Richard Henry Lee Elementary School Poetry

Persona, 6th grade

2008-05-06T18:23:00.000-05:00

We read "Jorge the Church Janitor Finally Quits" by Martin Espada, and discussed how Espada spoke in the persona of a janitor who has been dehumanized by his work, and has privately made the decision to quit his job. This poem is written in an accessible voice, but is deceptively simple: it is riddled with sophisticated metaphors and poetic language, which the students had no trouble digging out. We then tried our hand at writing persona poems, focusing on adults with jobs.

Mrs. Hernandez, Rm. 109, 6th grade

Mr. Henry
Vanessa A.

No one ever
talks to me,
ever since I
got a new partner.
I must be invisible
like the cold white walls.
No one knows my name
like they've forgotten all
of a sudden.
My friends are
no longer my friends.
I sometimes wonder
why I chose them.
Could this have been
my passion?
Was this my first choice?

Doctor Josue
Adalberto S.

Every day
saying, "Help me."
Studying, never
finishing school.
Disease spreads
more faster
than you finsih
discovering the
cure.
Being the worst
student in class
not smart, not
cool, just me.

My Day
Daisy A.

I was a substitute and now
I'm a teacher.
It's my first day, I carry books,
eat breakfast, and study my
lesson plans.
Many unknown children enter
screaming and shouting like
a zoo where animals are not
controlled.
I say Stop and Stop and they stop.
I was five when my teacher was my
boss, now I'm 30 and I'm the
boss.

Persona, 7th grade

2008-05-01T18:49:00.000-05:00

Here are the 7th-graders' responses to "Jorge the Church Janitor Finally Quits" by Martin Espada. I was most impressed by the insight and compassion that they felt, and the humor that many of them employed to portray their various...employees. Andy's poem in particular blew my mind...take a look! So internal, so cerebral! They were amazing, and they had a good time with this one.

Mrs Jamen, Rm. 207, 7th grade

the day
he lost
it
Andy M.

Who is he?
Who am I?
Who are we?
All who say
he I we
will wish they
don’t. I lost it
I lost it. My
boss comes
in Get to work
he, I, we, which one
I ask What
do you mean?
I am 3 people
or more I say
I am he I am
I and we are
we. Well that
makes sense he
says nothing makes
sense anymore

Miguel the Street Cleaner
Charles H.

No one knows
the importance
of my job,
I am the best
street cleaner.
I clean the
streets with the greatest of
ease.
Except when your
car is parked on the street.
Some days I just want
to run over those cars
like a monster truck.
Can’t they read the
sign.
Without me the
streets would be
dirty.
Maybe I should
quit and the
streets will clean
themselves and I
will become a monster truck driver.

Roberto the Paletero
Pamela H.

Another day out of church,
waiting for people to come out.
I have all kinds of flavors:
strawberry, lemon,
mango, coconut, yum!
Oh, finally, the people come out!
My first day on the job.
What fun!
Oh, man, what happened, the police
is here.
They come on their bikes towards me.
“Sir, do you have your license?”
“Umm, no sir, I don’t.”
“I’m afraid I have to give you a
ticket for $50.”
Man, they must think I’m some
poor Mexican.
Like a man on the street.

Vet Put to Sleep
Myriam L.

Day after day
people bring in
their big,
small,
noisy,
quiet,
fat,
skinny,
hairy,
bald
animals,
and every day I
whine,
groan,
sneeze,
cough,
cry,
talk, and…
check animals.
And one day…
I got tired of
big,
small,
noisy,
quiet,
fat,
skinny,
hairy,
bald
animals.
So…
one day,
I put my job to sleep.

Mr. Czoski, Rm. 209, 7th grade

They ask me, what
I did wrong.
I write their name.
Alejandra R.

They ask me, but I
don’t respond.
They should know.
They think I’m the master
but they should go with the law.
My name may be wrong
but I will respond
I will stop you
for a crime
for a death
or whatever is against the law.
My life and my family miss
me but I have to go
against the violence
and crime to save them
and you. It’s my first day.
Let’s get
started
now!

Garbage Man
Jacob L.

No one
knows my
name.
I am from
a foreign
land.
I do
what
no one
does:
I collect
your garbage,
give it to
the land
fill.
No one
says
thank you
so,
you’re
welcome.

Burger King
Michelle A.

How I feel!
Wow, cleaning tables,
taking out trash,
taking your order.
Oh, my God, lady, cheeseburger
without cheese? Lady, you crazy.
Wow, Burger King, let’s quit.

Mrs. Harris, Rm. 210, 7th grade

Unknown Name of Nothingness
Dalia C.

No one knows
my name.
They call me Ms. Applebottom.
It’s like if my name has
no meaning.
For one, I am married,
which changes my name to “Mrs.”
I have nothing to do with
apples or bottoms.
Once I enter the teachers’
lounge, I am
in peace,
not minding what the
principal is gossiping about.
Lunch is over and
my room is filled with mad dogs
and lions that are still waiting
for meat to chew upon.
There is an apple on
my paper-filled desk.
Red and shiny.
That is, Ms. Applebottom’s apple.

Colin the Stockboy
?

Nobody cares.
I am just a
stockboy at Target.
I am not even a
boy, I am 32 years old.
I am just the lonely
stockboy who never gets
asked questions.
I miss my country of Canada
and the hockey.
I think there is a hockey
game from my childhood
in each box.
My boss just yells
about the boxes being on
the wrong shelf.
I don’t even think
they know my name.
But who cares,
I know I am smart
but I just don’t apply
myself. I work so hard as a stockboy.
My life is getting
worse because now
I am fired.

Untitled
Christy Z.

Everybody screams it.
You’ll choke on it.
I press the button and I’m done.
Daddy just bought me a brand new
Benz.
I hate you first.
You’ll see me through the magnetized
lens.
You’ll only see what she said.
Don’t bother word on the block matters
most.
The boy I want won’t climb the higher
branches; he’s scared of falling.
The pictures you see were taken by
black and white mouth.
My film ran out.

Mrs. Bourret, Rm. 208, 7th grade

Not Because of the Color of My Skin
Anissa V.

Should I catch it,
or should I not.
I'm black--
that's the color of my skin--
I'm Latino--
that's who I am.
They expect me to.
Why, I ask?
Oh, because I'm black and supposedly
powerful.
I know I can.
I'll catch it because that's how
good I am,
not because of the color of
my skin.
Out!

Marilyn the Mom with Many Careers
Melissa C.

No one asks me if I'm doing good.
They ask for favors I should do.
No "I love you," just "Mom I
need your help."
I'm a banker who gives out
free money almost each day.
I'm a doctor who doesn't even
have a diagnosis.
I want to fix this mess!
I'm a taxi driver always
going here and there.
The house's darkness is
taking over my body taking
me away to the underworld.

"I Remember", collaboration, 6th grade

2008-05-01T18:30:00.000-05:00

I've been wanting to have the kids work collaboratively for a while, but after working individually for so long, I wasn't sure how they would respond. They rose to the challenge admirably. I gave them a time limit and their "I Remember" litanies from before, and they turned out beautiful work.

Mrs. Hernandez, Rm. 109, 6th grade

Our Rememberings
Daisy, Vanessa, Alex, Joey

I remember when the snow
came and it was so icy
cold.
I remember when I started
school.
I remember that I got in
a fight in school.
I remember when I got in
trouble.
I remember my best test
grade.
I remember when I got
out of school.
I remember when I fell
and broke my tooth.
I remember when the waves
were so strong and scary.
I just Remember.

I Remember
Miguel G., Chris R., Miguel A., Cesar L.

I remember my friend when I was one year old.

I remember a dancing monkey in my car.

I remember the drunken fans.

I remember when I was short.

I remember eating 14 sugar cookies in a row.

I remember my weird teacher.

I remember the train ride.

I remember when my parents would
argue while I played with my car.

I remember falling off a horse.

Remembering
Christian H., Miguel C., Andres F.

I remember running around naked
when I was a baby.

I remember getting punished for
running naked.

I remember changing the dirty
diaper.

I remember eating Gerber.

I remember crying, screaming, yelling,
and kicking.

I remember getting ready for my first
day of school.

I remember pulling hair.

I remember when I met Mickey Mouse.

I remember my first detention.

I remember the first few friends
I made.

I remember the first time I burped.

I remember the first time I was scared.

I remember we finished our poem.

I Remember
Paola, Monse, Jailene, Jocelyn, Lizzet

I remember when
my mind was
sent free
creativity flowing
around my find
listening to me
not to someone else
creating something
new no one else could
think of
finding me
self surrounded
by ideas
looking at
them thinking
them twice
I remember
my mind never
getting locked

I remember

I remember when
my mind was sent
free
I remember a hand
popping out of a bird
I remember looking
at a lonely girl
sitting by herself
I remember my
soul being taken
away
I remember my
dreams falling down
I remember my
dreams coming back

"I Remember:" Litany, 6th grade

2008-04-17T18:34:00.000-05:00

The writer Joe Brainard created a book-length poem of lines that all start with the phrase "I remember." We read a selection and talked about his use of concrete image and how it conveyed the particular time he grew up in. I asked them to try their own "I remember" poems, writing in a free style, starting each new line with "I remember," and writing without stopping during the time set.

Mrs. Hernandez, Rm. 109, 6th grade

Remember
?

I remember my
Grandpa's voice
and his face,
telling the story of
God, laying there
day by day smiling
and saying hi to
my friends who
come and play.
I wish to see
him again one
more time, hear
his voice and face.
I wish

I Remember
Chris R.

I remember when I started to see dead people.
I remember when my brother got killed.
I remember a house with lights.
I remember a dancing monkey on my car.
I remember a talking book telling me what to do.
I remember getting Fs on my report card.
I remember my teacher talking about aliens.
I remember when my friend broke my back window.
I remember when I saw an elephant driving a motorcycle.
I remember when I got in trouble.
I remember some boy getting kicked in the face by a horse.

I Remember
Yaneliz R.

I remember dancing while people watched me.
I remember walking and a truck hitting me on my side.
I remember running because I was playing ding dong ditch.
I remember two bulldogs in back of me and I was on my bike crashing into a tree.
I remember running around the park with my uncle.
I remember moving into a new house.
I remember coming to my new school and not knowing anyone.
I remember walking to my house and being scared.

"I Remember..." - 7th Grade

2008-04-08T14:52:00.001-05:00

We read an excerpt of Joe Brainard's book-length poem, "I Remenber," and interpreted and discussed the memories a bit. We then played a free-association word game, and wrote our own "I Remember" pieces.

###

Mrs. Jamen, Rm. 207, 7th grade

I remember
Andy M.

I remember the taxi falling in the sewer.
I remember monkeys throwing poo.
I remember falling on my head.
I remember hitting the wasps’ nest and running.
I remember a canal of strong water.
I remember the pirated pirates.
I remember oil rigs in Texas.
I remember seeing a crow.
I remember seeing everything.
I remember flying.
I remember being out as late as you can.
I remember endless railroad tracks.
I remember oranges on my head.
I remember clowns dressed as political figures.
I remember Bush being a good President.
I remember the black clouds.
I remember going down a slide.
I remember jumping off stairs.
I remember the girl who fell out the window and died.
I remember all.
I remember hiding in my basement.
I remember carne asada con tocino.
I remember burning my tongue.
I remember masked wrestlers.
I remember the seven deadly sins.
I remember seeing a flash and everything going dark.
I remember lighting a firework through a guy’s window.
I remember going in the pool and coming out on a kids’ toy thing.
I remember circular spirals.
I remember Kunai.
I remember the iphone.
I remember Mad TV.
I remember shopping carts.

I remember
Myriam L.

I remember when I took swimming classes, thinking I would drown.
I remember when my friend ate cardboard.
I remember me and my cousin playing with bugs in Mexico.
I remember when all 12 goldfish committed suicide (no lid).
I remember when I sprayed my sister with steaming hot water.
I remember Max.
I remember my parents arguing.
I remember when my baby monkey (brother) was born.
I remember one day there was a really bad storm, but right after it smelled wonderful.
I remember pushing my sister into the rose bush.
I remember meeting my best friend.
I remember riding with my dad in his new red beauty. My hair rushing in the wind.
I remember getting my hair permed; it was horrible, and cold.
I remember strumming my guitar for the first time.

I remember
Jesus T.

I remember the park I used to go to when I was little.
I remember when my mom got mad because I jumped on the bed with muddy shoes.
I remember when my dad was washing the car and then I bee stung me.
I remember my shoes that played a song and then made me cry.
I remember when If first got beat up in school.
I remember the first time that my mom farted.
I remember the first time I ate ravioli with bread.
I remember when I got two bags full of candy on Halloween.
I remember the first time I had a fight with my friends.
I remember when I first came to this school.

Mr. Czoski, Rm. 209, 7th grade

I remember
Michael S.

I remember the time I first used a computer.
I remember the first time I got a necklace.
I remember the time I started it right.
I remember the first time I wrote a journal.
I remember the first time I wrote a paragraph.
I remember when I had my first girl.
I remember the first time I got into a fight.
I remember that one time I was laughing so hard my face turned red.
I remember the time we worked on the 5 kingdoms.
I remember the first time I got a bracelet.
I remember the time I got in big trouble by the school.
I remember the first time I got my first game system.

I remember
Lilbeth U.

I remember my dad leaving.
I remember my sister being born.
I remember crying myself to sleep.
I remember the pain that my mom went through.
I remember being lost.
I remember candy.
I remember my best friend.
I remember the first place they took me when I was born.
I remember going to 4th grade.
I remember being afraid of clowns.
I remember all the pain I went through.
I remember seeing my brother wake up at night crying over my dad.
I remember how bad people used to treat me.
I remember crying in my room over the things that bullies used to tell me.
I remember the first time my dad gave me a kiss.
I remember the first time my dad cried.
I remember seeing them argue!
I remember trying to forget everything that was going on.
I remember holding my li’l sister.
I remember crying over my grandparents not liking me.
I remember being loved for the first time.
I remember being born.
I remember falling from the tree.
I remember missing my friends.
I remember looking at the full moon.
I remember taking care of my li’l sister for the first time.
I remember trying to hide my feelings with a smile.

I remember
Marco M.

I remember falling, and getting a scar.
I remember being in an airport.
I remember feeling the Force was not with me.
I remember losing my PSP.
I remember how I could never play soccer.
I remember falling and getting up again.
I remember to be the man, you have to beat the man.
I remember being in a car with an alcoholic driving.
I remember wasting my money on nothing.
I remember emergency rooms and my parents crying.
I remember feeling as if it died because of me.
I remember getting Linkin Park tickets.
I remember thinking if money is everything.
I remember when I was little.
I remember the first time I walked in the school.
I remember trying, but not trying harder.
I remember being alone at night, scared.
I remember them thinking I was in a gang.
I remember walking with fear.
I remember feeling stupid.
I remember feeling hate.
I remember hearing my favorite song.
I remember hearing it and being so calm.
I remember not wanting to go away.
I remember how fast life is.
I remember remembering.

Mrs. Harris, Rm. 210, 7th grade

I remember
Daniela M.

I remember strawberries.
I remember eating my best friend’s cake.
I remember when the clouds were blocking the sun so I couldn’t wake up in the morning.
I remember coughing on my pillow.
I remember my basement covered with bubbles.
I remember listening to music while I was doing my homework.
I remember sitting on the roof eating hotchips.
I remember playing cards when it was cold.
I remember watching a movie when it was raining.
I remember getting yelled at by Mrs. Harris to put my legs in.
I remember drinking Sunny D while watching people dance.
I remember falling in front of hector—we laughed for hours.
I remember my mom telling me that my real dad doesn’t want me.
I remember laughing so hard my knees became weak.
I remember having a party in the alley.
I remember talking to my mom about her day.
I remember my dad yelling at my older sister to do her chores.
I remember crying on my birthday because my brother’s blood went on my white flower dress.
I remember drowning in the pool when I was young.
I remember making cake with my little brother.
I remember me crying because my brother left.

I remember
Jose A.

I remember it was winter and I woke up at 7 a.m. and went outside and pretended to smoke.
I remember I was 8 and I was riding my bike then fell but laughed.
I remember getting lost at K-Mart.
I remember I was watching a scary movie and never got to see the beginning.
I remember being little playing soccer in my backyard everyday rain or shine.
I remember breaking my back window and blaming it on my sister.
I remember playing wrestling at home and nearly falling off the bed.
I remember sliding off a slide for the first time.
I remember swinging on a swing for the first time.
I remember going to my first soccer game watching my favorite players from my favorite team.
I remember watching the news on 9/11 when I was young. I was at my aunt’s house in my cousin’s room.
I remember watching my favorite cartoons and recording them and watching them over and over.
I remember the first time my mom put something on the fridge. It was my drawing of me from preschool.

I remember
Dalia C.

I remember sitting on a counselor’s chair without asking.
I remember eating my sister’s big cookie and throwing up at night.
I remember calling my dad two years later and him not picking up.
I remember how my 12th birthday was a disaster.
I remember the day I moved to Chicago. I knew no one.
I remember the first day that I had a MySpace account.
I remember when my best friend Chris finally called me again after so long.
I remember when I first saw my mom cry. She was being deported, but is now a resident.
I remember writing the first line of my “I remember” poem.
I remember when my mom found out. She doesn’t trust me anymore.
I remember when I kept getting detentions for not attending my previous ones.
I remember when my older sister came out of the closet. I didn’t care at all.
I remember when my step dad wanted to kick me and Jasmine out of the house at midnight. It was pouring rain.
I remember the last time I saw my father.

