Collage Poems

The end of the school year approaches. Mutiny is brewing among the poetry crew, and for the past few weeks I've heard countless versions of the following complaint: "Miss Sarah, we write all day at school! Why do we need to write more?" It was a question I didn't have an answer for. I always try to make class fun, but these kids were clearly exhausted by the endless work and craving something more light-hearted. So I've come up with a few new poetry games and art-writing fusions to move beyond the typical "read, discuss, write" model. This class on poetry collages was the first attempt.

I passed out ten-page packets of famous and not-so-famous poems for them to skim through. Using this raw material, they cut and pasted words, phrases, lines, and whole stanzas to create a new poem, mixing different voices in surprising new ways. Many were especially drawn to "As I Grew Older" by Langston Hughes, mixing up the lines and weaving in just a few images from elsewhere.

This week, the girls were unusually quiet and focused as they worked, and I even had time to make a collage of my own. It was a nice change to work alongside them instead of constantly circling around the room. Collages from class:

Effervescence gush It was a long time ago
I have almost forgotten my dream
And now the crickets play But it was there then
In front of me
-Saruro

some say the world will end in fire
it was a long time ago when the world exploded
that was cool
-Safia

I have almost forgotten my dream.
It was a long time ago,
a thousand lights of sun.
Only the thick wall,
Only the shadow.
My hands!
My dark hands!
Help me to shatter this darkness,
to smash this night,
to break this shadow.
And we soar up into the summer stars.
Summer. The big sky river rushes overhead.
-Dahiro


Help me to shatter this darkness
old and grey and full of sleep
bearing asteroids and mist, blind fish
old space suits with skeletons inside

I have almost forgotten my dream:
two rivers burning bright - one sap and one root -
cracked hands - half-eaten moon - thousand lights of sun

I lie down in the shadow, press an ear against its hive
-"Miss Sarah"

Remember

I read the girls "Remember" by Joy Harjo, and a response written by a fourth-grade boy. After talking about favorite lines and the use of repetition in the poem, I asked them to write their own, repeating the word "remember" at the beginning of each line. What did they want their readers to remember about the world? What joy or pain did they want to share with others?

Remember when the stars were
playing with the moon and having fun.
Remember why the sky and the bird
were fighting and then became friends again.
Remember when the cars were trying to go
to the sky and fly in the sky and trying to put
their shoes up in the sky.
-Adout

Remember when dinosaurs were
alive. Remember when my brother
ruined my cake. Remember
when the stars helped you.
Remember when I was laughing
so hard that I even died.
-Safia

To Anna
Remember when you were playing outside?
Remember when you were happy in the sun?
Remember when boys weren't jerks and didn't lie?
Remember when we were laughing and you weren't sad?
-Melisa

Translations

Only two girls in class this time, so we headed outside to write. I had brought in a few poems written in foreign languages for them to "translate" into English based on how the words looked and sounded. They found the whole poems to be a little overwhelming, so they instead made a long list of English words "translated" from the poem and then used those words in an original poem:

When I say the word misoka
the color pink comes out of my eyes.
The word misoka sounds like enjoying
a day in the sunshine. Misoka is wine
like Safia said that her paper is flying away.
Misoka is like laughing. Safia's beautiful
laugh makes the beautiful sun come out. I love when
Safia laughs. Misoka is riding a bike
on a nice day with my friends and running.
-Adout

The lemon is eating the fox.
The lemon is huge and the fox
is just a tiny baby. In Colombia,
people use aprons to catch food
like a fishing net. The sea is transporting
camels from desert to desert. Cinnamon
makes me remember campers fighting
for justice. Safia owns the camp. Safia
is not how she usually is. She is going
crazy all over the place, and her friend
Adout is trying to calm her down.
Safia likes to compose herself and she
likes the lemons. Giant lemons,
because they are her friends.
-Safia

After they were finished, they chose to write a few color poems like the ones they've been writing in school:

What is red?
Red is a fire truck siren, red is a hydrant.
Red is a hummingbird feeder, an electric guitar.
Red is Safia's scarf shining and helping the sun shine too.
When you cut yourself, red is your blood. Red is
a valentine's heart to give to someone you love.
Red is a cherry, an apple, an Indian fig.
Red. You can taste it as you bite it.
-Safia

Flowers are blue, blue is candy, blue is a bike,
blue is a sled. Blue is in love with the color pink.
Blue is a star, a lake, a car driving everywhere.
Blue is a friend that loves to make friends.
Blue said that she is a girl and she likes my teacher.
-Adout

Safia then wrote a longer piece about her scarf. It's nice to improvise with a smaller group!

