Yo soy un hombre sincero...

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.


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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!