Mrs. Bourret, Rm. 208, 7th grade

I remember
Rafael S.

I remember a cat looking for food.
I remember my grandpa when he went to Mexico.
I remember my dad when he went to New York.
I remember my dog when he ran away.
Remember my sister.
I remember my mother when she was in the hospital.
I remember my brother when he was in the hospital.
I remember my teacher.
I remember my dog.

I remember
Virginia A.

I remember the day in school.
I remember my 13th birthday.
I remember my mom in the pool swimming.
I remember my head in the sun.
I remember I fell asleep in my house.
I remember a flag going to the sky.
I remember the first time I left my father.
I remember the green tree.

I remember
Chris S.

I remember the first time I saw my dad.
I remember the first day of Easter.
I remember the first day of my favorite life.
I remember when I moved to the South Side.
I remember when I made friends.
I remember the first time I came to Lee School.
I remember when I first saw a movie.
I remember the first time I got a new bike.
I remember my aunt had her first pool party.
I remember the first birthday of mine.
I remember my first hockey practice.
I remember my first basketball game.
I remember my first time I saw a basketball.
I remember I saw a basketball game.
I remember my first trip to Orlando, or Magic Kingdom.
I remember my second trip to Puerto Rico.
I remember the first time I made friends with Mrs. Bourret and my teachers.

My Words, 6th grade

2008-04-03T18:39:00.000-05:00

In "My Poems" by Nita Penfold, the speaker describes her poems as mischievous women who tell her secrets, who are "not polite ladies." She says, "I like their red-rough hands." This poem provides ready lessons in metaphor, personification, and image, plus it's short! And by this point, I knew that many of the students had begun to identify as poets and nearly all had a large enough body of work that they could speak with some confidence about what their poems are like. Penfold's poem also "wraps" the title into the poem--uses the title as the first line--and I asked them to try that, while writing a piece about what their poems are like (or their words, as an alternative). Their responses were extraordinarily playful; they owned this one.

Mrs. Hernandez, Rm. 109, 6th grade

My Poems
Daisy A.

Heart
My poems touch my heart
with phrases and words
and when the politeness occurs
and the mood and the tone
so much to say but too little
to speak.

My poem says
classmates are cool
who talk and talk
but not too much. Some
who play sports
and some who
draw. They help others
that's why they're so cool.

My poems say
Vanessa is nice
She makes me giggle
and laugh.
When I need help
she helps me. Ooh
Vanessa what would
we do without you.

My Poems
Paola Monse A.

People say to me, "Que pasa contigo"
with happy mouths
I hate it when people tell me that
will still be sad
sad moods on my computer
keep a secret to myself
have to run away from the darkness
go to the light
you always say no to everything I say
but you'll always be in my head to stay

My Poems
Lizzet B.

are like clouds that fade away
they run free
and help me understand.
I forget and they remember.
They are calm and peaceful
but can be mean.
They are mine and only mine.

My Words
Adalberto S.

come to me like a fierce
tordado blowing with
no meaning for life
Will destroy anything
in mind to be concentrated.
They just blow up
burdting out my secret
without reason
So please tornado control
my mind

My Poems
Jacqueline S.

They are like the
clouds going away,
and coming back.
When they come they
go, when they go they
come. Clouds, clouds,
please come back and
stay, you make me
laugh out loud.
Please please come back!

My Poems
Vanessa A.

come to me with a twist
with loud meaning
they are all over my paper
will be silly all around
they run through my paper
like little kids
I like how they sound
they make me so happy
I want to cry
they way they take
words right out of your mouth
can't stop crying
until the night when they are fast asleep

"My Poems" - 7th Grade

2008-04-03T14:42:00.001-05:00

After reading Nita Penfold's "My Poem,"--in which she describes her poems as "not polite ladies," who "won't sit still"--we discussed Penfold's method of describing her poems as people with their own will. We also talked about her use of the title as also the first line of the poem. I then asked them to write their own poems, "My Poems," or alternately, "My Words" (which could extend into other areas of language). These entertaining poems resulted; I felt like they were integrating a lot of the various imagery and tools we've experimented with this year.

Mrs. Jamen, Rm. 207, 7th grade

Mi poema
Daniela G.

Yo platico contigo,
por medio de mi poema,
por medio de el yo digo
lo que pienso, y siento,
porque un poema
es más que simples
palabras escritas sobre
una hoja de papel,
es la puerta
por la que salen
todas tus palabras, todos
tus sentimientos
un poema es como
tu alma, como tu corazón
y lo abres a todas
aquellas personas
que lo quieren ver,
y tus sentimientos
quieren saber.

My Poems
Paola S.

come to other people hard
bringing out “her,”
envious, competitive, calm
emotions that want to unravel
and I can’t control,
they want to come out
and let the world know
but I won’t let “her,”
trying to look flawless,
so she unravels herself
in the lines of paper,
while I crumbple it up
throw it in the garbage,
butr soon she’ll come back
and won’t rest
until she lets my soul free.

My Words
Sergio S.

come to me from vast, fast-thinking
mind. Like wild berries they
have to be carefully picked out.
They come with great forces
almost like a tsunami.
They move at the speed
of sound, from my mind to
my mouth
like a tornado when they
are released, they can’t be
stopped.
They won’t stop until
I’m gone.
Like assassins they can
kill…

Mr. Czoski, Rm. 209, 7th grade

My Poems
Louis B.

hold me down
their hands clench my legs
they go to stores here and there
will they stop?
when they’re 50?
when, when, when!!
they won’t let me free
I struggle and struggle
let me freeee!!
I’m screaming at the top of my lungs
they’re making me crazy

My Poems
Jesus J.

They’re mean sometimes about hatred
my soul will tell you anything
I need it out of me
because it’s mean
get away from
me I need
to write
it out
they
won’t let
me sleep ’til
I write it out
help me somebody
help my soul won’t
let me sleep finally
it’s out of me now I can
go to sleep and have a
good day in school tomorrow
’til the next time I’m mean and
hate I now know to let them out

My Poems
Mario M.

come faster to me than a train
I’m not looking for fame
trying to get myself a name
my poems aren’t the same
what am I trying to aim
trying to light my flame

Mrs. Harris, Rm. 210, 7th grade

My Words
Christy Z.

slip like water through a roofless
roof.
Break a bone or seven, they’re
hot as ice.
Why don’t you ever sew it shut?
Always getting lost, having trouble
finding their way back.
Wanting to know what he thinks,
zip! zaaap!
Burning through water, don’t
give me the chance.
Here to take your hopes,
sweet as sugar, huh?
Torn apart and torn against.
Waiting until I’m deaf, blind, and
numb.

My poems
Alexis R.

are worthless like a monster
in a tree. My poems are wordless slike
a star in the sea. My words are
shattered like a bomb. My words were
scattered far away too long. My poems
are ridiculous like a cat who ate too
much and that is that. My words
fly in the air like a bird.
My poems cry all the way to third.
My words ran that awful race and now
it may be late. My poems are sick,
they need a doctor, they’ll never make
it to somber.

My Words
Elizabeth M.

sometimes don’t mean anything at all.
All people use words,
just not the way I do.
Huh, I feel like the greenest
person in this class.
Nobody understands me.
Well, one person does.
My words get taken the
wrong way most of the time
just like when an itty-bitty
seed was taken in the
wrong direction by the wind
Jeez, I wish it was still summer.
Everyone loved me.

My words,
are they useless to you?

My Poems
Joshua R.

They stare at me
They laugh at me
but they cry for me
They bite me, chew me, and spit me out
but they will always be there for me

Poetry, My Words
Anissa V.

My Words
mean nothing,
trying and hoping for the day
they’ll be heard,
sometimes mean and horrible,
or sweet and thoughtful.
I searched everywhere
for someone to promise me
they’ll listen,
don’t like ugly words,
it’s not on purpose.
Sometimes something else puts words in my
mouth,
I’m sorry for that.
My words aren’t perfect,
but maybe they will be if
someone actually heard them.
They might be.

My Words…
Mayra S.

are like ocean waves
with peaceful sounds
come with laughing people
are free ’til the sunsets
become birds chirping tin the sunrise
are listened
can feel what I feel
gentle as a puppy
see what I see
know what I know

My Heart--7th grade

2008-03-27T18:53:00.002-05:00

This sizable posting contains poems inspired by "Little Clown, My Heart" by Sandra Cisneros.

###

Changing Stone
Andy M.

Sometimes my heart’s as smooth
as a stone with a waterfall
running aside it, accepting,
calm and peaceful. Sometimes it’s a
jagged rock at the edge
of a cliff, can’t hold anything,
angry, alone, and depressed, unaccepting.

Untitled
Daniel S.

Happy and sorrow
are in my heart.

These are the emotions
that can never drift
apart.

Not even death, hate,
nor anger can hurt the
emotions.

My Heart
Pamela H.

Blue sky, my heart,
beautiful as can be.
Birds gazing through it,
and clouds flowing too.
It’s happy but sometimes
raining, blue sky, my
heart will always be.

Mariposa de colores, mi corazón
Daniela G.

Mariposa de colores, mi corazón,
la es y la será siempre,
ella está conmigo,
siempre la está,
ella es mi amiga
la que me ayuda
y ríe siempre junto a mí.

Ella puede volar
y yo junto a ella
aunque no tengo alas,
pero en mi mente y corazón
sí las ahí.

Mariposa de colores alegres
que ilumina todo mi ser,
y todo mi corazón,
sin ella yo no puedo vivir
porque ella toda mi vida es.

Plastic Tree, My Heart
Sergio S.

Plastic tree, my heart,
doesn’t know if it’s real or fake.
Like a ghost it poses me to
do things I don’t want to.
My plastic tree of a heart
prevents me from real emotions.

Fake smile, my heart.
Just like a fake smile my heart
deceives people.
My fake smile is not to be
trusted.
My plastic tree heart
has no real emotions.

My Heart
Erik V.

My heart beats again and
again when I’m lost in a
stranded place, no water, no
food, except the cold breeze.

Untitled
Braulio R.

My heart, so full of hatred,
burns hot like there’s no tomorrow.
So full of rage
it might just explode.

It’s inside me, my heart
Jesus T.

Whenever I’m nervous or
lie my heart pulses
faster and faster.

Whenever I speak
in front of a class I
get nervous and I
feel my heart wants
to get out.

I love my heart.
It keeps me alive
and sometimes tired.
I love my heart.

My Heart Broken
Kimberly U.

You knew that
my heart wasn’t
in stores.
There are some traps
that life always
has. Why did you take
my heart? You are
not the right person
for me. You didn’t know
how to love me.
And you missed your
chance. Now I
have to keep moving.
Life keeps on
and I am not letting a
boy hurt me again,
now the only
two words I
am saying: Good
bye!

My Heart
Myriam L.

Hopeless apparatus, my heart,
different confusing feelings,
twisted and turned inside.

I suspect it is easily broken,
but of course, I wouldn’t know,
my heart hasn’t belonged to anyone before.

I wish I could feel,
but my heart is empty,
filled with air and webs.

My Heart
Ever B.

My heart, why all that
suffering? Why did my
uncle have to die?

Emotions
Paola S.

Paper, my heart,
easy to rip,
smooth and nice,
but be careful:
it cuts too.

Hard as a rock,
doesn’t let no one get through,
always being stomped on,
it hurts too,
hardly ever picked up.

Gentle as a puppy
crying out for help,
like an actor
sometimes acting,
scared,
like a little kid about roller coasters,
scared,
for love and trust.

###

Mr. Czoski, Rm. 209, 7th grade

Awesome Soccer, My Heart
Edgar

Awesome soccer, my heart
I live for soccer
I breathe soccer
I sleep soccer
I eat soccer
I bleed soccer
I dream soccer
Without soccer my world wouldn’t be the same
If I don’t play my hardest I am ashamed
I want to be in the hall of fame
It could happen if you let me play my game
It’s like a drug to me
I’m addicted to it
I’m in it to win it

My Heart
Shawn P.

Dark and empty, that’s what
my heart is, that’s what it’ll
always be. That’s just what
people can’t seem to see about
me. They say I’m mean, they
say I show no compassion
for anything, they all say the
same thing, but they just don’t
know me, the real me, but sometimes
I don’t know the real me.
I can’t believe, I couldn’t see
what was happening to me.

Flipping Jelly Bean, My Heart
?

The flipping jelly bean, my heart.
It bounces and hops, hop,
hop, hop, so confused, don’t know
what to do.

Turning doing flips then
stops, the sign of death—no—
it’s the sign of being heart-
broken sitting not moving
at all.

The flipping jelly bean starts hopping
again so high it feels like
it could fly, it must be
love.

No one will ever understand
why the flipping jelly bean
does these things, like I will
never understand why my
heart feels like this.

Blue Notebook, My Heart
Alejandra R.

Blue notebook, my heart
coming to me with a key.
Holding to me and saying, “Write
to me.

It sees me crying day
through night. Telling me,
“Let go of it and write.”
It’s a diary, it
tells me, “Write in me.”

###

Mrs. Harris, Rm. 210, 7th grade

heavy backpack, my heart
Dalia C.

Heavy backpack, my heart,
carried around with so much work.
Taken advantage and thrown on the dirt.
Torn on the inside and out,
no one can hear it shout.

Heavy sorrows and no help,
always thinking the same thought:
How can I make it all stop?
It cannot move or walk,
but to itself, it talks.

lala
Daniela M.

Smal little girl, my heart
Cheery, happy, torn
Stands tall, doesn’t look down
Her arms open waiting for…
Someone

No one bothers, she’s left alone
Her dignity is gone
Her addiction is him
The sweet apple rots

The hills are too high
The sun is shining bright
She gives up on life
In front of her eyes
everything dies

Maze
Esmeralda G.

Maze, my heart.
Needles…dark my heart
Rainbow, candy, my heart…
Berlin…fire, my heart
Red fruit punch…my heart…

White-’n-blue stars
Cancun waves…mí
corazón…

Paper, plastic, pencil…
Bratz, Barbie dolls…
My red and pink heart!

Sitting down holding
hands in front of the
screen…
My bloody heart!

Untitled
Angelica U.

Little girl, my heart
turned around and upside-down
beautiful butterflies in my stomach
turning and spinning
out of control

Light feather, my arms
spinning out of space
bears growling inside of my heart
but nothing comes out but a whisper

Loud music in my ears
but nothing is seen
just heard with sense
peace and quiet is what I’ve become

###

Mrs. Bourret, Rm. 208, 7th grade

Crystal-Shining Star, My Heart
Karina A.

Playing games with me, wherever I go,
calling my name and telling me to go for it,
but I say, “No, this is not me.”
My heart pounding, every time I need to
breathe.

Little Boy
Gerardo I.

Little boy, my heart, I
miss you and I want
you back. I need you,
little boy. I miss you
so much. Will you come
back?

Fearless Moon, My Heart
Mayra S.

Fearless moon, my heart
I’m here, I’m there, I’m everywhere
spicy like hot sauce
feeling better than ever

I feel like the moon shining all day
swaying with the ocean
monkey jumping around

laughing like an elephant
dreaming a dream no one understands

Big Volcano, My Heart
Jonathan N.

Big volcano, my heart,
hot and almost about to erupt,
people running and screaming
rocks shooting out like
baseballs traveling at 70 mph.

Soon I will erupt into anger,
I’m trying to keep cool,
It’s like a countdown from 5
all the way to 1,
I’m trying to keep cool.

The lava is running down the side of the mountain
like tears coming from a face,
I can’t hold it,
I’m going to explode,
I’m trying to keep cool.

I Hear
Eric W.

I hear I hear something pounding inside
of me it’s pounding like a basketball
hitting the floor I’m holding my
chest it’s pounding it’s pounding I can’t see
my breath in this cold weather
I’m falling to the ground I’m blind
I can’t hear I can’t see what’s
wrong with me it’s my heart
it’s pounding

Tiny Star, My Heart
Ariel C.

Tiny star, my heart,
pounding again so hard.
It’s like frozen stars
standing so lonely.

My Heart - 6th

2008-03-26T14:49:00.000-05:00

Sandra Cisneros' "Little Clown, My Heart" was the inspiration for this batch of poems.

Mrs. Hernandez, Rm. 109, 6th grade

Funny Monkey
Jocelyn R.

Funny monkey, my heart,
cute and furry with lipstick on.
Juggles and tells jokes at the
same time.
He hops he runs but most of all
he just walks.

Little Hands, a Mom’s Heart
Destiny M.

Little hands, as they meet
She hugs her little one
and plays with her feet
She giggles, she laughs
Little hands, little hearts

Music
Yaneliz R.

loud music, my heart
spinning and dancing
falling and practice
and making a mess

Little Monster, My Heart
Vanessa A.

Little monster, my heart,
hiding in closets and under the beds,
scaring away little kids,
wants to play but everyone’s afraid, like
a tornado just hit the earth.

Little hairy feet walking
into a dark room.
He’s so scared and no one’s there,
happiness is gone,
all there is is emptiness.

My Heart
Daisy A.

loud fireworks, my heart,
with the boom and the pump.
With the happiness outside and inside
filling and willing to do what I want.
Little heart little heart as you
hear the loud fireworks I sigh.
Hurry, hurry heart, fill me with
love like fireworks fill the sky.

My Lonely Heart
Daisy A.

