Let's be poets together

TORDA'S SPRING 2023 TEACHING SITE

Let's be poets together

3/23/2021

And now a word from everyone's favorite giant and many people's beloved poet, Fezzick. . .

WHAT TO DO: One of the ways we help our students be writers and readers is to ask them to write the kinds of texts we are asking them to read. Writing fiction and poetry together can both be a little scary and a little fun. Hopefully this will be both for you.

Compose a quick poem. It doesn't have to rhyme--though it can. It can be a haiku or a limerick or a sonnet. But write a poem based on some of the work we are going to do in class (prompts). Don't be shy. We are all in this together.

16 Comments

Ashley Munoz

3/23/2021 04:24:24 pm

I hope this reads the way it should. I wrote a limerick about Louise Rosenblatt.

Once there was Louise Rosenblatt
Who thought Lit. was sizably flat.
She did some queries
and made a theory
And said, now there's much more to that!

Brittany Ann Oppenheimer

3/29/2021 11:31:00 am

Endless ocean in the sky
Has no meaning to my eyes.
No worlds no ordinary man can reach.
No words through lies that adults may teach.

Steer me one way.
Steer me another.
No flightless fray.
No tropic thunder.
I keep reaching for those heights.
Those sweet, sweet dreams.
It's a hopeless flight.
One filled with thrashing lights and endless beams.

Forget me then.
Forget me now.
Let me be who I was meant to be.
Let me push through your words.
Like a child storming through a flock of seagulls.
Where I let the ocean take me.
Deeper and deeper into the abyss.
Where no normal whale can reach.
No octopi nor giant squid.
Let the pressure consume me.
Until the day someone reaches out.
Pulling me back into the reality to wince I came.

For now, normalcy is pleasant.
Until the day they forget you.
Then I must decide whether I shall take the flames, ocean or sky.
Consume me with their unprecedented power.
Hoping I shall be reborn a new.
Trapped inside my own invisible egg.
Just hoping that maybe, just maybe, I will hatch and finally be looked at as a normal, everyday girl.

To my disappointment.
To my utter dismay.
Look at me, look at me.
Recognize me.
Acknowledge me.
If you want to.
If you desire.
On this frightful, misguided, sunshiny day.

Lauren Grisolia

3/30/2021 06:48:47 am

My mind wanders back and forth,
thoughts race around like they're
never slowing down.
When will it end?
This fear that's all around me.
It takes over my brain until no hope
is in sight.
But what if I break through my negativity?
What if I ignore the thoughts until I
decide to see the light at the end of the tunnel?
Break the barriers of my anxiety,
and keep moving forward.

Allie Gallahue

11/12/2022 10:06:47 am

Hi Lauren!
This poem is really inspiring. I relate to the feeling of being trapped in a loop of anxiety. I really love how it took a positive turn and you talked about breaking through the anxiety and being more than the anxiety. I like your message about not letting anxiety hold you back and how you want to move forward. Great work!

Orlaith Connolly

3/30/2021 05:03:16 pm

Writing off the top of my head
It get hard and I start to dread.
With coffee they say
Writers block goes away!
But I'd rather just go to bed.

Jenivieve D'Andrea

11/14/2022 10:19:44 am

Hey there Orlaith,

I love your creative spin on this very creative discussion post assignment. You quite literally wrote a poem about having to write a poem---very "meta" of you.

This poem is so relatable despite its brevity and simplicity. As English majors this poem is like preaching to the choir!

Great job.

Demi Riendeau

4/5/2021 11:43:22 am

No boring theory
will help kids not be weary
mirrors and windows.

I hope this makes sense. I decided to write a haiku. One of the most valuable phrases I have acquired in college is windows and mirrors. windows for students to see other lives, mirrors, for students to see their own lives. I like that this connected to a lot of the theory that we discussed as students have their own interaction with the text due to these windows and mirrors. I wrote in a way to reject theory in a way because I often see students practicing theory (with well structured lesson plans) without even trying to or being cognizant of it. Anyway, I have rambled enough, this is my Haiku.

Maria Pestilli

4/8/2021 12:49:33 pm

A closed lid,
A dark box,
Wings that will never take flight,
A mind stuck in its ways.
One will never know the true joy of reading
Until they let go of their rigidity
Open the lid,
Turn on the light,
Spread out your wings and fly,
Open your mind to the world around you
Read the world.