My red scarf shines bright and helps the sun shine too. When I wear it the sun shines, and when I don't the sky is dark. My grandma bought it in a marketplace in Kenya and forgot to give it to me before I left Africa. When she came to America, she left it in Rochester, NY, so there was still no way for me to get the scarf. So one day I went to Rochester and my grandma gave me the red scarf and a yellow one, bright and sparkly. Together they looked orange, just like my dress. It reminds me of my grandma when I wear it, sitting lonely with her children all gone.
-Safia

Creation Myths

For this lesson, I read the girls a few stories from Marduk the Mighty, a great book of international creation stories by Andrew Matthews. I asked them a few questions: What was here before the universe? How did this world come to be? What about plants, animals, and people? They answered these questions in their own creation myths using dreams, things they'd heard in school or church, and things they just made up:

In Africa the world was dark and there was nothing, not even shoes. There were no cities or cars or people. Then out of the darkness, a voice came saying, "Wake up!" And the deserts woke up and the jungles woke up and the water woke up.
-Asho

In the beginning there were plants and trees. There was a sky filled with clouds, moon, and sun. The sun was making the plants grow and turn the world into a desert. The moon was making darkness. The plants grew to be a cactus. The sun also made trees grow so they could grow fruit for the apes to eat. Later in the year the apes learned everything that humans know so they became human. The darkness made rain, which made a river. The humans dug a big circle and turned it into an ocean. There were fishes, dolphins, whales, octopus, and jellyfish living in the ocean. Then one of these animals in the ocean created a bunch of shells so they'd have a house. Also there were birds and the birds came from nature. There were cats, dogs, horses, cows, skunks, raccoons, and squirrels. God created them.
-Melisa and Safia

In the beginning there was the sun and the sun grew and made a tree. Aliens were coming. They lived in the world and left and then the animals came. And the rain started raining and made oceans and rivers and sharks. Animals started going into the rivers. Apes started being people and people came from apes.
-Adout

Ekphrastic Poems

Sorry for my long absence! I've taught four classes since my last post, but I've really lagged behind in posting to this blog. I'll do a whirlwind update today, then get back into the regular rhythm of one post per week.

For this lesson, I brought in several full-color art books from the library and had each student choose a painting or other artwork they'd like to write about. They were encouraged to write from inside the picture and use all their senses to explore what was happening. Here are some results:

I am green and red
with flowers. Please
wear me because
I am pretty. We'll go
to a dance party
and we will sway
like the ocean
to guitars and drums
under the stars.
-Abshiro, after "Self Portrait" by Carmen Lomas Garza

She is a famous person and
she is outside. Oil painting.
Her eyes follow you
everywhere. She looks happy.
People were sad when she died.

The background of the village looks
like war. The color is gold-black.
Tornado coming from far away.
People being poor.
-Safia, after "Mona Lisa" by Leonardo da Vinci

If I was resting in this flower it would be like resting on a cloud with the sun shining on my face and smells like perfume and pink cherry. The stamen looks like a green banana peel. The inside of the flower is like a dark cave with sounds like paper. I have never seen a flower like this one before.
-Khadijo, after "Two Calla Lilies on Pink" by Georgia O'Keefe

He looks like a worm. He looks like a rainbow. He's pretty and nice. He looks curly. He's the longest snake ever. He's playing! He's on the ground in the city. He's powerful and if someone steps on him he'll probably still be alive. He eats cookies. He has a bunch of friends. He has a girlfriend named Francine, the most beautiful snake you've ever seen. He likes to swim in the water.
-Adout, after "Sneaky Snake" by Calvert Norton

Things I Didn't Know I Loved

Back after a long spring break! Today I shared a few passages from a poem by Nazim Hikmet, a Turkish writer who spent much of his adult life as a political prisoner. In the poem, we find him riding a train from Prague to Berlin, watching the world rush by the window and celebrating all the things he never realized he loved: earth, rivers, rainy nights, sparks flying from the engine.