Lonely me, my heart.
I sleep while you are trying to talk.
I wake up, you’re asleep, I try
to talk to you but you don’t
hear. We both can’t talk, you
take care of me, I take care
of you. At least we’re together.

"My Heart" - 8th Grade

2008-02-19T15:00:00.000-06:00

"Little Clown, My Heart" by Sandra Cisneros was the inspiration for the following poems. We first began, however, by brainstorming words that we associate with the heart. Many common associations came up: love, red, family, blood, etc. I then sprang a twist on them: they had to write a poem "(adjective noun), my heart..." but were not allowed to use the words we had brainstormed on the board. Oh, the groans! But fascinating and inventive poems resulted.

###

Mr. Stalla, Rm. 201, 8th grade

The Story Inside
Monica C.

My heart, predictable,
is a hurtful book,
it cares not who opens it,
but who looks through it.

The fool in my mind
takes leaps from far too high.
The risks there are
don’t matter.

Small and fragile like a baby,
hidden underneath the warm blanket,
not knowing the truths from the outside,
but knowing enough.

Daring Corazón
Carina A.

My heart,
filled with emotions,
searching,
solving.
My daring, loving corazón,
playing laughing,
place of heartaches,
my heart
one in a million,
happy, laughing
me.

Emotion Machine
Kevin C.

emotion machine emotion machine
beating like a drum
not knowing hwat would happen next.

emotion machine emotion machine
gets bigger and bigger when I laugh
tickles my insides, then I smile.

emotion machine, emotion machine
sinking, sinking when sad.

Something
Ismael A.

my heart is strong and sometimes brave
a heart is red and is full of life
and scared and fronted some things
goes faster and faster

comes many sizes big or small
it is sealed on a protected shield

Tough
Raul G.

Fighter, my heart
never stays down
through the ups and downs
on a rollercoaster ride
always gets up.

It is an icebox
melted by her smile
never to be frozen again
never to be forgotten.

A believer of what’s true
a dreamer of what’s next
and a wisher of what hasn’t happened.
Even after death, it will never die.

My Heart, My Eyes
Jacqueline L.

My heart, it is my eyes,
they observe all that is around me,
they take me and I follow,
never can they be deceived or fooled.

Showing me all that I can’t,
they need no glasses,
they can’t see the sorrow.

My heart, it is my eyes,
so sharp and pointy,
it is my most prized possession,
I am so addicted,
they are needed,
’til the day that they go blind.

Ms. Catinella, Rm. 202, 8th grade

Wandering Heart
Oscar V.

My heart is lost on an open road
Straightening and curving
Stopping and going like
A passenger bus on a city street

Shining stars on a black sky
Twinkling and burning a magic glow

Music, My Heart
Joe F.

music, my heart
fills me with emotions
which I can’t control
fills me with joy
and new meanings

My Heart, Moving like a Maniac
Alberto M.

Vibrating, my heart
sounds like a phone on vibrate
watching a scary movie in theaters
playing a sport for a long time
moving up and down like
a person on a trampoline.

Storm
Alejandra S.

My heart is in the middle of a storm,
Is like it has longs that fill with water,
Pushing it to my eyes like a salty ocean,
Turning black-red like it’s bruised with
blood.

Cut in half like meat,
So dark, so lonely, so sad,
Hot water inside me burning me so much.
God help.

The Unique Heart
Maria L.

The unique heart
dives in the pond of fishes
inside a lonely forest.
It opens up like a rose in its
early days.

Pinches when it’s touched
but cries like a child for a toy.

My Heart like a Warrior
Eric C.

My heart like a warrior
staggering and limping
like a soldier coming
back from war
and looking forward to
that big home meal.
It doesn’t know when
to give up on it
and it’s hoping for that big
home meal from her.

What is My Heart?
Francisco M.

A pond full of cranberry
juice. A bag full of
roses. A home made out
of red bricks.

Mr. Balcazar, Rm. 203, 8th grade

Rainbow Fairy, My Heart
Rosalina A.

Rainbow fairy, my heart,
dancing around and making wishes
come true,
like a little kid never wanting
to grow up,
pink, purple, yellow, red, colorful like a clown,
loves to say “DUDE” like a surfer dude,
the center of attention.

Tip-toed like a dancer,
soars in the sky like a bird,
funky and fabulous,
full of joy and wonder,
the queen inside of me.

The Heart
Leonardo M.

The heart is the organ that we need,
hear it clearly, it’s the sound of the beat.
It’s red, it’s like heat,
without organs like this it’s the least,
with no heart there’s no love.

My Heart Is
Andrea S.

My heart is
a little box of emotion,
full of life and happiness,
jumping up and down and side to side,
a beautiful thing that makes me survive.

My heart is an afternoon at the beach,
sunset sand and water,
a rich chocolate full of caramel,
strong and hard.

My heart is

a rich red liquid
dripping from inside,
a fire getting stronger
and stronger,
it’s my life.

The Villanelle a la 8th grade

2008-02-05T23:26:00.003-06:00

Here are some more villanelles, and villanelles-in-progress, this time from the 8th graders.

I shared a second handout with them that included a villanelle by David Trinidad ("Chatty Cathy Villanelle"), and one I wrote called "Ways and Means." I wanted them to see as many examples as possible of different ways to approach this form, and different expressions that it can take.

Some of the students didn't finish all the way, but I had to admit to them that it took me longer than two 40-minute sessions to write my own villanelle. It's a difficult form, but many students gave a strong go. I included the following poems either because they showed some mastery of the villanelle form, or because they did something inventive and interesting with what they were given, such as the fragments I've included that are so compelling to read that I want the students to finish them, if only so I can read the end! I was also excited to see how students incorporated new vocabulary that they picked up from the rhyming dictionaries.

###

Mr. Stalla, Rm. 201, 8th grade

Stay Up
Raul G.

Don’t let them keep you down.
Don’t give in to the struggle.
Watch them or they’ll let you down.

Let no one take your crown.
Keep them down, ’til their blood makes a puddle.
Don’t let them keep you down.

These are all your people; your town
loyal to you, oh so humble.
Watch them or they’ll let you down.

Without a care they make you frown.
I see potential, yet they all stumble.
Don’t let them keep you down.

I see talent that can astound
but under pressure, dreams crumble.
Watch them or they’ll let you down.

You hear the roaring of the crowd.
Wipe the blood off your knuckle.
Don’t let them keep you down.
Watch them or they’ll let you down.

Villanelle
Jessica G.

When you grow up, what will you be?
If you work hard, you could succeed.
Please do something that you will achieve.

Maybe an astronaut if you believe,
so go on and proceed.
When you grow up, what will you be?

So keep looking and you will receive.
So go out and look and do your deed.
Please do something that you will achieve.

Go out and retrieve.
Don’t worry, you won’t bleed.
When you grow up, what will you be?

Please do something that you will achieve.

Villanelle
Jacky L.

In a dream I see many things,
a big purple crocodile.
I lay my head on a pillow in the evenings.

I love the joy it brings,
an orange monkey with a smile.
In a dream I see many things.

Waking up would be death-defying.
I see a squirrel that’s very hostile.
I lay my head on a pillow in the evenings.

I watch a green lady cross the Nile.
In a dream I see many things.

An old man who’s very old-style.
I lay my head on a pillow in the evenings.

A cool-looking hippo by the name of Kyle.
In a dream I see many things.
I lay my head on a pillow in the evenings.

###

Ms. Catinella, Rm. 202, 8th grade

Arms Race
Samantha N.

All they hear is the bass.
They’re dressed to kill
because this is just the arms race.

These kids are the change of pace.
They’re not going to stand still.
All they hear is the bass.

They listen to the best, and say, “Rad, dollface.”
Their headphones are loud, and they thrill
because this is just the arms race.

They don’t care about the political race.
You won’t do it, but these kids will.
All they hear is the bass.

They’ll confront each other face to face.
These kids know how to chill
because this is just the arms race.

They’re not going to keep a straight face.
These just won’t be still.
All they hear is the bass
because this is just the arms race.

Villanelle
Alberto M.

Winter go away; you cause us misery and sadness.
Snow is powerful when they unite.
Trapped by snow, nowhere to go, it’s loneliness.

Kids throwing snowballs at cars.
Some people are afraid during a snowing night.
Winter go away, you cause us misery and sadness.

Men staying at bars.
Kids throwing snowballs with all their might.
Trapped by snow, nowhere to go, it’s loneliness.

The sky filled with stars,
kids inside of their homes drinking Sprite.
Winter go away, you cause us misery and sadness.

Traveling to countries is far.
Kids outside using their flashlight.
Trapped by snow, nowhere to go, it’s loneliness.

Others playing the guitar.
Miles of snow seen only by eyesight.
Winter go away, you cause us misery and sadness
trapped by snow, nowhere to go, it’s loneliness.

Life?!
Alejandra S.

I fill my lungs of air and shout!
The sun shining on my eyes.
I can see half of the world from here.

Ocean is when the world starts turning blue,
while inside a room a boy dies.
I fill my lungs of air and shout!

Does anyone have a clue?
Looking at all the flies
I feel a big cheer.

Feel like everything’s true.
Air lets the clothes dry,
I fill my lungs of air and shout!

All the people really grew
where a little rabbit lies.
Talk to animals, they can hear

even though they only chew
like winning a big prize.
I fill my lungs of air and shout!
I can see half of the world from here.

Some with Need
Angela B.

Someone needing help through rough times to help fight,
struggling, and putting the effort all in.
Keep trying, keep trying, don’t give up, try your hardest, even through the night.

Their life is erupting like dynamite
never knowing what to do, always clandestine.
Someone needing help through rough times to help fight.

Always trying to do everything right
hoping that no one will break in.
Keep trying, keep trying, don’t give up, try your hardest, even through the night.

Not being in the spotlight,
not wanting to live in sin.
Someone needing help through rough times to help fight.

Fighting through life like a dogfight,
wanting someone there through thick and thin.
Keep trying, keep trying, don’t give up, try your hardest, even through the night.

Waiting for life to ignite.
When something happens, saying, “Take it on the chin.”
Someone needing help through rough times to help fight.
Keep trying, keep trying, don’t give up, try your hardest, even through the night.

###

Mr. Balcazar, Rm. 203, 8th grade

Villanelle
Amairany L.

Get in the car
my dad said
as he came from the bar

I was sad
and just bowed my head, as I
got in the car

Villanelle
Andrea S.

It’s time for you to leave me alone.
The day is almost over.
I need to go home.

Your voice is driving me crazy.
She thinks it’s all about her,
leave me alone.

All you do is sit around and be lazy,
leave and move moreover.
I got to go home.

Leave and go with Daisy,
go eat a burger.
Leave me alone.

I want to turn eighty.
You need a haircut with the barber.
I need to go home.

Go and have fun with Healy,
leave me alone you burger.
Please leave me alone,
because I need to go home.

Villanelle
Anthony W.

Take the day into the night.
The fight was not today,
the storm will not turn gray unless you see the beam of light.

Give God thanks for all that’s light.
Because he shined me with his light, he spared me for the day.
Take the day into the night

because the storm was turning bright.
The storm has gone away.
The storm will not turn gray unless you see the beam of light.

The storm has come to play because the sky has not been bright.
We cannot fight the storm’s gray sight, we will dread with great pain.
Take the day into the night.

###

Ms. Fenton, Rm. 204, 8th grade

Dream
Karina S.

I feel like I am going to sink.
I want to go to sleep.
My sister is happy and gives a wink.

I am thirsty and I want a drink.
I saw someone who gives me the creeps.
I feel like I am going to sink.

I am working and the dog looks and me and blinks.
I see something that I want to keep.
My sister is happy and gives me a wink.

My brain hurts and I don’t want to think.
The car behind gives me a beep.
I feel like I am going to sink.

I feel so pink.
I am in Africa in a big Jeep.
My sister is happy and gives me a wink.

I am so scared I want to shrink.
I fell somewhere deep.
I feel like I am going to sink.
My sister is happy and gives me a wink.

Villanelle
Mary B.

You will get through, just be strong.
Try your best, it will be hard
but you will succeed, and be proud.

Follow the right, don’t do what’s wrong.
But remember, you don’t have a bodyguard.
You will get through, just be strong.

It may be cool, but don’t stand in the crowd.
If it’s too hard, make yourself a card
but you will succeed, and be proud.

It will take time, and it may be long.
Go to 600 N. Boulevard.
You will get through, just be strong.

Don’t feel bad that you might not belong.
Keep this well: your self-regard
but you will succeed and be strong.

Behave, succeed, be strong, before long
you will remember, but keep a memoir
but you will succeed, and be strong.
You will get through, just be strong.

Villanelle
Tania A.

The light in the dust is dead.
It grows as days go by.
The rainbow’s color is shed.

The dark comes, I go to bed.
The light goes in the green bay.
The light in the dust is dead.

It is bigger than my head.
It’s aging in the day.
The rainbow’s color is shed.

The cloud is scattered
and I’ll be in my way.
The light in the dust is dead.

Villanelle, 7th grade

2008-01-31T18:46:00.000-06:00

Here is a sample of our final product from the villanelle series of lessons. Some of the poems below fit into the villanelle format, others are unfinished villanelles, and still others are a different form employing certain elements of villanelle (rhyme patterns and repetition). I really felt like they took ownership of this one, and I'm very happy with the results.

###

Shut Up!
Genina T.

Shut up, listen, listen to me.
He is so mad.
Shut up, I mean, I’m so sorry.

Can I please explain?
He is so sad.
Shut up, listen, listen to me.

I’m in so much pain,
so much sadness.
Shut up, I mean, I’m so sorry.

He is in more pain! Pain, pain, pain,
so much madness.
Shut up, listen, listen to me.

You don’t get it, I’m trying to explain.
No more flatterness.
Shut up, I mean, I’m so sorry.

I tried to explain.
No more loveness.
Shut up, listen, listen to me.
Shut up, I mean, I’m so sorry.

Villanelle
Charles H.

Ding dong, ding dong, won’t you come in
Don’t stand there
Come in, come in

Wipe off that grin
Won’t you come in
Ding dong, ding dong, won’t you come in

Come in, filled with adrenaline
You look so grim
Come in, come in

Take off your moccasins
You can play your violin
Ding dong, ding dong, won’t you come in

We’ll sing a song
Let’s begin
Come in, come in

I have some gelatin
Let’s eat onion skins
Ding dong, ding dong, won’t you come in,
come in, come in

Villanelle
Beatrice R.

Everything scares me in the dark blue sky.
A man dragging his feet on the creaky wooden floor.
Now there’s a good reason why I cry.

This is so strange. Why do I hear children play?
The little ghosts don’t look rich, they look poor.
Everything scares me in the dark blue sky.

I hear people up the stairs but in the day.
A boxer wanting to be stronger by punching my wall more and more.
Now there’s a good reason why I cry.

Villanelle
Myriam L.

I am one and you are too
just sitting thinking about nothing at all.
What will we do?

Staring at the sky, looking at the trees,
that’s all you can do in the fall.
I am one and you are too.

We see little kids playing with glee
and us talking about anything at all.
What will we do?

We watch little ants flee and flee.
We hear our friends call and call.
I am one and you are too.

We just want to sleep.
I hate the fall.
What will we do?

It’s so boring I want to weep.
I am one and you are too.
What will we do?

Villanelle
Braulio R.

It is the world’s darkest hour.
The ghosts are so hypnotic.
We have no more flour.

The world even has no flowers.
The horror is so exotic.
The meat is stale and sour.

People are filled with sorrow.
We are not excited.
The world will end tomorrow.

###

Mrs. Bourret, Rm. 208, 7th grade

Go Skate
Abraham G.

Go skate in that beautiful summer again and again.
Babies should grave a board and learn life.
Anger, anger, try again.

Through wise kids and adults
skating is life and that’s a fact.
Go skate in that beautiful summer.

Good men don’t quit.
The rail needs a grinder.
Anger, Anger, try again.

Wild dudes who are masters
think skateboard is God.
Go skate in the beautiful summer again.

Villanelle
Martin F.

Siblings, please don’t cry.
Let’s have fun and play.
I am here to try.

Try to catch that firefly.
Let’s have a very good day.
Siblings, please do not cry.

My eyes are very dry.
I will listen to whatever you have to say.
I am here to try.

Do you guys want to fly?
We could play with the colorful clay.
Siblings, please do not cry.

All of you are very sly.
Let’s play with an imaginary death ray.
I am here to try.

It’s time to say bye.
You deserve the pay.
Siblings, please do not cry.
I am here to try.

Villanelle
Jonathan N.

Don’t speak, don’t squeak, don’t even laugh.
This castle is so evil.
My leg hurts, I think it’s my calf.

I didn’t want to be there,
the castle is medieval.
Don’t speak, don’t squeak, don’t even laugh.

I was scared of a hair.
I wanted to shrivel.
My leg hurts, I think it’s my calf.

I didn’t follow the trail.
I tried for retrieval.
Don’t speak, don’t squeak, don’t even laugh.

I didn’t take care.
The vase was primeval.
My leg hurts, I think it’s my calf.

My face was a mirror
I wanted to dishevel.
Don’t speak, don’t squeak, don’t even laugh.
My leg hurts, I think it’s my calf.

###

Mr. Czoski, Rm. 209, 7th grade

Guitar Hero
Jesus J.

When I play Guitar Hero
I am very quick
’til I lost and got zero

I’m not a superhero
I get very ticked
when I play Guitar Hero

I’m subzero
I like to kick
’til I lost and got zero

I’m an anti-hero
I am very slick
when I play Guitar Hero

I’m a fearo
I get very ticked
’til I lost and got zero

I’m subzero
I am very quick
when I play Guitar Hero
’til I lost and got zero

To Lose
Kevin Z.