I hope this makes sense? I am trying to write about how students get tapped in a box when it comes to reading. They are not given the chance to enjoy reading and are forced to see stories only one way. I hope that when I become a teacher my students will allow themselves to use their life experiences to interpret a story and I hope I give them the agility to enjoy reading.

Grace Donnelly

4/8/2021 05:34:51 pm

an ode - Grace Donnelly

I had too much hairspray in my hair tonight
and when I hit the shower it smelled just like
coming home, stage makeup on,
mic tape residue not quite gone

clasping hands to audience cheers,
holding back laughter, holding back tears
in front of a set constructed at midnight
memorization and monologues finally just right

three months back, auditions tense
accents, characters, and plot nonsense,
“Thank you all for auditioning, now scroll below”
the cast list a triumph or crushing blow.

Cheat out, project!
cross the stage and intersect,
with your castmates, not your friends,
save the laughter till rehearsal’s end.

Learn pin curls and eyeliner, two weeks to go
till our hometown sees the show
drag a friend out to the lobby or hall
run lines, rehearse, step-step-ball

change, get onstage, don’t lose your mic pack,
Check the bathroom, pre-show panic attacks
Stage manager becomes a frantic, silent mime
Move the set, cover lines, this is all going fine

intermission, places in five, auditorium’s alive
green room, costume change, set the prop knives,
behind the velvet curtain, sneak a look, see who’s here,
Entr'acte, tableau, and they give us a cheer.

Keenly I remember the shining eyes,
After the show, girls and guys,
Meeting up at Red Robin or the fest dance floor,
the question, breathless:
when can we act more?

I wrote this a few nights ago because I was missing my theater friends and rueing all that COVID has taken from us, so I tried to capture the joyfully chaotic experience that drama is, onstage and off.

Allie Gallahue

11/12/2022 10:01:44 am

When will she see her own beauty?
She needs it to free herself from her own cruelty.
She is trapped in a terrible loop of pain,
with no idea about how to remain sane.
She’s struggling and trying to keep her head above water;
she hopes that she doesn’t pass these feelings off to her future daughter.
But society places these expectations on us,
And expects nobody to fuss.
Alas, nobody is free from this horror.
She needs to learn to love herself, not find love in someone who adores her.

Allison Raposo

11/15/2022 04:17:42 pm

Allie,
I think the message behind the poem is very important because it shows a different type of love. This love is called self love which is the most important kind. It also shows the type of love that society diminishes from all women, and I think that you portrayed it perfectly.

Jenivieve D'Andrea

11/14/2022 10:17:32 am

This a poem I have written in my journal from October 8, 2017.

Love in Jars

This love is a rose concealed inside a jar. Our thorns scatter our sleek stem, but yet we are somehow still delicate to the touch. The petaled red top is enviously brilliant. Everyone dreams of just getting a single petal.

Their colors cannot compare to the hues of red we radiate. The jar conceals so much, though it's transparent. Red may be desired, but strangely we wish these petals would turn white, that these thorns would stop sticking to our structure, that this jar would turn fully opaque.

Our water drains, and the enviously red petals fade to brown. When anger becomes consistent how can you get up from being thrown around?

These thorns slice deeper not for blood, but for this rose petaled bleeding love.

𝘚𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘧𝘳𝘶𝘪𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵; 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘳𝘰𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘦 𝘱𝘶𝘣𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘥.

^^^^^^^I end all my poetry with this line instead of signing my name--its my melodramatic way of writing creative poetry for the sole purpose of enjoyment.

Chloe Tavernier

11/15/2022 09:08:48 am

A new friend, yet as if from times of yore
How I wish our story could have begun there
Imagine all the nights of tale-telling, their mystery enthralling
Stars shine upon our meeting, the sky embellished with pearls twinkling
From the joys of union we are awakening, our dreams inlaid with moonlit dews shimmering

Allison Raposo

11/15/2022 04:01:03 pm

Summer
I smell the morning dew
as I walk closely behind gran.
"Water the white flowers", she says in
a calm voice.
Calmness.
Everything about this day is calm.

Chloe Tavernier

11/16/2022 08:05:06 am

Chloe Tavernier

11/16/2022 08:05:53 am

Sorry! Definitely did not mean to post my poem twice

Let's be poets together

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