I asked the girls to think of something they had taken for granted, something they didn't even know they loved until it was gone. It could be a small detail about their life back in Africa, a moment shared with a friend or family member who died or moved away, or an object they lost and then missed terribly. Or their poetry could be more like Hikmet's, an effort to notice the everyday beauty surrounding them right now. Here are a few student poems:

I never knew I liked the cat
until I petted her and she
purred like her bones
were breaking.

I never knew I liked Emily
until I made chocolate chip
cookies in her kitchen
under her colorful star light.

I never knew I liked washing dishes,
the bubbles and the soap, and the way
they said pop-pop-pop in my hands.
-Abshiro

The first time I came here I looked at the sky,
and I never knew I liked the sky. The sky
looked different to me and I was
scared because it looked so high.
I didn't know I liked how you smelled
like the donut shop because it made me
hungry, but then I missed it when
you were gone.
-Adout

I didn't know I liked the sun making me hot until the winter.
I didn't know I liked cats until one day I touched one, and it felt soft like ice cream.
I didn't know I liked reading until I read a story. I felt smart and happy.
I didn't know I liked Emily until she went away.
-Saruro

Borrowed Lines

Today I brought in a list of lines from other poems. After reading them aloud and discussing unfamiliar words, each child picked a favorite to serve as a title or first line. I've tried this lesson before, and I love to see how different groups respond in totally different ways. My students at Lawrence Barnes were more drawn to wild, surreal images, and this class preferred simple, down-to-earth ones. Though each poet chose a different line, every single one wrote about night in one way or another:

Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting.
When I was born I forgot
where I was from. Did I come
from Mars or Jupiter? Was I
a donkey being a slave?
A cat scratching people?
When I was born there
was a war, guns shooting,
but I can't remember.
-Safia

Do not go gentle into that good night.
It is dark and the moon
and stars are shining. I hear
frogs and crickets
in the night and I
hear owls.
-Saruro

I stop to smell
the night and
it smells
fresh. If you
close your
eyes it feels
like you
fly.
-Dahiro

those of you in the night sky above the moon:
moon the moon is light, it will always be light.
stars stars always move, anywhere they like.
cloud cloud makes person's face, and it moves anywhere.
-Asho

When I look at the moon I see beautiful stars, they look pretty as flowers. When I look in the moon I see my family, and I always like to look in the moon. When I look in the moon I see my friends having fun with me. Looking in the moon is fun.
-Adout

Food Poems

When the City Market cashier gave me the "Umm, are you pregnant?" look, I knew I had selected a good assortment of foods for my poetry class: the classic combination of pickles, peanut butter, garlic, and chocolate-chip cookies. Yum.

In class, I had the kids eat the foods slowly and give me words for what each one tasted like:

Pickles: sour, vinegary, lemony, sharp, hot, spicy, salty
Peanut Butter: smooth, sweet, creamy, heavy, sticky
Garlic: gross, stinky, strong, bitter, sharp
Cookies: sweet, rich, soft, creamy, chocolatey, sugary

We talked about how eating involves all the senses: seeing the food, hearing what sound it makes when chewed, smelling it, tasting it, and feeling its texture. Surprisingly, dill pickle spears were the biggest hit. They ate the whole jar and even slurped up the juice in paper cups. I asked them to choose one or more foods to write about, using all of their senses and at least one metaphor. The poems were not as serious as in previous weeks, and Adout especially enjoyed writing hers. After mixing three clashing ingredients together, she said, "Ew, that's so stinky." I said, "Stinky as what?" and a very funny (and frank) piece of writing was born.