Have you ever felt to lose
It feels just like an ambush
Our streak has gone way past the deuce

Instead of a sitting duck I’m a sitting goose
The enemies’ basket as I stare all I hear is swoosh
Have you ever felt to lose

My anger, my anger, when I look at the final score, we lose by deuce deuce
We could’ve won if my boys never smoked that cush
Our streak has gone way past the deuce

Our enemies are riding victory like a caboose
Every time I play my teammates are so confused
Have you ever felt to lose

As I say again, I’m a sitting goose
I can’t stand it, I’m going through a violent rush
Our streak has gone way past the deuce

My anger, my anger, when I look at the final score: we lose by deuce deuce
I can’t stand it, I’m going through a violent rush
Have you ever felt to lose
Our streak has gone way past the deuce

Villanelle
Alejandra R.

Shading into the woods that are fading
leaving not saying a word to our fame
not knowing what to say when I am failing.

Come on, say something, don’t leave us here waiting,
shading into the woods that are fading.

Don’t, please don’t, it’s not time to fade,
not knowing what to say when I am falling.

Remember the time we used to overtrade,
shading into the woods that are fading?

When we share our things we’re missing everyday,
not knowing what to say when I am failing.

Shading into the woods that are fading,
not knowing what to say when I am failing.

Villanelle
Edgar R.

The world is a battleground of massacre.
It don’t matter what color UR, they’re all out 2 get us.
As we hear the gunshots the world gets blacker, blacker.

All the pain will go away if we believe in her.
There’s no survivors, they hated us before they even met us.
There is more violence than ever, that’s for sure.

As we hear the gunshots, the world gets blacker, blacker.
I don’t know why they make all the fuss.
I wish we could switch good n bad like it was a transfer.

When people die our hearts beat faster and faster
’cuz he didn’t wanna die they called him a wuss.
There is more violence than ever, that’s for sure.

Now the world is a blur.
They would say, Come on, little boy, don’t be a wuss.
I wish we could switch good n bad like it was a transfer.

Don’t U just wanna knock out that fake reporter?
There’s a person who killed my boy named Gus.
There is more violence than ever, that’s for sure.
I wish we could switch good n bad like it was a transfer.

###

Mrs. Harris, Rm. 210, 7th grade

Peace means gun in ghetto
John A.

I feel like I got no one left.
I had an illusion then
I was full of confusion
Give me a peace.
Then we saw the police.
I had honor but I knew I was a goner.
I was a fool, I wasn’t cool,
I was cruel.

I had an illusion then I was
full of confusion.
I feel like I got no one left.
Give me what I want, the peace
then I saw the police.

I had honor but I knew
I was a goner.

I was a fool, I wasn’t
cool, I was cruel.

Unintentional Intentions
Christy Z.

I knew about your electrolyte.
But you’re so naïve, I’m too tired to try.
Naïve drags me across the room, here we are for another late night.

The conversation oh so skin deep.
But you’re so naïve, I’m too tired to try.
I knew about your electrolyte.

You wouldn’t understand with those tear-stained cheek.
But you’re so naïve, I’m too tired to try.
Naïve drags me across the room, here we are for another late night.

I’ll play with you like a deck of cards.
But you’re so naïve, I’ll win my first try.
I knew about your electrolyte.

You’re deaf, you’re blind, and you’re dumb.
But you’re so naïve, I’m too tired to try.
Naïve drags me across the floor, here we are for another late night.

You fooled me like a magician, sly and sweet.
But you’re so naïve, I tried and tried.
I knew about your electrolyte.
Naïve drags me across the room, here we are for another late night.

My Coach
Nick C.

He makes me feel like it is my fault
He releases his anger on me
but he is also my dad

He works hard to make me better
He tries to make me see
He makes me feel like it is my fault

Every time it is my fault
he yells and yells but the tells me the key
but he is also my dad

Why does he keep repeating what he has said before
He sometimes treats me like I’m three
He makes me feel like it is my fault

Why oh why does he push me so much
He is my coach with the black goatee
but he is also my dad

After he pushes me and pushes me, I am better
He is the best coach to me
He makes me feel like it is my fault
but he is my dad.

Villanelle Mania (8th grade)

2008-01-29T15:38:00.001-06:00

Here is one first draft from the 8th graders and turned out quite well. I am very impressed with how Vanessa made use of the repetition in her poem, literally noises heard over and over again in the street.

Today the 8th graders began their villanelles, and next week we'll finish them up, so watch for more to be posted then. I know I can't wait.

###

Villanelle
Vanessa D.

Boom, boom, shooting in the street.
Different gang, different blocks.
Run, run, listening to running feet.

Guys play tough, but inside they’re sweet.
Life is hard, tough like rocks.
Boom, boom, shooting in the street.

Many people try, it’s a game, we kill-n-defeat.
A lot are so scared they shiver in their socks.
Run, run, listening to running feet.

Taking cars, happy when their mission’s complete.
When li’l kids die, families are in shock.
Boom, boom, shooting in the street.

So many aren’t dead but they die in the street.
We try and run but still end up on a block.
Boom, boom, shooting in the street.
Run, run, still listening to running feet.

Villanelle Mania (7th grade)

2008-01-24T15:29:00.001-06:00

Check Jacob's villanelle. We're working on writing the villanelle form with all the classes (we have been reading the classic by Dylan Thomas, "Do not go gentle into that good night," as well as a more contemporary example by Michael Ryan, "Milk the Mouse") but we need one more week to finish up. Jacob, however, handed me this hot potato right away. One of his lines was inspired by "Milk the Mouse." Kudos to him, and enjoy to you.

I should mention that some students in other classes did hand in their first-draft villanelles to me, but Jacob's was the only one that totally stuck to the rhyme and repetition scheme of the traditional form. With that in mind, I plan on posting some of the other examples when they get a chance to take another stab at them.

I've also included a lovely little poem from Susy, which she wrote during the week. Both of these poems are from Mr. Czoski's 7th grade class in room 209.

###

Let me be for once
Susy G.

Confused of life
Confused of love
Confused of where my heart is taking me
Confused about you
Can I just be confused
For a second a minute a year!
Just confused

Villanelle
Jacob L.

They will beat me ’til I’m sore
They will look for me every day
Be strong, be tough, they can’t find me anymore

They think I’m poor
They will look by the bay
They will beat me ’til I’m sore

They saw me running out the door
They won’t find me if I pray
Be strong, be tough, they can’t find me anymore

It was like a war
They are on their way
They will beat me ’til I’m sore

They almost took me down on four
They might find me today
Be strong, be tough, they can’t find me anymore

They hate be because I ignore
I must obey
They will beat me ’til I’m sore
Be strong, be tough, they can’t find me anymore

Lots of people, lots of needs (8th grade)

2008-01-15T19:06:00.000-06:00

After reading “Las mamás con bebé” ("Mothers with a Baby") by Guadalupe Morfín, I asked the 8th graders to envision a personage with some sort of responsibility or problem, and to write a poem as a list of things--both real and fantastical--that could help this person. I emphasized strongly that they could write about someone they knew, but that they should change the tense out of the first person: "My mom" to "Moms," for example. I was encouraged after reading these new strong poems from students you may not have read on this site before.

###

Mr. Balcazar, Rm. 203, 8th grade

Friends with 5 Sisters Need
Andrea S.

a day of freedom
Cinderella to bring her a shoe
time to concentrate in school

Dads with Hard Jobs
Amairany L.

Dads with hard jobs need
a long day without work
to make him laugh
to show him that he’s needed
to show him he’s loved.

Dads with hard jobs need
family to greet him and make
him happy on his worst.

Dads with hard jobs need
to be a prince and take his
Cinderella away from everything.

Teenagers who Need to Relax
Luis P.

Teenagers who need to relax,
who need a spaceship to fly away,
who need stereos as big as a
house,
a closet as big as a room.

###

Ms. Catinella, Rm. 202, 8th grade

Mother with Babies
Alejandra S.

Mothers with babies need free time
waiting to be rescued by a prince.
Something good to do today.
Make the man get up and help
take care of kids.

A single mother would need someone
to help them.
A real family not only work.
Leave her pills and just get health.
Needs to be happy.
Needs to look good.
Needs a long night’s sleep.
A day off without work.
A house elf to help them in the house.
Morning portraits to send messages.
Owls to go to the store.
Needs to have fun with herself.
Love in her life that would never die.

teachers with students
Mariana D.

teachers with students need
fairies to zip their lips
a cup of coffee
an elf to correct work
a magic wand
a giant to put stuff

Moms with Sons
Anthony M.

Moms with sons need
someone to support them
they need a home to
keep them alive
They need some beans
to make them forget
all the bad memories

###

Ms. Fenton, Rm. 204, 8th grade

Sons with Dads
Daniel

Sons with dads need
to be shown how to be a man
show me how a man stands
and show me how to do work
and do the right things
tell me to go to school
and to do womething with my life
not to become a bum
how to do business
and tell about when he was young
and it’s different from now
get me the stuff I need
like clothes, a bed, and my medical needs.
He will always be there.

Teachers with Students
Guadalupe A.

Teachers with students require
someone to help them
to put discipline
to teach them everything
a flying hawk to look over them

Teachers with students require
a large amount of candy
Darth Vader to calm them down
most important—have a lot of patience
be kind and give out As

Sons with No Dads
Edwin R.

Sons with no dads need
someone to play sports
with you someone to drive
you to school someone to
watch TV someone to pay
the bills. Someone to teach
you how to walk someone to
love you. Someone to protect
you from all harms. Someone
to teach you how to drive
your first car. Someone
to teach you how to ride
your bike. Someone to teach
you how to fight. Someone
to teach you how to
catch a football. Someone
to be there for you.

This poem is about... (7th grade)

2008-01-10T17:37:00.000-06:00

When the 7th graders came at this assignment, I felt like it gave them some space to express some things that they hadn't necessarily had a chance to get into before. For instance, Charles' poem seems much more empassioned in tone than many of his earlier pieces. Rene's poem about baseball employs some incredibly striking imagery. In fact, many of the students took this opportunity to either pay tribute to something that they care deeply about (soccer, family, a distinctive friend, skateboarding), or blow off steam about something that gives them anxiety.

###

Mrs. Jamen, Rm. 207, 7th grade

Think?
Charles H.

This is a poem for all the people
who suffered or had a
tragedy
This is a poem for me
This is a poem for you
I want to write a poem that
will catch you and make you
think
This is a poem for people
who don’t have everything they
want
Think please think
and get lost in another
world that is not
yours
Go somewhere be something
that will make you enjoy
every day of your life
This is a poem for you all
?

The Sport
Rene R.

This poem is for baseball.
This poem is about baseball
on how you dive on the outfield giving
up your body to give for a little white
ball. And on how you’re batting and the
pitcher throws the ball and it’s coming
at 100 mph speed and when it comes your
heart starts pounding like you’re going to
get hit with a car. When the ball passes
by your eye you blink and swing and
then the ball starts to fly in the
air and goes where no person gets to
it and it’s gone.

Nothing
Elianay S.

This is a poem for angels
who are looking down on us.
People are walking slower or
faster or no people.
This poem is for my dog.
He is hurt he runs he
darts but inside he’s special.
This poem is about people. Everyone.
That will get lost for this poem.

Oh God Why
Antonio G.

Oh God there is shooting
This is a poem for people
Let’s go inside
People are falling to the bloody ground
Others crying and praying
Families shot everywhere
the cops nowhere in sight
Parents running saying Help! Help!
and then falling to the ground
Cars all shot up
tires flat
windows bulletproof
Oh God why

###

Mr. Czoski, Rm. 209, 7th grade

Come Together
Alejandra R.

Family
come together.
This poem is for Lupe.
Everything is gone,
it messed up my life.
You leaving away makes
everyone stay awake.
This poem is for my mom.
There’s one thing in
live that I love the best.
Never forget never, never
This poem is for my dad.
Dad, you left us alone,
but I don’t have some
madness for U ‘cuz I
know that you love me
most.
This poem’s for my
family that I love the most.
I want it to get fixed and
live in one home.

Better Congregation for the Nation
Joel V.

This poem is for the people.
We need a better congregation for the
nation. Our segregation isn’t done.
Matter of fact it’s just begun, take
us back to the stone age. The
politics are too strong and too
wrong but we the people
united can never be defeated
as long as we stand long
and strong then we could make it.

Don’t Go
Valentina G.

Please don’t go.
I’m worried, scared, sad and tired.
She’s getting ready.
She’s about to go.
I don’t want her to go.
Mexico.
Just please don’t go.
She’s been through enough.
She needs ME.
But I guess it’s her time to go.
I must let go.
Bye.
And there she goes.
This poem is for my mom.

Impossible is Nothing
Edgar R.

This poem is 4 soccer…
I love soccer…but I don’t
have the same feelings about it
anymore. It’s my favorite thing
to do. But when I think about
it it’s like I’m just wasting my
time. One out of one million gets chose
2B professional…but I’m never
gonna give up until I’m that
one. The life lesson I learned
is that impossible is nothing…

###

Mrs. Bourret, Rm. 208, 7th grade

Time
Melissa C.

Let's go back...back into
time
I wake up and the alarm
clock says 9 o'clock
Everywhere I go I hear
Time, Time, Time other
days some say, It's
time, what time is it?
My nerves take over me
and in my mind it goes
Tick Tock Tick Tock
No one is ever on time
It's like a final
destination when you're
almost dead but you
never know when
your life is over
I'm in a rush I'm in
a hurry I'm late
Oh my God!! I need
more time seriously
all these words mean
the same
Come with me to the
future you need I need
some more time
So let's go back into
time...

Afraid
Anissa V.

This is a poem for people who
are afraid
If you take a look around,
people look the same, act the
same, and speak the same
I wonder why this is,
why people are afraid to be
their own person,
afraid to create their own path

You shouldn't care what others
might think,
you shouldn't be afraid if you want
to go out for ballet
even if you're a boy
You shouldn't hesitate if you want
to do football,
even if you're a girl
reach for stars
don't let them stop you
take my hand
I'll help guide you
don't be afraid to live

Life
Karina A.

This is a poem about life.
Old. New. Young. Old.
I want to be dead, but still living
every day.
This is a poem for everyone.
Alive or dead. Standing still or in
the grave. This is a poem that will
change the world and the way
people will look at me; differently.
I want to leave and never
come back. But then again thinking it
over again, the people I'll miss
and objects too. This is a poem
that starts a story but always
ends the same way.

###

Mrs. Harris, Rm. 210, 7th grade

Bobby Jerrysonkins
Lorenzo R.

This poem is about someone I care about...
Energetic, funny, hyper...
Doing cartwheels and writing on mirrors...
Living life your way...not the way you're told...
Night is your morning and morning is tired...
Talking forever...
Watching and listening...being aware...
Hearing one thing...never forgiving...
But I still love you...

Dear My Mom Poem
Daniela M.

This poem is for Jorge M-
who doesn't let me breathe
without asking him
who keeps me trapped in my
room like I'm not important
who doesn't listen to what I have
to say
who leaves me furious when
he ignores me
This poem is for my mom
I don't want to live here
anymore
the screaming the yelling the slamming
the same thing every day
I'm not sure if only you
knew how I feel

The Different Poem
Janan A.

This is a poem for my mother and father
who have always worked hard in
their lives.
This is a poem for people to read
anytime or anywhere

This is a poem that will bring happiness
to people.

This is a poem I have to think
about when I write.

This is a poem for children to read
to their pets.

This is a poem that is different from
the others.

This is a poem I have to stare at
people in order to think.

This is a poem I write with a smile
on my face.

This is a poem for my uncle that
passed away
and I will always love him and miss
him.

This is a poem for things in the
world.

But mostly, this is a poem for me, that
I have written in a different way.

This is a poem that does not label anyone.

Come Back
Gabriela S.

This is a poem for my friends.
I want to party.
I want to write a poem to take all of my anger out.
This is a poem for my dog.
I want it to come back home.
I want to tell my dog I miss him.
I want to talk to someone that will listen to me.
This is a poem for my dream.

Skating
Chris S.

This is a poem for you
just for you like
people were skating
crying bleeding
breaking their bones
going to hospitals
getting X-rays
getting screws
in their knees
wrists elbows
having surgery
staying home
for weeks and
skating all
over again

This poem is about.. (6th grade, Rm. 109)

2008-01-10T17:25:00.000-06:00

Over the holiday break, I was reading Robert Creeley's for Love, and I became obsessed with his poem called "Please." I shared this poem with the kids, and asked them to approach the idea of a poem that referenced itself as a poem, for instance by saying "This poem is for..." or "This poem is about..." Many of them also used other devices that Creeley used in his poem, such as repeating a single word to convey emphasis. The group of poems below is from Mrs. Hernandez' 6th grade class in room 109.

###

So Lonely
Joey M.

This poem is for my cousin
lying in a dark room!
Silence, silence, silence.
She gets so lonely
quiet quiet quiet
like putting on headphones
nothing but air.
This is a poem for my family.

Untitled
Jacqueline S.

Boom!
This is a poem for everyone
I want to go everywhere
everywhere, everywhere
where the loudness is there
This poem is about loudness
every day is loud, loud, loud
I dedicate this poem to my mom

I Want
Christian H.

I want to write a poem
that will cry, that will
touch the sky.
I want my poems to be
alone or to be with
someone.
I want, I need, and I get.

