times shattered heart.

Today I call a truce with you,

To stop the coup of self-hate,

We need to make up,

Before it’s too late.

Sincerely,

Me

Make-Up

By Tristan Thompson

Make-up… Hide your face.

Wear it like a mask,

an everyday task.

She wakes

then starts the morning process,

stares into the mirror,

a little eye liner, eye shadow,

still a work in progress.

Going through the day,

a compliment here, a compliment there,

maybe a little stare.

But she’s unaware of the true beauty underneath the mask.

So… by the end of the day,

she washes it all away,

just to start again the next day.