I mix the pickle juice with the chocolate and peanut butter and it stinks like a skunk. Nobody would love to drink it. Sometimes cheese can be smelly like a skunk when it is tooting. It also stinks like a dog poop. If I tell someone to drink it they will say, "NO! That thing looks like a skunk and it stinks."
-Adout

Pickles are sweet, I like them.
When I drink the juice my belly
feels like when I drink hot coffee.
The pickle juice smells like
acorns. It makes you feel
orange.
-Asho

it's colorful candy it looks like a rainbow
it smells like sugar and ice cream
it feels red and it tastes like chocolate
-Saruro

Seven Word Spill

Today we played a game called Seven Word Spill, an idea from the VSA Arts national network. I had each student choose seven word cards from a bowl, then scramble them on the table, thinking of surprising ways to combine them in sentences. After practicing for a few minutes, I invited them to write a poem including as many words as possible, changing word endings if they liked. Some used all their words early in the poem and selected a few more to challenge themselves.

This is my galaxy.
This is my big sister.
Every night we see an owl in the tree
and every day we stand at the river to fish.
Stay quiet today.
Everything is here now.
It is time to write.
Go take a paper and spill out your words.
When I'm drumming, my seed turns into plants.
My skin is ice.
This is my galaxy.
-Asho

Under a tree I read a book. I fall asleep and I dream the tree is blooming with fire and the sky looks like midnight.
-Dahiro

When I see the light I always sing a song.
I always like to sing and dance.
When I tell my friend a secret, she never tells anybody.
I see a candle. I like the way it burns.
I like my voice when I'm singing, and my voice likes me.
When I sing this song it makes my brother go up and down.
-Adout

Indian Ocean
Light blue like the sky without rain,
she whispers to me from planet earth.
When I touch her, I feel like I'm home
eating a cherry. She feels like fox fur,
clouds covering the moon.
Me and the ocean have secrets for each other.
I promise the ocean I won't tell anyone she speaks to me.
-Safia

Photographs

Today I brought in several black and white cover portraits from my favorite magazine, The Sun. I asked the girls to look at the people's faces and choose one they felt especially drawn to. Once everyone had chosen a photograph, we sat in a circle, and I led the students through a guided meditation.

"I want you to stare into the person's eyes. Look past their age, their gender, the color of their skin. Try to see into their heart. What do they remember? What has caused them great pain? Great joy? What do they fear more than anything? Try to imagine their families, their histories, what has brought them to this moment, this place. What are they feeling right now? What are they seeing, hearing, smelling, and tasting? What are they longing to say? Try to imagine what they wish for, what hope they have for the future."

I gave them a few minutes to get to know their person in silence, and then instructed them to write a poem answering whichever questions they liked, and using details wherever possible. When a few poets had trouble getting started, I suggested they take on the person's point of view, writing a letter from inside the photograph. Here are two poems using that approach:

I'm dreaming about my family.
Our food smells sweet and we're sharing
bowls of soup. We eat together every night.
I hear soft talking.
I hear dishes being washed.
Outside the wind is whistling.
Our hearts are filled with shining light.
-Asho

I'm worried about my family.
In my country where I was born
there is war, guns shooting.
I can't go outside to buy
food for my children. My husband
died in the war and I cried all night long.
What I wish is that this war would be over
just once. I wish I could get my family
back together. I wish for peace and freedom.
-Safia

Sky Tree

It's great to be back at Wheeler for the winter session. I have a small, mellow group of girls, including two previous students. For our first class, we looked at Sky Tree by Thomas Locker, which follows one tree through the seasons. The girls were in awe of the paintings and loved watching the landscapes change. They were particularly sensitive to the way the sky clothed the tree's bare branches in winter; stars, clouds, birds, and violet sunsets all acted as temporary "leaves."

After observing our own sky out the window (it was "church-quiet" and "white as rabbits"), I asked them to close their eyes and imagine any sky they liked. It could be a morning sky, a starry sky, or a fiery evening sky. What time of year is it? What time of day? What colors and weather do you see? Is it windy or still? Cloudy or clear? I passed out small pieces of paper ("sky windows") and colored pencils so they could draw the sky they had imagined.

When the drawings were complete, I asked asked them to write a poem describing their sky and the world below. Here are two examples (I might scan the drawings a bit later):

My sky is white summer
in the spicy afternoon. Children
playing on the sand,
children yelling, screaming,
and laughing. My sky turns
gray, lightning, thunder,
and loud.
-Safia

My sky was a little bit dark
and it was raining
and it was the middle
of afternoon. I was so happy
that everyone stayed inside.
It was soft and quiet.
-Asho