I want to write a poem that
will live and die.

I want to write a poem
for you.

Please Leave it Clean
Miguel G.

This is a poem for my mom.
Tired, let me rest, for a bit can I
sit, cleaning like a maid all day.
Tired like a just ran 5 miles non
stop. Have many bumps and bruises
from hitting my body on stuff
all day, have a headache from
hitting my head, and helping the
kids with the homework all day
today. Can you leave the house
alone for once. Please leave it
clean. This is a poem for my
mom.

Haiku III (Rm. 203, 8th grade)

2008-01-08T19:23:00.000-06:00

I've enjoyed this haiku section immensely. There's soemthing about the smallness of the form that takes the intensity that this group has to offer, and pressurizes it. These from Mr. Balcazar's 8th graders in Rm. 203.

###

Haiku
Luis P.

The view from my mom’s office:
Chicago streets, people, cars, trains
run around like ants.

Haiku
Samantha G.

This moment I want
to walk downtown at night for hours
to see all the lights.

Haiku
Max T.

People should not lie
and have more courage into what
they do, and have guts.

Haiku
Estephanie C.

He never knows what
is going on around him
and he never will

Twirling Clay Haiku
Anthony W.

The pottery pan
rotates in circles again
Maybe it’s finished

Haiku
Jaime S.

In this moment I
hear, “Why am I doing this?
Do I enjoy this?”

Haiku
Rosalina A.

Leaves change from green to
red like a teacher’s face when
he gets very mad.

Haiku
Christian E.

the big black jacket
is falling to the dirty
floor where the rest are.

Haiku III (Rm. 202, 8th grade)

2008-01-08T19:21:00.000-06:00

More striking haiku, this time from Ms. Catinella's 8th graders in Rm. 202.

###

Haiku
Vanessa D.

Our music is really loud.
We can feel the floor moving.
We could dance all night.

Haiku
Samantha N.

Headphones blast music.
The phone is ringing again.
Not heard or answered.

Haiku
Adrian C.

Cars turning to dust
Whales exploding in mid-air
Planes crashing to dust

Haiku
Daniela C.

lots of violence
innocent people dying
disease running

Haiku
Gabriela C.

It’s dull and boring outside
Trees are naked without their
sharp vibrant color

Haiku
Anthony M.

Car smoke stops flowing
The sound of the heater work
The snow on the roofs

Haiku
Mariana D.

thinking if I will
pass 8th grade and go to the
high school that I choose

Haiku III (Rm. 204, 8th grade)

2008-01-08T19:16:00.000-06:00

More haiku poems, which--similar to the batch of Richard Wright poems that we read--seem to reflect some common concerns and perceptions of these students, while often adhering to a fairly traditional format. These from Ms. Fenton's class, Rm. 204, 8th grade.

###

Haiku
Juan M.

It’s cold and raining
A lot of people are out
living on the streets

Haiku
Monica H.

I hear the sound of
the second hands on the clock
as they come to meet.

Haiku
Daniel G.

His mind is calm but
it is not really the most
clear in this moment.

Haiku
Guadalupe A.

Angels of Heaven,
a chorus singing for hope.
On a sunny day.

Haiku
Adriana S.

I hear the sirens
the smoke coming out my door.
Can’t stand the odor.

Haiku
Alex S.

I hear other
classes’ students getting in
trouble and getting yelled at.

Haiku
Katelyn P.

The chalk relaxes
as if it has not rested
for many long hours.

Haiku
Edwin R.

I hate my old house.
There were drugs shooting and gangs.
I hated the ’hood.

Haiku
Margo R.

Rain is pouring down
Grandma is making cookies
for my little cousin

Haiku
Frank M.

Outside snow pours
shoes squeak well I think
nature makes us live

Haiku part III (8th grade, Rm. 201)

2008-01-08T19:04:00.000-06:00

In the 8th grade classes, we took the prewriting we had done ("in this moment...") and used it as source material to write haiku poems. I asked them to select the strongest lines or sections, and shape them into haiku poems. We did this first as a group with a section of text that I had made up and written on the board; I had them suggest cuts and line breaks that would shave the piece down into the haiku format. I included more pieces than usual, since the form is so short. Room 201's contributions are below--the rest to follow in separate postings.

###

Mr. Stalla, Rm. 201, 8th grade

Haiku
Paulina O.

Silent is present
Giggling in the background
Quickly kills silent

Haiku
Christopher V.

light and darkness
darkness is your depression
light is happiness

Haiku
Omar V.

life is everything
people die 'cause people kill
people kill 'cause life

Haiku
Jacqueline L.

When you listen closely
you hear the lead of the pencils
hit the hard desk.

Red
Jacob N.

I'm thinking of the color red
which means passion, fierce, blood,
a strong burning flame.
Anger.

Haiku
Rubi E.

I hear them talkin'
going to work in the car
thinking about pink

Haiku
Victor R.

The sun brightly shines
when the day is bright and new.
And it's filled with fire.

Haiku
Adrian C.

A man is working
thinking of home and his wife
making a living

Haiku
Lorene R.

The summer is just
like getting into a nice
jacuzzi at night.

Haiku
Jessica G.

I'm thinking about
my dad's delicious shrimp soup
when it's cold outside.

Haiku
Alyss D.

Sounds inside my head
are telling me to give up.
This kinda sounds right.

Haiku
Heberto H.

It is too hot out.
The sun won't just go down now.
Can't it just cool down.

Haiku
Raul G.

It is too cold out
There is no sound just silence
Everyone is scared

Haiku
Melissa M.

I hear my heart going
So blow and blow that my heart
go and never hear before

Haiku
Bianca P.

A new child has been
born not knowing that he
is just living to die.

Haiku
Monica C.

Innocent people
are losing lives defending
something that's not theirs.

When my words were... (7th grade)

2007-12-13T17:48:00.000-06:00

"Psalm Three" by Mahmoud Darwish prompted some inventive responses from the 7th graders. Some explored the actual power or impact of their self-expression, some their inner personalities, and others used the assignment to just set up some wild combinations and comparisons. I asked them to rhyme lines 4 and 8 of their poem (in other words, to rhyme here and there, not every line), which some followed to the letter, and others interpreted their own way. We also talked about Darwish's attention-getting final stanza, where he breaks form, and I asked them to also break form in their final stanza.

###

Mrs. Jamen, Rm. 207, 7th grade

The Life
Kevin Z.

When my words were valuable
I was shining

When my words were wrong
I was death

When my words were hurting
I was steps

When my words were caring
I was loved

And when my words were
a sun…I became a star…

Object Effects
Pamela H.

When my words were a chalkboard,
I was written on.

When my words were a door,
I was slammed.

When my words were a clock,
I was ticking.

When my words were paper in a drawer,
I was jammed.

When my words…
Alejandra R.

When my words
were waterfall
I was dark

When my words
were anger
I was falling

When my words
were quiet
I was loud

When my words
were off mind
I was lost

Then my words
were language
but I didn’t
understand

###

Mr. Czoski, Rm. 209, 7th grade

Untitled
Anai M.

When my words
were clear as glass
I was strong

when my words
were drowning
I was weak

when my words
were blowing in the air
I was wrong

when my words were
“never again”
I took a
stand

Untitled
Valentina G.

When my words were like a book,
you wanted to read it.

When my words were like a
scary movie,
it hurt to watch.

When my words were like a
broken heart,
everyone could feel it.

Untitled
Jeffrey C.

When my words were stone
I was alone.

When my words were heard
I was in control.

When my words were in the field
I was full of joy.

###

Mrs. Bourret, Rm. 208, 7th grade

Untitled
Mayra S.

When my words were dropping
I was understood as a helpless one.

When my words were loud
I was victorious.

When my words were weak
I was lonely.

When my words were proud
I was glorious.

Untitled
Anissa V.

When my words were powerful
I was an inspirator

When my words were nothing
I was a shadow with a host

When my words were believed
I was feared

When my words were dark
I was a haunting ghost

But when my words were me
I finally became the person I
wanted to be

Untitled
Danny M.

When my words were depression
I was sorrow.

When my words were death
I was a spirit.

When my words were disappointment
I was pity.

When my words were success
I was failure.

###

Mrs. Harris, Rm. 210, 7th grade

Criss Cross
Christy Z.

When my words were rain
I was dry

When my words were black
I was lime green

When my words were dry
I was bored

When my words were flying
I was dying

When my words were silent
I was proud

When my words were plastic
I was sugar

When my words were static
I was flatline

However when my words became
weak
my tongue became swollen

Random
Nick C.

When my words were couch
I was busy.

When my words were Sox
I was box.

When my words were books
I was dogs.

When my words were fear
I was fox.

Only when my words were floor
I was roller coaster.

My Words
Xavier C.

When my words were heavy metal
I was famous

When my words were solid
I was hollow

When my words were nasty
I was outrageous

When my words were awesome
I was followed

Haiku prep: In This Moment (8th grade)

2007-12-11T18:05:00.000-06:00

Richard Wright wound a fairly traditional approach to haiku around topics like poverty, urban and rural life, sickness and death, race, and innocence. We read a selection of 14 of his haiku, and I had each student memorize one. We then discussed the themes that Wright seemed to be concerned with, and traced them as they appeared in these selections. After that, I asked the students to complete a freewrite, using the prompt "In this moment," describing scenes that were or could be happening "in this moment." I emphasized that they must write constantly until I told them to stop, and not even to pause for thought or to fix a mistake.

I usually don't post pre-writing, but in this case, I thought it might be interesting to see the process. Notice the strategies that some students employed in order to keep moving when they had "run out" of ideas. I also noticed that some of the stronger, wilder images came through during the second half of writing, as the students unplugged and became looser. As these are going to be turned into haiku, many of the fevered and intense lines that these kids pumped out as I told them how many minutes they had left will, by necessity, be cut and perhaps not appear elsewhere. I post these selections here unedited, as they were written, not as poetry necessarily, but to give you an idea of the landscape and raw material that the students draw from.

###

Mr. Stalla, Rm. 201, 8th grade

Carina A.

In this moment
baby sister
watching TV
eating fruit loops
laughing

In this moment
I’m thinking
bored
wondering
do other people feel
the same way?

In this moment
trees’ leaves
yellow
to none

In this moment
red books
being opened

In this moment
quiet
filled with thoughts

In this moment
mom
cooking
wondering
are my kids OK?

In this moment
snow losing its
white shine
with dirt.

In this moment
with a city so loud
cars, trucks,
factories
no one can hear
the leaves fall.

Adrian C.

A man is in a factory
working a giant machine
Getting tired
Thinking of home
Thinking of his wife
wondering about her little girl
seeing every living being work
minding their business
making a living

Colors dark and light
everything is grey
rain is pouring darkness
sorrow is sad as blood is red
someone just passed
Black is worn around
winter comes in pearls of white snow
Everything is white slightly looking blue

Everywhere I go the wind is whishing
I hear people talking Sound is the best.
people arguing
kids playing in the sand
the sound of waves crashing

Raul G.

In this moment my brother, downtown, driving
a train, the CTA is where he works.

In this moment people are freezing outside
in the cold.

In this moment there are car wrecks
because of the icy roads.

In this moment people are dying because of
the rain, the cold, the homeless, the poor.

In this moment children have nowhere to
stay, nowhere to be warm.

In this moment I am safe.

In this moment the beautiful white snow
is turned black by the nasty dirt.

In this moment the girl with the
brown hair is thinking about the boy in
the black shirt.

In this moment there is no sound just
silence outside everyone is afraid to go
out.

In this moment there are bombs exploding.

In this moment there are children
and families crying.

In this moment there is pain.

###

Mr. Balcazar, Rm. 203, 8th grade

Cesar A.

In this moment garbage is all I think about
my cousin is in the skatepark the sound of the
wheels smacking the ground the sound of cars
passing by the park the color of the skateboard
black the ramp is brown like wood

Amirany L.

In this moment I’m bored
in this moment my dad is working
in this moment my dad is cold
in this moment there is pollution
in this moment my mom is sleeping
in this moment can’t wait ‘til
soccer practice
in this moment I have no idea
what else to write
in this moment I have to
keep writing
in this moment I like poetry. In
this moment I have 30 seconds
to keep writing.
In this moment I’m done.

In this moment I hear a voice.
In this moment I hear knuckles crack.
I hear footsteps around me.
I hear a car slam on the
brakes.
I hear a boom or crash by
the streetlight.
I hear mom mom saying, “I told
chu so.”
I hear I have 30 sec.
I feel like my hand is
gonna fall.

I have black hair.
I have black shoes.
I see the sky is gray.
A stormy gray day.
I see a black-haired guy.
I see my mood is gray.
I see my bracelet is purple.
I see I’m wearing white.

Jaime S.

In this moment I think about what life
is going to be like when I get older.
What is going to happen to me, what job will
I have, am I gonna have good money. Bad job
and have to pay a lot of bills for the rest of my
life. The only way to have a good life
is to go to school and have an education.

In this moment I hear myself, “Why am I
doing this, do I enjoy doing the things I
do,” that’s what I hear but I know I can
change and will try to change.

In this moment I see white snow, I look at
it as it falls down the sky and as soon as
it finishes falling. I go to my friend’s house and
have a snowball fight.

###

Miss Catinella, Rm. 202, 8th grade

Samantha N.

In this moment,
some people are being way too free,
others at work.
In this moment,
new songs are being written by new and old artists.
In this moment,
the world is “going down, in an earlier round”
Too many wars being fought, with child soldiers
In this moment,
someone is writing to someone important,
telling them to send someone to Africa to stop
the war.
In this moment,
a band is thinking about how to move forward.
In this moment,
the people in charge are letting us down.
In this moment,
people I know are being lame,
probably laughing like crazy,
because that’s the way they are.

In this moment,
the DJ headphones blast music so loud,
the “A&R” guy’s phone is ringing again,
people wanting his help once more.
In this moment,
he answers the phone
and he helps them,
in this moment.

In this moment,
green eyes are staring at a tree,
the green leaves give inspiration.
In this moment,
green eyes stare at a stage, watching the bassist.

Victor O.

In this moment I want
to go to sleep I wish I
was at my house asleep in
my warm bed. In this moment
soldiers are fighting Iraq
for my freedom while I’m
just falling asleep during
class, while I listen to kids
in my room laugh and I
hear kids writing I want
to go to Disneyland and
having some fun with my
family…
In this moment I
hear cars moving down
the street I hear
buses I hear rain
falling I hear the air
conditioner
I see a blue whale
in a blue sea, coming
up for fresh air

Alla Z.

In this moment
I am in school
doing some work my mom
is at home waiting for us to go
home. In this moment outside looks
beautiful, the trees flowing with the wind. The
snow covering everything in its path.
The clock is going slow, I can’t wait until
I am out of here.

I hear the sound of pencils writing
on a paper, your shoes tapping on the floor.
In this moment, the sound of leaf falling on the ground.
The green board waiting for someone to
write on it. The blue door of the classroom
waiting for us to leave.

###

Ms. Fenton, Rm. 204, 8th grade

Edwin R.

At this time I am thinking
about when I used to
live at my old house
and how it was so scary
at New Year’s because you
would not know if the guns
are shooting or the fireworks.
At this time I am hearing
the gunshots and fireworks
mixed together and hearing -----
breaking people scream outside it
could be someone born
themselves or they got shot?
At this time I see the
fireworks in
the sky and little fireworks
at the floor for a doubt
I see but it can be
a gunshot.

Name Withheld

In this moment my
aunt is at home with the baby
making food and the TV is
on. The baby is watching
Channel 11 or she is on
her rocking horse
having fun. The smell is the
food and it smells
like milk from the baby.
My aunt has the
pot boiling waiting for her
boyfriend to come home from
work and see how his day
went. She might decide on
going to my grandparents’
house seeing if anybody is
home and wants to see how
they’re doing.

In this moment I
can hear pounding noises outside
my door. I hear a
pot steaming on the
stove. The washing machine
is going round and round
and you can hear it
washing. You can hear the
static coming from the
TV because the movie is
over. You can hear the stairs
creak when someone’s going up
the stairs.

In this moment
I can see green trees with
little yellow lemons growing
in the tree. I can see
shoes the color
of a rainbow.

Jasmine R.

In this moment I can picture kids
playing outside with snowballs.
The things I hear is kids laughing
kids saying, “I’m going to get
you,” and I know they feel
that coldness rushing past their
faces. And they scream and it’s
wintertime.

In this moment I hear voices
all around me I hear the teachers
talking in the other rooms I
can hear the wind on the other
side of the window school I said
with everything rushing around
me.

In this moment I see white
because the walls all around
me are that color I see blue
because all students are wearing
blue.

Daisy Faces? Snow Voices? (7th grade)

2007-12-06T21:47:00.000-06:00

Below you'll see some more samples of the personification poems inspired by reading Cisneros and O'Hara. We spent another week on this, editing and finishing up. You'll see Miguel's poem below, in a revised draft, which is a little longer and uses line and stanza breaks. In other cases new material was generated.

###

Mrs. Jamen, Rm. 207, 7th grade

The Cars that Never Stop
Miguel M.

I see the cars
from my window
I seem them running
like people run
during a race.

I see their wheels
moving fast like
if they were
human legs trying
to be the first
ones to get to
their destination.

I ask them if they
are tired of
running all day
trying to be the
first ones to get
where they can
rest for some time
but they said they
like going from
one place to another
because that’s what
they know to do.

