We each wrote our own poem entitled, “I Remember” over the span of about fifteen minutes. Because, I believe teachers and students can learn and practice side-by-side, I wrote one and this is what I shared:
I remember the beak of my stuffed animal, Skuttles, soft against my chin.
I remember the dust cloud in the rearview mirror as we drove in a rusty, pick-up on dirt roads.
I remember the cadence of my mom’s voice as she called, “Come and geeeeeeet it!”
I remember the glow of lightning bugs twinkling on and off like birthday candles in the sky at dusk
I remember bare feet in squishy mud and the dry corn husks hitting the sides of my body as we played hide-and-go-seek in the fields.
I remember the pulling back of my hair as my brother created a ponytail in hair tangled from the angry wind and wild playing.
I remember my chocolate lab’s bloody, mangled leg as he ran up the hills, desperate to flee from the truck that struck him.
I remember the tears of my siblings, and the still foreign word, “divorce”.
I remember kicking a blue and white soccer ball against a hard, wooden fence.
I remember the sun setting against a rounded hill, the acoustic sound of buzzing insects, and the stained smiles of youth.
Thirteen Ways of Looking at _______________
Wallace Stevens wrote a poem in 1954 called, “Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird”. Using his poetry as a model, we each wrote our own poem on a topic of our choice. We did not share on what we had chosen to focus. Instead, we all took turns guessing. The topic of my poem is listed at the very end of this post, in case you want to venture a guess…
- The tears, the machine, the ultrasound
- The still animal amid goggles and metal tools
- The empty “I love you”
- The faint whispers of a past in the shadows
- The holding in arms that are as comfortable as one’s own
- The chards of something once whole
- Birds singing, flowers blooming, green leaves budding; the cadence of nature.
- The hand to chest, an anthem in ears
- The beating of musical drums
- The red of lips’ seduction
- An authentic self living in passion, free of judgement and society’s cruel glare
- The holding of hands
Thirteen Ways of Looking at Heart