The Daisies Through My Window
Daisy H.

The daisies through my window
with the colors of the rainbow
talk to me with understanding.
I feel like we are combining.

The daisies move their hands around
trying to explain to me what is around.
Their petals around their faces
bring a smile to my face.

Although they are on the ground,
I feel them go all around,
I feel a connection between us.
Now it’s only one of us.

The Stars I Saw
Lorybeth A.

What I saw outside my
window would be the stars.
The stars looking at me and I
at them. In the middle of the
night. My eyes were shiny looking
at the stars. They looked like diamonds
that I saw from my mom’s
hand.

###

Mr. Czoski, Rm. 209, 7th grade

Snow
Pedro G.

When I look out the window
I see my garage snow dead
leaves. And a 50-foot tree
with the AC boxes and my
little niece’s Escalade
stuck with snow in it and
out of it my lawn
mower. And the snow is
telling me, “I wish you a merry
Christmas.” And
it makes
me
happy.

Joel
Joel V.

“Good morning, Joel, good morning!
Wake up, you can sleep all you
want when you die,” says the wind.
”No, I’m too tired!”
“No? Wake up!! It’s time to
survive.”
I look out the shattered window
at the decaying streets.

The Stars
Susy G.

Stars twinkle in the
darkness. They lead you
wherever you want to
go!
feeling like you’re getting lost.
But that is the
only thing leading you home.

###

Mrs. Harris, Rm. 210, 7th grade

House
Jose A.

The house was really mad yesterday.
I know why, he told me why, he
said he hates when people go inside
his mouth, he said he especially
hates the kid who smells and
tastes like cookies and dirt (my cousin),
and hates the women in his
stomach who gossip about each
other behind their backs (my aunts),
and those men in his lungs
who keep arguing about
the rules of poker and
whose breaths smell like beer (my uncles),
he says he sometimes wonders:
was he chose ’cause he was the only
one that was right or ’cause he was
the only one left, but sometimes
I wonder that too.

Moon
Daniela

The moon that stays in
the same place and watches
me through my window,
I noticed that he’s
kind of lonely.
He needs a homie.
Today I left my shade open
and my window so he knows
that I’m here, to chill with.
So know he’s not that lonely.

The Yellow Brick
Jose M.

The yellow brick road as it
stands with nothing to
do. It used to be
yellow, all you see
is graffiti all over it, just a
piece of art as it just
stands, cross and candles,
the cross has the names
of the people who died
on the yellow brick road.
The yellow brick road as
it stands with nothing to do.

Singing personality: more personification (6th grade, rm. 109)

2007-12-06T17:33:00.000-06:00

We spent a second week revising our personification poems, which gives me a chance to showcase more of them! The below poems are from Mrs. Hernandez' 6th grade class in room 109.

###

White Snow
Miguel G.

Snow is cold not
warm but very cold looks like
many squished marshmallows all outside
walk outside up to my ankles
all white but not as bright kids are
not hoping for
sunshine.

Star
Samuel N.

Once in the night sky a star
came down from the sky and it had
singing personality and let me turn into
a star and fly high up in the sky and then
I fall down down into the clouds which
were my bed and "Good night, star," I said. As I
went to bed.

The Paper Trip
Yaneliz R.

I write on the paper.
It talks to me. It is telling
me about his trip, how
he used to be a tree. "They
cut me up to pieces until I
was paper," the paper said.

"What a trip! Did it
hurt?" I asked.

"Sure it didn't, I am
very strong and powerful," the
paper said.

"Are you sure?" I
asked.

"Sure I'm sure! When
I say something I mean it."
The paper had finished his story.

Personification a la O'Hara and Cisneros--6th grade

2007-11-29T22:00:00.000-06:00

Here are a few more of those poems featuring personification, inspired by Frank O'Hare and Sandra Cisneros, by Mrs. Hernandez's 6th grade class in Room 109.

###

Moon
Daisy A.

Black the sky is.
The white moon flashes through the black.
Round eyes, curved mouth, solid as a stone.
Talk to me, moon, day and weeks I
waited. I reach to touch but I'm too
far. I got to bed as soon as it's pitch
black, I see your white eye blink.

A Lonely Car
Vanessa A.

I look out my window. I see a
car. A car with blue skin. A car
who's overweight. A car with four
legs, who runs all day long. A car
with feelings. Who's always sad
and never happy. He talks to
me with no words but tears.
No one sees to understand him but
me. I go outside and comfort
the car. When he is sad I am
sad. When he cries I cry. I ask
him, "What's wrong?" He tells me
he's lonely. I tell him, "I'm here,
I'm here."

My Garage
Miguel A.

My garage opens his mouth and sticks
out his tongue.

I look at it for a long time until
his tongue drives away.

My sister screams, "Stop looking
at the dumb garage."

I say, "Shut up!" and she does.

My garage starts talking. It says,
"Be nice to your brothers and
sisters."

I ask why.

He says, "What if you want them
to be nice to you?"

"Oh, right," I say.
"Then why do you pour gas
on your brother, the yard?"

Windy Night
Miguel G.

I heard a screech at my window.
The windy city is living up to its
name tonight. Very windy, not
completely peaceful as I thought
it would be tonight. "I must ask
you something," said the tree. He
is scared, like when you watch
a very scary movie at night. "May I
use a jacket? I am freezy." Planes
passing, trains running, and trees are
screaming of windows.

Windowpane Personification -- 7th grade

2007-11-29T18:04:00.000-06:00

I shared two poems with the students, both that had speakers who observed something from their bedroom window, and used personification to help describe this thing, and found some inspiration from it as well. We read and discussed "Four Skinny Trees/Cuatro arboles flaquititos" by Sandra Cisneros, and "A True Account of Talking to the Sun on Fire Island" by Frank O'Hara, before we wrote our own window poems, where I asked them to choose a non-human item they can see from their window and use personification to describe it. More specifically, I encouraged them to envision a conversation beteween themselves and this thing (similar to Frank and the sun in "A True Account").

###

Mrs. Jamen, Rm. 207, 7th grade

A Promising Star
Paola S.

I was falling asleep
when a tiny little voice yelled, "Come out!"
I arose sleepily and opened my door.
I went outside to my porch.
"Where are you?!" I yelled.
"Look up here!" a glitter fell on my head.
"Now look, I've been sent to give
you an important message."
I was trying to look at it but its shiny
mouth kept hurting my delicate eyes.
"I've heard you have been getting in
trouble, making bad decisions."
It was short but wide arms pointed at
me.
"Yes, see lately I don't know what to
do, I'm confused, I don't know how to
make my own choices."
I couldn't help it, my eyes
were watery.
"Look, I promise, just follow your
heart and it will guide you to
a good path."

Estrella
Daniela G.

Una estrella en la noche
brillaba como nunca,
y decide hacerla mi
amiga. Ella siempre
me escucha lo que tengo
que contar aunque sea
tan aburrido que hasta
yo misma me quedo
dormida pero para ella
no importa porque es
mi mas grande amiga.

The Cars That Never Stop
Miguel M.

I see the cars from my window.
I see them running like
people run during a race.
I see their wheels moving
fast like they were human
legs trying to be the
first ones to get to their
destination. I ask them if
they are tired of running
all day trying to be the
first ones to get where they
can rest for some time
but they said they
like going from one place
to another because that's
what they know to do.

###

Mr. Czoski, Rm. 209, 7th grade

Grass
Cynthia S.

I see the grass very dark.
It said, “I feel so lonely. Nobody
pays attention. They step
on like I don’t have feelings.”
“That’s exactly how I feel,” I said.
“I like when the kids play
on, especially soccer,” said the grass.
“Don’t let your emotions
take control of you. You have to be
very strong,” told me,
the grass.

The Stubborn Car
Louis B.

the cars were running by
yelling in their deep voices
I yell back “be quiet out there”
it ignores me
I yell it again
the car behind it tells it to listen to me
the car tells me “forget you”
I throw a toy car at it
the car blows its exhaust at me
I scream “stupid car”
then I shut my window

Moon
Jesus Jacquez

The moon is very bright at night
the moon comes down and shines on me
and tells me, “What’s wrong?”
“I got an F on my test.”
The moon told me, “Keep studying.”
“I do study,” I said.
“Then go to school and study there
and tell the teacher what you need
help on,” said the moon.
“O.K.” I said.
“O.K., bye,
I have to rise down so the sun
can come up.”
“Bye,” I said.

###

Mrs. Bourret, Rm. 208, 7th grade

Moon
Stephanie G.

Moon—the moon talks
to me and tells
me things like, “Be
confident.” And I
tell it, “How?” And it says,
“Figure it out yourself. You
know how. Just try. YOU
CAN DO IT.”

The moon talks
to me every night when
everyone is sleeping.

The more I grow
up, I’m more confident.

Her name is LALA because
she sings to make people
go to sleep. When she
sings I fall asleep and
become more confident.

Untitled
Emilio R.

I could hear the wind talk
to the tree. I hear swift words.
I hear the tree rumble in the
darkness…I hear what I can’t see.

Houses
Cristian G.

When I saw my neighborhood
it seemed like family.
Being all together,
watching each other.
When the curtains open and
close, it’s looking at someone.
Your neighbors coming out the
house and cleaning up the house.
They give you protection by
keeping you in the house.
Thank you, house,
for keeping me safe,
and I will thank you back.

###

Mrs. Harris, Rm. 210, 7th grade

The Beautiful Stars
Ashley C.

I look out the window and I
see the stars. I’m talking to
my friend on the phone but I don’t
really pay attention. I just stare.
I hope they don’t mind that I stare. They’re
just so beautiful. I tell my
friend I will talk to her
later because I don’t want
her to tell me something
important and I won’t
be paying attention. So then
I stare and wonder, they’re so
far away, yet they glow as
if they were a new light bulb that
just turned on. So I sneak outside
and lay on the cold and wet
grass but I don’t care, there just
lay and stare, the stars so
amazing and they’re so nice and
generous, they show their talent
by giving me a show. The best
thing: they don’t talk, but they sing.

The Fence
Janan A.

“Ya!” it said as I walked by it. “Why
don’t you close me? I am always
standing here to keep your house safe.
And you don’t close me?” “Sorry,” I say,
“I forget sometimes.” “Well, you can’t
forget,” it says. “You don’t know how
it feels standing out here in the
cold nights. And in the melting
summers. Why don’t you try
standing out here with me just
this one night?” it says. “Please!”
So I stay. And the next day
I leave and close the gate. With
a smile.

Wind
Dalia C.

It stands there with no reasoning.
The wind blows,
but it still stays in its place.
The grass says nothing.

Fear: a further poetic exploration--8th grade

2007-11-27T17:37:00.000-06:00

After reading and discussing the fear cento poems with the 8th grade classesI asked the students to take one line from their class poem and explore it a little further, using it as the first line of their own poem. They could choose one of their own lines or someone else's. Here are the interesting results.

###

Mr. Stalla, Rm. 201

The Darkness
Jacqueline L.

I fear the darkness under my bed
where someone or something could
be hiding.

I fear it because you never know
when something might pop out

It could grab hold of your leg
and pull you in

It would have you as a midnight
snack on the way to the bathroom

I would feel the creepy crawlers
as I hide under my covers

They would slowly forget me and
the day I disappeared

It was all because I could not
open my eyes and turn on the lights

Untitled
Yoseline M.

I fear walking alone in the dark street
where there’s no light.
No hope, nobody to lean on.
Hear cars pass me by like a dog
on the side of the street with no owner,
lost in the world.
Dark.

I Fear the World Might End Soon
Victor R.

We are all going to die.
Humanity will cease to exist.
Our hopes and dreams will be gone.
Disaster and chaos everywhere.
Nature and beauty gone.
No one to learn.
No one to learn from.
Fire and rocks are the only things left.
No more summer nights.
No more friendship or kindness.

###

Mr. Balcazar, Rm. 203

Rage
Christian E.

I fear the rage inside when it comes out
destroying and messing with everything
in sight. The rage can only be controlled
with PIE. Apple pie.
The warm inviting smell calms the
rage down. With the rage calmed down
I can rest once again.

Luis F.

I fear the dark, it's like a hole in the world,
walking into the basement, pitch dark
thinking there's someone everywhere you look,
hearing noises inside your head,
frantically looking for the light switch.
You see someone walking up to you.

You turn on the light,
a sigh of relief, you look
around, there is nothing.

Yocelin J.

I fear the grade F on the paper in front of me
people making fun of you
teacher's disappointment
B honor roll to nothing
feeling dumb
getting mad
fear going home with that paper

###

Ms. Catinella, Rm. 202

Oscar V.

I fear dying young,
not accomplishing what I want in life,
not seeing things I want to see,
not having a family.

Mariana D.

I fear dark alleys
where there are things that lurk at night
eyes looking at me
noises from behind
not knowing what could happen
something coming
look behind nothing there

Corina S.

I am afraid of not getting
through the gates, and getting sent
down. To lose my chance of being in
peace. To keep my fear in me, it is hard,
but to lose it is harder.

###

Ms. Fenton, Rm. 204

Marcos P.

I fear not making it to the majors
because I might suck at it and
I'll be the worst player in
the team. Then they'll send
me to minor leaguers and will
only pay me very little but
I also fear if I'm the
best, everyone will
hate me and the
team trades me
to the
Chicago Cubs.
Even though the Sox are better.
GO SOX!

Alex S.

I fear my mouth, what it says.
I want to say the right things.
I don't want to be wrong.
I don't want to hurt people with
what I say.
I don't want people to get mad.
I don't want to get in trouble
with what comes out of my mouth.
I want to stop swearing at people
who I shouldn't.

I Fear What I Fear
Frank M.

I fear what I fear. I can't
even figure out what it is that
I fear. I fear something everyone
fears, something I need
to find out what it is that
I fear. I don't fear monsters.
If I only knew what it is
that I fear. I fear what I fear.
What is it that I fear?

Yo soy un hombre sincero...

2007-11-15T22:40:00.000-06:00

We spent some time with the first verse of "Versos Sencillos" by Jose Marti, a long, rhyming, metered poem, a manifesto of sorts--a statement of ideas, principles, and purpose--that contains a lot of vivid concrete imagery. I brought a small bag filled with slips of paper, each one with a different word (mostly nouns; like salt, paper, water, etc.). I had each student draw three words, and asked them to write the story of their life, or a story of their life, or their own manifesto. The details could be real or made up. They had to use all three words. I also asked them to write in three-line stanzas.

I had a chance to do this writing with two out of four 7th-grade classes. The results were fascinating; I can't wait to try it with the other two.

###

Mrs. Jamen, Rm. 207, 7th grade

Untitled
Charles H.

I lay on my bed
with the cover overhead
I read a book that
I can’t understand

I walk down
my dark stairway
looking for candlelight,
I’m scared to death
because I can’t see a thing

I wanted in the
kitchen where I eat
a carrot
I don’t understand
why I ate a carrot

I go back up
and I go to
sleep where I
dreamt of a
carrot, candle, and a cover

Untitled
Myriam L.

I sit under a tree
with my sketchbook in my lap
thinking, imaginating, and drawing

Picking at the staple
holding my papers together
not paying attention

Untitled
Paola S.

My life is like a blank sheet,
it’s not destroyed, but not smooth
though there’s nothing there.
It’s like a rock.

Untitled
Lorybeth A.

I see grass within glass.
I tie my lace with my hands.
I use my shoe to walk to school.

Vampire Heart
Aaron B.

I have looked for
garlic on one of my
very high shelves. I ran
through the doorway and
killed the vampire with it!

###

Mr. Czoski, Rm. 209, 7th grade

Dark Lonely
Shakeela M.

My life’s like ink on paper
splattered with emotions no one knows.
There’s a lot of things in my life that comes
and goes.
When I’m sad my life is slow.
I’m like a plate on the floor.
I have no one else.
I’m all alone all by myself.
I feel so sad inside I might need
help.
I’m like cream with cones.
Different than others.
But some people tell me I look like
my mother, and that’s a real bother.

Untitled
Lilibeth U.

I remember when I was little
I used to be a sweet as sugar.
And I used to be bossed by everyone.

But one day I felt like I was getting
used by everyone. I felt like hiding
inside a bag so everyone would leave me alone.

I could feel the salty tears running through
my face. That’s when I exploded. The girl
that used to have a heart that was as
sweet as sugar turned into a girl that
has a heart as hard as cement.

When You’re Doing Life
Kevin Z.

When you’re doing life
you feel like a book
you’re being read until you’re dead
When you’re in prison you feel
like a screen you get looked at and you
will never be seen

Untitled
Cynthia M.

Outside in the brisk fall
morning by the big oak tree
raking up the leaves in
little piles then walking away
and having to go back and
do it again.

My mother calls
me in from the cold to
eat lunch. Mmm—spaghetti and garlic
bread and a glass of chocolate
milk.

Family comes looking around.
I’m nowhere to be found.
I’m on the roof to relax
looking at the stars.

My Life
Cyntha S.

The mother watches us
grow just like
we do when we’re growing a
tree.

Onions’ mothers don’t like them
because they make them cry, just
like me.

Glass is see-through sometimes.
I wish that I could see
through my life.

Life
Susy G.

Feeling like a curtain
is wrapped around me
not able to move

The river going
fast and faster like you can’t
run fast like the way your life goes!

The way your blood
goes fast through your
body!

Haikuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu

2007-11-08T22:57:00.000-06:00

Oh, how exciting it was to work on these haiku poems. These kids were intent and intense. We started with a freewriting exercise last week to get warmed up to the idea--and generate some material--and this week we used that material to craft some lovely gems, some razor-sharp moments, some crystal snapshots, pictured below.

I was especially impressed with the students' willingness to mess with conventional sentence structure, and toy with how they articulated their original images and ideas in order to fit the haiku structure.

###

Mrs. Hernandez, Rm. 109, 6th grade

Haiku
Samuel N.

The birds are chirping.
The wind is blowing like a
freezer in a store.

My dogs are barking.
Also the clouds are flowing.
They’re going away.

Haiku
Chris R.

School I do and write
I blush in embarrassment
I laugh while I laugh

Haiku
Briana D.

It’s very dark outside,
soon will be time to sleep.
Dark, outside I’m scared.

Haiku
Miguel G.

staring at the sky
daydreaming about many things
that the bell can ring

Haiku
Daisy A.

I am in a class
where desks move like blue and white
rumbling water

Tomatoes are brown.
My face blushes in the cold.
Trees are calm and cold.

Aunt cooking a pie.
The sour blueberry pie.
My aunt, a berry pie.

I have to praise you...

2007-11-01T17:15:00.000-05:00

More poems from the "Praise Poem" exercise, based on "Praise Song" by Lucille Clifton. I have some poems here from Mrs. Bourret's 7th grade class in Rm. 208; I only did this writing with one classroom, as we were occupied with reading and discussing the "I Fear" poems. More praise poems next week!

With this writing, I wanted to push the kids past the expected (encouraging them to praise representative parts of an item, or to praise unusual things that we wouldn't normally consider praiseworthy), and for them to warm up to the point that something unexpected might emerge.

Here are three examples; these three all seem to reach a point in the writing where they stumble over something new.

###

Untitled
Eric W.

I praise my mom, a special
woman that I adore a lot. She’s
pretty, makes me happy. But when
things happen she cries her pretty
eyes out, her tears just flowing
to the drain, then she falls out
and sleeps the night away.

Untitled
Gerardo I.

I praise that there is
a heart in everyone because
there is love in everyone’s heart.

Also I praise that
there is a hand to guide
when you are lonely.

Also I praise that
there is an ear that can
hear me when I am sad.

Also praise that there are
eyes that can see someone
in their ugliest.

Untitled
Anissa V.

Praise to my father’s voice; not how it
sounds but what it says.

Praise to the soil, ’cause if it wasn’t for
it we wouldn’t have plants or
vegetables to eat.

Praise to teachers, for giving you
education for your future.

Praise to pictures; without them I
wouldn’t be able to see my grandfather’s
face.

Praise to memories that you never
forget.

Praise to stories that tell you
about a loved one who you’ve
never seen or met.

Praise to dreams, ’cause without
them, what would we have
to live for?

Praise to poetry, you can let out
your emotions and express
yourself fully.

Praise to love that warms my
heart when I’m sad, the feeling
of being loved by your family I
think is the best love around.

Praise to the colors, which we
need to make a beautiful
painting.

Praise Songs, 6th grade, room 109

2007-11-01T13:35:00.000-05:00

Lucille Clifton's poem "Praise Song" describes a strange incident involving the speaker's aunt, which very nearly ends in tragedy, but doesn't. In Mrs. Hernandez's 6th grade class, I asked the students to think of everyday things that they would praise, encouraging them to zoom in on some part or aspect of this item (as Clifton's speaker praises "the arms of the family."), or on some unexpected item to praise.

Here are some samples. Notice how Daisy mentions "words and voice" when talking about the poetry we read in class. I introduced the topic of voice on the first day when we were discussing "Abuelito Who." I'm also interested in the exuberance in Briana's poem, and how she breaks form at the end to let that play out. Also, note Miguel's internal rhyme, how he played with the word sounds a little.

###

Untitled
Daisy A.

Praise to Mrs. Hernandez whose brain
helped me get my grades up.

Praise to Mrs. Javellana whose poetry
has words and voice.

Praise to my sister. Without her I wouldn’t
have a heart.

Praise to the trees that give us
paper.

Praise to my eyes ’cause without them
I wouldn’t see.

Praise, Praise, Praise
Briana D.

Praise to my mom for having me.
Thank you.
Praise to my dad for everything
he does for me.
Praise for my two silly brothers
for making me laugh.
Praise for my friend for
having my back;
Thank you!
Praise for my mom for saying
I’m her right hand.
I love when she says that!
XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

Untitled
Miguel A.

Praise to videogame creators and their creative heads.

Praise to calculator that cheats for me in math.

Praise snow like a cold version of clay dough.

Praise to hair that keeps my head warm.

Praise the T.V. and all its comedy shows.

Fear Poems cont'd, Rm. 208

2007-10-25T20:00:00.000-05:00

Another installment in the fear poems! This one from Room 208.

###

The Fear
Rachel Javellana and Room 208, Mrs. Bourret’s 7th grade class, Lee School

I fear when someone pops out of the corner, when someone says BOO! from the other
side of the wall.
I fear cancer—you never know if someone you care about will die from cancer.
I fear being outside in the dark after hours.
I fear not knowing what is going to happen in the future; is something amazing going to
happen or is something terrible going to happen?
I fear when I’m watching a scary movie at night.
I fear being home alone at night.
I fear green eyes. They’re so evilish.
I fear big, mean, scary clowns.
I fear walking alone with my little sister after school not knowing what can happen.
I fear evil strangers killing innocent people; who will be next?
I fear the body, ’cause I don’t know what develops and when it develops.
I fear being awake at night and getting out of bed for any reason. I feel that someone will
grab my feet and take me away to a horrible world. Or that someone is waiting
for me to take away.
I fear being alone in the house in the dark scary night.
I fear to know I fail my parents in my grades at school.
I fear ruining my life and wasting my childhood by growing up too fast.
I fear a tiger attacking me in a jungle.
I fear big airplanes that could fall.
I fear Iraq attacking America at day or night.
I fear the ISAT test; too much answers.
I fear mice scratching inside the walls.
I fear the darkness because of the couch in the living room.
I fear my dog we sleep at night.
I fear scary clowns that chase me at night or the day of Halloween, ’cause I fear them
catching me.
I fear when I walk through the basement, turn off the lights and I walk up the stairs. I
feel like someone’s behind me.
I fear huge mountains that could fall on you.
I fear scary movies.
I fear people dying. Knowing that one day I won’t be able to hug them and have a
conversation.
I fear when I look in my closet and my light is off but when I walk up the light flickers red.
I fear when I walk downstairs to the basement; when I’m on the last step, the light starts
flickering above me.
I fear the dark when I’m alone in my room and the closet is open.
I fear sleeping in the night in my basement.
I fear what people say when I’m not around.
I fear to lose a friend by a word in a conversation.
I fear breaking my arm ollieing down a stairset.
I fear when my life ends. And goes to waste.
I fear dying at the skatepark at night.
I fear my coaches, ’cause they push me. I do it but I don’t know if I did it right.
I fear that the stuff that happens in those ridiculous horror flicks will happen to me, even
though I know it’s not real.
I fear being up in the night.
I fear the dark basement when I go down alone.
I fear heights when I look down and I’m up high.
I fear the lightning in the dark sky.
I fear walking down a dark scary alley.
I fear the airplanes when they’re flying on top of the house.
I fear going into an abandoned building at night.
I fear people at night when I go outside.
I fear the basement, getting the food or broom out of fridge and closet. Feeling like
someone will come out and take me away from my life.
I fear clowns. They look very weird, their hair is scary.
I fear when two people split a pole.
I fear someone is going to break into the house.
I fear going to the basement.
I fear tornadoes hitting the area.
I fear sleeping by myself.
I fear planes. They’re big and scary. I hate when they go in the air.
I fear if there are any germs in my body.
I fear when I walk by myself.
I fear when ghosts chase me.
I fear failure, ’cause I don’t like losing/going down in volleyball or my meets when I am
at cross country/track.
I fear the smell of smoke. I know someone is in danger.
I fear the dark. It brings chills down my spine by the quietness in the room.
I fear that the Bears won’t make the Superbowl, ’til a while.
I fear not passing a test, knowing that high schools look at your seventh grade grades.
I fear going to the alley.
I fear flying high after I saw Final Destination the movie.
I fear the agony of defeat, when you worked so hard to lose it all.
I fear airplanes because you never know if you can crash or something.
I fear when I’m alone in the dark, when I watch scary movies.
I fear blindness. You lose one eye then the other, then you’re blind.
I fear heights; it feels like standing 100 feet way up in the sky.
I fear the number 12.
I fear walking in the night in my street.
I fear disappointing the people who care about me by not making the right decisions in
life.
I fear my parents dying and staying alone.
I fear my dark basement while doing the laundry.
I fear images that just pop into my head in an instant.
I fear the fear.

Room 210--Fear Poem

2007-10-25T17:33:00.000-05:00

Here's the fear poem from Ms. Harris' 7th grade class in room 210. This one came a little later in my process, and for this one I made the decision to cut "I fear" from each line, and just leave the rest of the line to stand alone. The students liked the result, and so did I, if only just for the sake of variety. I found that compiling these poems from the students' contributions was pretty time-consuming, much more than I anticipated, but well worth the effort.

###

I fear—
Rachel Javellana & Room 210, Ms. Harris’ 7th grade class, Lee School

Not passing 7th grade because I haven’t been doing good.
Getting lost in the woods, losing my life.
Losing a friend. I love all my friends.
That a blind guy might beat me to death with his little stick thing.
Knowing that one day I’m going to grow up and let the good times roll.
The zodiac may come and kill my family.
That what Al Gore is talking about might be true.
Dark water because I think I will drown in it and no one will find me.
The thought of never coming back to see my mom again.
My life when it’s in danger.
The darkness, to know there’s no light but only fear.
Myself in a small box.
Dark places where there is no light coming in.
Small things touching me from head to toes.
Hearing loud noises at night thinking someone will break in.
Dying.
That one day my family won’t wake up and will be dead.
My attic in the dark.
My family leaving me behind once more like they did some time ago.
Monsters in haunted houses that hold weapons.
The dolls in my room watching me.
Clowns—they are scary.
People who don’t know me and hate me for who they think I am.
Getting shot when I’m at my cousin’s crib.
People with dark masks because I don’t know where they have been.
Getting jumped.
That my heart’s gonna get stolen and the thief is never gonna wanna give it back.
Some girl who walks up to me and swears for no reason.
Falling off a plane when it turns.
Losing the one person who knows me best.
Child molesters.
Saying the alphabet.
Big dogs because they can kill me.
People that I love may go away.
Falling off the tall ramp that mocks me for not having the ability to drop in.
The world will end in less than 15 years.
Getting hit by my brother when I’m not looking.
The dark gloomy room in the basement where no one bothers to go.
The fact that death can be right around the corner everywhere you go.
The big dog because I got chased by a big dog before.
Animals as they get wild and crazy.
My shadows.
Paper.
Airplanes when they are starting to move.
Losing my leg.
The hobos that roam the streets yelling, “Tell Christina Garcia to leave me alone!”
and pee when they’re walking.
That thing on that house.
That Satan comes and burns us.
My life for being so tough.
The fact of being the same as the others.
Puppets; I don’t like how they look at you with their big ol’ eyes.
That George Bush might die of retardedness.
Death.
My dad dying ’cause I love him.
Having to lose the thing that I love and care for.
The world’s end.
My mind when I don’t know the answer.
Flunking.
Falling alone when no one’s around.
People who lie and lie and can’t be trusted.
Looking into a mirror late at night thinking someone will appear.
Dumb people. They are so scary for what they do. WE SHOULD BE CAREFUL
OF THEM.
Losing my dog, losing my mom.
The sound of somebody screaming.
Markers that are dried out.
Losing my parents, my grandma or grandpa dying.
Being alone because I think there is someone watching me.
Dying—I don’t know how I am going to die.
Not getting an Ipod for my birthday.
But mostly my death, or my family members’ deaths!
The exorcist. She is ugly and scary.
Spiders. Just to look at them makes me silent.
The thought of death and how close it might be to me.
The end of the world.
My washer and dryer when they come alive.
My house because one person died in the living room.
My death because I hate the feeling of someone crying and I hate the sound of crying.
My own spirit.

Rm. 209--Fear

2007-10-25T17:20:00.000-05:00

Here is another fear poem from Mr. Czoski's 7th grade class in room 209. When I brought in the final product, typed and copied, we read it as a group, each person reading one fear. The students said that it was interesting to read some fears that might be secret or unshared, "how other kids might be outside of school," and that it "felt good" to read about fears that they might have also, because "then you don't feel so alone."

###

Seventy-five
Rachel Javellana and Rm. 209, Mr. Czoski’s 7th grade class

I fear the height of tall buildings, because of 9/11.
I fear not knowing when death will come.
I fear big dogs (wolves, coyotes) trying to eat me.
I fear my parents arguing and listening to all their anger come out.
I fear being on a tall building.
I fear electric shocks, frayed wires and bad outlets.
I fear clowns.
I fear being paralyzed because I don’t want to be helpless.
I fear the rooms in the hall when it is dark, because something will pop out.
I fear snakes with poisonous venom.
I fear my sister’s dolls with their cold eyes just staring at you.
I fear noises that you hear when nobody’s home.
I fear shadows.
I fear my parents being taken by immigration.
Fear to me is dying but I don’t fear when it will come.
I fear my parents, when I do something wrong.
I fear driving across bridges because it might collapse while I drive on it.
I fear dying with no past.
I fear acid.
I fear falling off the beam in my gymnastics competition.
I fear my sister.
I fear the clothes in my closet because they look like a person in the dark.
Fear to me is growing up to be murdered.
I also fear when my dog tries to attack me and bite me.
I fear attics or basements, and because there are a lot of things that move there.
I fear the sight of heights.
I fear planes crashing down.
I fear being left alone.
I fear airplanes like the incident on 9/11.
I fear losing a friend who’s been with me through a lot.
I fear getting shot out in my streets.
I fear not getting into a good high school.
I fear that Mr. Espinoza doesn’t R.I.P.
I fear the hot fire.
I fear red snakes.
I fear ending up with no future.
I fear being in a plane because I think it might blow up with me in.
I fear when my sister fights with my brother.
I fear dolls with green eyes.
Getting in an accident.
Clowns they just scare me.
I fear the dead, because it looks like they’re going to come out of their grave and get us.
I fear being alone with nobody to take care of me.
I fear Wing Lee.
I fear one day when I least expect it, I will get killed.
I fear that I won’t graduate from high school.
I fear the angry voice that comes out of my teacher.
I fear oceans that I might sink in.
Getting bit by spiders.
I fear the deep seas with many living creatures.
I fear hobos when they ask, Can I have a dollar?
I fear sad clowns.
I fear people who hurt animals for selfish desires.
I fear coming back from summer break to hard stares.
I fear being lost in the darkness with no one around to tell me where I’m going.
I fear the way I will die.
Strangers trying to kill me or kidnap me.
I fear dying because after you die, what’s gonna happen?
I fear a sharp needle sucking out blood.
I fear drowning in high waters.
I fear that Mr. Espinoza might not like our actions.
I fear getting an F on a test.
My mini door in my closet.
I fear the word.
I fear the sound of someone screaming.
I fear my step-brother when he comes to my house.
I fear being suffocated by the one I care for.
I fear getting shot because you could die.
I fear death coming so soon.
I fear people I don’t know who will hurt me.
Fear to me is a disease I know I will go through to the pain and it’s supposed to help me.
I fear the door that squeaks and creaks like a broken rocking chair.
I fear fingers pointing at me.
I fear being in the hands of God.

I just fear.

Portrait Poems--6th graders

2007-10-25T16:16:00.000-05:00

In my one 6th grade classroom at Lee--Mrs. Hernandez' class in room 109--I presented "Abuelito Who" by Sandra Cisneros, from her book My Wicked Wicked Ways. We talked about the voice and narrative of the poem, and had an easy entree into metaphor discussing how the speaker compares her abuelito to, or associates him with, certain objects. I asked them to write a poem that "paints a picture" of someone with whom they are close, using similar methods to Cisneros': What they DO (or LIKE TO DO), what they SAY or HAVE SAID (call you, advice, etc.), and several objects that REMIND YOU OF THEM (or that you ASSOCIATE WITH THEM).

###

My Dad
Stephanie M.

My dad
My dad is like a saw.
who snores like a lion roaring
who calls me free
who is like an elf
who loves to laugh
is crazy for his family.
He is help when you
need it
who loves to play.
He is like a toll man
workin' all day.
My dad my wonderful
dad.

My Grandma
Daisy A.

My grandma who cooks with the
recipe books.
She tells me I'm a twinkle star
At night she calls me the moon
My grandma is a chocolate chip cookie
who lives in the bakery all day
She's the heart who gives me all
of her love

Grandpa
Christian H.

Grandpa who is tools and
medicine. Who is dogs
and work. Who says
to me buddy. Who works
like the tools of a worker. Whose head is
full of lice. Grandpa
who is like tools.

P.S.--This is my fear (Room 203, 8th grade)

2007-10-23T23:38:00.000-05:00

I was amazed by the sheer volume of clown fears in this one. They crop up in nearly every class so far, but this outdoes them all in clown terror.

I was impressed by how several of the students found representative images for their fears ("the grade F on the paper in front of me," "mascara on her face," the idea of rage "yelling out," and many others...)

This version is from Mr. Balcazar's 8th grade class in room 203.

###

P.S. This is my fear
Room 203, Mr. Balcazar's 8th grade class at Lee School and Rachel Javellana

I fear losing the ones I love that are close to me.
I fear the dark in the basement, hearing a voice.
I fear going into the dark by myself when I’m all alone. You’ll never know when you might run into something unexpectable.
I fear the darkness.
I fear the dark. It’s like a hole in the world.
I fear the rage inside me when it yells out.
I fear my mom when she has her mascara on her face
I fear the grade F on the paper in front of me.
I fear being stranded in the middle of nowhere.
I fear scary movies.
I fear falling in love with the wrong person, because they’ll just let you fall.
I fear that my grandpa always comes out with a baseball bat.
I fear the dark.
I fear dying.
I fear the white painted face of the big red nose along with the freakishly worn costume by the
hideous clowns.
I fear poisonous snakes.
I fear the painted face that tries to make you laugh but instead cry and run.
I fear spiders.
I fear not waking up the next day to see people I care for.
I fear snakes.
I fear dolls.
I fear my beloved Mickey Mouse finding someone else.
I fear clowns.
I fear the smile in people’s faces which may not even be true.
I fear that I might lose someone I really love.
I fear the day the world will fall apart and say goodbye to all its wonders.
I fear heights.
I fear heights when I’m on top of a building and feel like I’m about to fall.
I fear that I might get shot.
I fear clowns who tried to make you laugh but instead cry.
I fear clowns with their huge smiles even when they are sad, always laughing for no reason.
I fear mimicks, being in a room with mimicks everywhere. Thinking they might torture me to death.
I fear the spider.
I fear the man with a gun in his hands.
I fear the red nose that is near the creepy smile.
I fear dying and not knowing what life is about.
I fear heights.
I fear shadows.
I fear my life becoming short from being diagnosed with a disease.
I fear not knowing what my future holds in store for me.
I fear dying.
I fear the monsters.
I fear waking up in the middle of the night.
I fear small places.
I fear a scary movie because it may happen in my dream.
I fear clowns.
I fear being apart from those I love.
I fear getting jumped.
I fear I will die.
I fear spiders, eight legs, and so scary-looking.
I fear the person I might become or that I am.
I fear the day my parents will leave us and not come back.
I fear ghosts lurking in my house watching my every move.
I fear clowns. They frighten me, thinking deep inside of them they want to kill me.
I fear death.
I fear getting shot.
I fear the number 10.
I fear that somebody is going to die, someone in my family.
I fear heights that take you up and you get butterflies in your stomach.
One thing I will never fear is Death. I have encountered death numerous times. If I die then I die. My time is up and it’s Game Over for me.
I fear that I will die.
I fear many scary things, like the clown “It.”
I fear death.
I fear clowns.
I fear clowns.
I fear snakes.
I fear getting raped. I have heard of a lot of girls being raped.
I fear heights.
I fear losing my best friend.

This is my fear.
P.S. I fear getting a shot or taking out blood. It’s scary.

I Fear What I Fear: 8th grade, Rm. 204

2007-10-23T22:52:00.000-05:00

These cento poems just keep opening up new worlds to me. As I cut up the students' anonymous submissions to make the lines, I'm finding it hard to know what to do with the strips afterwards. I've been taking pictures of them. This piece has a lot of interesting approaches to common topics like death, darkness, and family. I admire how the students came at their lines with some incredibly inventive language. And one student, perhaps not on purpose, gave us our ending. Enjoy. This is from Mrs. Fenton's 8th grade class in Room 204.

###

I Fear What I Fear
Room 204, Mrs. Fenton's 8th grade class at Lee School and Rachel Javellana

I am scared of people that stare at me and do not look away.
I fear the other world of the death.
I fear homeless people.
I fear death and the fact of not living.
I fear dying because I want to see my family grow.
I fear being alone.
I fear death coming into my family.
I fear the darkness in the street when I’m walking alone.
I fear the bad, haunting and tripping me.
I fear the fact of letting my anger GO and hurting others.
I fear that my life is just made up because people think that I am just a show-off.
I fear cats because they like scaring me.
I fear monsters in my closet.
I fear the darkness of my attic when it is dark outside.
I fear the other side of the dark.
I fear not being good in school.
I fear losing someone I love. Someone I care about.
I fear dark woods in the dark.
I fear her having to go back.
I fear behaving bad with my mom and dad.
I fear lightning when it’s flashing in the sky.
I fear the darkness without her being there.
I fear the big ugly monsters under my bed.
I fear not getting into the high school.
I fear me not living up to my dream and proving to everyone that I can be something. Don’t say I can’t be nothing.
I am scared to look at myself in the mirror in the dark.
I fear what’s going to happen in the future.
I am afraid to die and feel lonely when I die.
I fear my dog howling at the moon.
I fear spiders walking around the ugly body.
I fear getting shot because of violence.
I fear getting shot to my dome.
I fear dying in my sleep.
I fear seeing the person I love with someone else.
I fear the lonely scary dark.
I fear not living.
I fear homework on weekends.
I fear her missing major events in my life.
I fear the darkness.
I fear my mouth, what it says.
I fear clowns with their scary face.
I fear the sharp needles that hold pain.
I fear not making it to the majors.
I fear losing my PS2.
I fear crazy cats. I think they would bite my finger out of my hand.
I fear death because of how criminals are always killing people.
I fear bugs, those who have dozens of legs and sting.
I fear a stranger who comes into my house. When I’m alone.
I fear bad grades. The ones lower than seventy percent.
I fear growing up without my parents because they get killed or die when I’m still a young age.
I fear big vicious dogs.
I fear getting a deadly disease.
I fear quizzes because I may fail.
I fear scared cats.
I fear me getting killed at a young age.
I fear dying.
I fear not being able to play baseball.
I fear her having to go back for a long time.
I fear spiders, that they will crawl on me and try to eat me.
I fear nasty little bugs crawling everywhere.
I fear a crazy man.
I fear old homes with no life, dark.
I fear wasps and bees because they will sting me.
I fear that I will not make it to be a rapper because I don’t know how to rhyme.
I fear cats that don’t know me.
I the dark because I can’t see so I don’t know if something might jump out.
I fear the fact that my parents are sick.
I fear clowns; scary, ugly, loud clowns.
I fear little kids when I have to babysit.
I fear spiders; ugly, big spiders. They crawl on people.
I fear dying.
I fear seeing spiders.
I fear monsters.
I fear my dad coming home drunk.
I fear messing up my right arm.
I fear when I am walking in the street alone in the dark.
I fear pitch black places.
I fear doing drugs in the future.
I fear my mind, who may think wrong sometimes.
I fear what I fear.
I fear nothing ’cause I’m scared of nothing.
I fear nothing.
I fear nothing.

This is What I Fear, Rm. 202, 8th grade

2007-10-23T12:38:00.000-05:00

I brought in an excerpt of "82 Reasons Not to Get Out of Bed," by Denise Duhamel and her Florida International University M.F.A. students. It is a collaborative piece, the result of the entire class and the teacher writing down several fears, then one student compiling them into a poem and titling it. This method of compiling assorted lines or parts to make a poem is often called a cento.

For my 7th and 8th grade classes, I asked them to write down 3 fears on a blank paper--no names--emphasizing that they should be particular and concrete, zooming in on the fear. I compiled them into collaborative pieces, literally cutting up the sheets of paper and drawing out slips randomly one by one, typing the poem as I went (although I was a little more intentional with endings).

More fear centos to come! Believe me, you can't wait. I know I can't.

###

This is What I Fear
Rachel Javellana and Room 202, Ms. Catinella’s 8th grade class, Lee School

I fear drowning when I can swim but can’t come back up to get air.
I fear being without my family. I would not know what to do without them.
I fear heights that are taller than the sky.
I fear getting Fs in school.
I fear the dark, whose guilty hand tries to pull me in.
I fear clowns.
I fear the world ending.
I fear guns shooting outside.
I fear my world may one day come crashing down.
I fear time: not having any to finish the important things in life.
I fear being hopeless with no sense in living.
I fear I will get shot and die.
I fear the movies when you don’t know what else is going to happen.
I fear that one day I won’t come home; I will be taken away from my family.
I fear people lying on the floor, pale and not breathing.
I fear that in the future I will be nothing or nobody.
I fear never succeeding in anything, not going anywhere in life.
I fear getting sick and not being able to get better.
I am afraid of the time to run away from me.
I fear people dying.
I fear my dad’s huge hand striking my face down.
I fear being outside alone at night.
I fear guns.
I fear the men in the streets in the night.
I fear getting shot because I wear the wrong colors in the wrong ’hoods.
I am afraid of what can happen 50 years from now.
I fear death knocking at the door.
I fear divorces.
I fear dying early.
I am afraid of not getting through the gates, and being sent down.
I fear feeling lonely.
I fear strangers.
I fear losing my dad over something that isn’t even worth it.
I fear the height when you go on a rollercoaster, seeing all the things beneath you.
I fear when people start screaming and fighting.
I fear the room when it’s dark.
I fear funerals.
I fear Fridays the 13th for bad luck.
I fear surgery.
I fear spiders, big and small.
I fear getting into a gang shooting.
I fear small rooms; I fear being in one by myself.
I fear flying squirrels.
I fear losing my mom over something stupid.
I fear the planes that go up in the sky.
I fear Ms. Catinella.
I fear dark alleys.
I fear the darkness of an empty room.
I fear being in small places because I feel like I’m going to pass out.
I fear a lot of homework.
I fear dying when it’s my turn.
I fear the reaper taking my life away.
I fear the world will end and we won’t have enough time, and no way to stop it from
ending.
I fear guns taking a life away.
I am afraid of not seeing the light anymore and going away from my family.
I fear getting into trouble.
I fear heights over eight feet.
I fear height.
I fear people fighting outside.
I fear falling down a building.
I fear talking about my baby.
I fear the world is going to end at any time.
I fear breaking my leg.
I fear living on the streets as a bum.
I fear gangs.
I fear large quantities of water like lakes.
I fear being in danger.
I fear forgetting my favorite people when I go off with my future career.
I fear heights.
I fear dying young.
I fear being kidnapped.
I fear dying too young.
I fear bees.

That is what I fear.

Where I'm From--8th graders

2007-10-16T15:55:00.000-05:00

During this session, we read Willie Perdomo's "Where I'm From," from his book Where a Nickel Costs a Dime. We discussed the tools that Perdomo used to portray a picture of his neighborhood, and I asked them to write their own poems about home and neighborhood, making sure to include images from all five senses.

###

Mr. Stalla, Rm. 201, 8th grade

West Lawn
Raul G.

Where I’m from street smarts can
be more valuable than book smarts.
I see the scared faces of the troubled teens
afraid to walk down the block. I see
the sneaky dope and drug dealers next
to where the kids play. I see them
smile and laugh as I walk by. Reminds
of when I was a little kid, my only job
was to have fun.

The sun goes down, forks go up
and dig into the delicious meal before
me. The smell of handmade tortillas
on the stove.

56 n Whipple
65 n Kilpatrick
Antonio G.

see dirty lawns
broken-down cars in the yards gangbangers
driving in their customs. I feel scared
because I remember hearing gunshots
at night.

I see nice houses
and trimmed hedges. I see
gangbangers passing in their customs still
I feel nervous every time
I walk out the door.

Untitled
Carina A.

Where I’m from Mexico stays in our
hearts like a newborn memory.
I feel cared for and scared for the
police that don’t sleep.
Hear the ambulance wake you up at night.
Smell the fresh coffee in the morning
and hear the groans of the people who
have to give up their day.

###

Ms. Catinella, Rm. 202, 8th grade

Everyone Asks Me (excerpt)
Alejandra S.

Everybody asks me where I’m from.
Who I am?
What am I? What’s my race?
Well, I’m everywhere, park, school.
I always hear fights, see fights.
I’m not American. I’m mixed. People
make fun of that, calling names.
I love my home, but that’s not where
I belong. I would rather be where
many trees are. Where it’s always fall.
My life only has one description: books, or
a book without an end.
The smell of fresh air in front of my house.
I always hear the word gang, everywhere
I go I hear that word.
I always see people making out, with different
ages, and I think it’s disgusting. I always see
pregnant girls my age.
I’m a Latina, that’s all I tell people.
I have many cultures and I’m not in only
one place...

Come and Go
Edith A.

I like the noise of the
kids playing happy outside,
the birds singing.
I like when the sun comes
out and the moon goes in.
I look at the sun and I
feel peace, I see the
moon and it’s time to go
to sleep.
I leave the country and then
I come back.
I like the smell in the
morning of bread and hot
coffee, people have changed
from right to wrong,
peace to noise. Families
to divorce. I come and go
out the country, I come
and go.

###

Mr. Balcazar, Rm. 203, 8th grade

My Life
Jocelin J.

Where I’m from, I see everyone outside
driving, working, playing or fighting, hearing
the laughter of children, the crying of
a mother when losing a special person.

When I try to tell someone where
I’m from, I remember a lot, that I’m
scared to say and might think something
different. I feel my world is not
dangerous, but not safe. My feelings may
get hurt by people ’cause of my personality
but I’m used to it.

When I taste my mom’s
tamales, or arroz con leche, or smell
the bakeries in my world, it makes it
seem so sweet. When it’s not,
people get judged deeply. My world is
cool for me. Do you like my world?
Do you think it’s safe?

Chicago
Samantha G.

Tall building blocking the sun.
Honking horns all over town.
The swishing waves hitting
the sand. The wind that blows
the leaves away.

Where I go!
Andrea S.

Where I go, the ghetto of 77 and
Homan, where all you hear is
music and people talking, from
where you can smell the cooking
of fish in the corner restaurant.
Where I go, the ghetto, where all
you see is graffiti and gangs.
Where you can taste the pancakes
that my aunt makes every day. Where
I go it feels just like home, the
feel of the breeze and the autumn
leaves.

###

Ms. Fenton, Rm. 204, 8th grade

Untitled
Guadalupe A.

Where I am from it is called
the windy city. The sound
of laughter at children’s play.
The smell of arroz con leche
in the kitchen. The sound of
victory in a home run. Silence
of my neighborhood at night.

Where I am from there
is peace. Only noisy when
neighbors nearby playing their
rock band. The variety of
different cultures. As my dad
comes from a hard day from work.
You can see the artificial lights
in the sky.

Where I am from there
are planes flying over my house.
The cats creep silently back
and forth from the alley.

My ’Hood
Richard S.

Where my ’hood’s from is hot and
the smell of flowers is everywhere. I seem my
grandmother watering her flowers and my uncle
feeding the bird and my puppy run, I hear my
friends screaming Hike while they play football
on the street. I taste the eggs and beans
my grandmother cooks. Feel the warmness on my
feet from heat of the sun and the 24s on
my cousin’s truck and the sound of rap music
coming from his giant speakers. That’s my ’hood.

Mexico
Frank M.

Where I am from
I like the nice smell
of burning wood. Where
I am from you see poor
all over the place, kids
without shoes, dogs all over
the place. Where I am from
the taste of tamales is the
best taste you can taste
with a cup of Haredo. Where I am
from there are gangs, violence,
and good candy.

Lee 8th graders--"Nobody Knows..."

2007-10-09T15:42:00.000-05:00

Today we read poem III from The Book of Questions by Pablo Neruda. We discussed the idea of objects having a life and secrets of their own, and I asked them to write their own "secret" poems, using the starter "Nobody knows..." imagining that everyday inanimate objects have secrets that only they know.

###

Mr. Stalla, Rm. 201, 8th grade

Sidewalk
Raul G.

Nobody knows the sidewalk has a
mind of its own. It moves to make
you trip and fall. When it’s happy, it
cracks a smile.

Nobody Knows
Carina A.

Nobody knows that clocks
stop ticking at night.

Nobody knows the sun dies
every night.

Nobody knows that a
heart beats inside a tree.

Nobody knows that the
moon talks.

Nobody Knows
Bianca P.

Nobody knows that the
books get so happy when
you open them.

Nobody knows that the
door hurts when you close it.

###

Mr. Balcazar, Rm. 203, 8th grade

Nobody Knows
Stephanie C.

Nobody knows that
plants talk to people
and tell them their secrets.

Nobody knows that
objects move when
everybody is sleeping.

Nobody knows that
animals have their own
treasure.

Nobody Knows
Rosalia Alvarez

Nobody knows that the sun is
still showing in the middle of
the night.

Nobody knows that a teacher
without his class is actually
happy.

Nobody Knows
Christian E.

Nobody knows that the
rose and the daisy have a crush on
each other. The vase wants to hook
them up, but the banana says
that she will break his heart.

###

Ms. Fenton, Rm. 204, 8th grade

Nobody Knows
Karina S.

Nobody knows that the floor is in pain when we leave.

Nobody knows that the tree called your name
to appreciate the nature.

Nobody knows that the lunch ticket is just
staring at us.

Nobody knows that the classroom is scared
in the night.

Nobody Knows
Guadalupe A.

Nobody knows that the
pencils move by themselves and
do homework.

The world beyond a tiny
box which reveals a whole new
world.

Nobody knows where
nature began.

The mystery a book has
about life’s secrets.

Nobody Knows
Monica H.

Nobody knows the secret
of the flower: it grows when you are
staring at it, but you don’t notice it.

Nobody knows that at night
my house comes to life and messes
up my grass; that is the real
reason my grass looks bad.

Nobody knows that there
is a code in the American flag
that opens something somewhere
but you’ll never know.

Nobody knows that with
all this violence in the world
to me it is peace.