Poetry Helps

What poems do you still remember? What lines speak to the secret spaces in your heart? When I think about my answers to those questions, my mind wanders to the poets I Iove. Poets who write for children. Poets who write for adults. Poets who write for nature or the world or who write of grace and the color of light coming in a winter window. When I think about what poems I still remember, I think about what the poems connect me to in terms of feeling or mood or moment that they explore.

Poetry speaks.

It's tough to choose a favorite, but it's easy to choose a poem to share. I learned this week that my Dad had a favorite poem, "Little Boy Blue" by Eugene Field. Mom said he wanted it read at his memorial reception. She thinks he liked it because he memorized it in grade school . Through his adult life it was something he could recall and recite. I will bring it printed this afternoon, but I am not the one to read this poem for him.

Sometimes we use poetry to remember our best or most innocent selves. Perhaps that what Dad did with "Little Boy Blue." My feelings today, about living in a world without him are layered and nuanced. I have not found a poem that speaks to all of the fathers I had in the one man who raised and loved me, but I've found him in some poets-- Gregory Orr or  Sharon Olds and Chris Forhan or Dylan Thomas. There is such complexity in fatherhood and fathers and feelings. Still, what love I have for mine.

Poetry strengthens.

Sometimes we use poetry to strengthen ourselves. I did that with "Invictus" by William Henley when I struggled as a teenager. That poem gave me strength to see the hard times through. The Unibomber and my own faith changed that poem for me because I eventually grew up and  realized, "I [really] am not the master of my fate" or "the captain of my soul." Thank God for that! And I did that with "Tula [Books are door shaped]" by Margarita Engle too--that  poem reminds my teacher self about the importance of nurturing readers and thinkers and not letting the twin monsters of testing and grades swallow children whole.

Poetry informs.

Sometimes we use poetry to show us what is happening in the world. Martin Espada's "Letter to My Father" does that brilliantly. His images make me want to cheer on his father, back from the grave to snatch those paper towels out of a man's hand. Sara Holbrook and Michael Salinger are my go-to for teaching kids how to use poetry to see the world.

Poetry gives.

Sometimes poetry is a gift to give.  I send a poem to a friend as a pick me up like a pressed flower made of words.  A friend of mine used to give people poems on their birthdays. She and her teaching partner would gift their students with special birthday poems (illustrated, printed on nice paper). They would read the poems to the birthday student in class. Nancy said it got to the point that if a student had to be absent on the day he or she knew they'd be getting the birthday poem, the student's parents would often call or email to insure that the birthday poem wouldn't be missed. I love everything about that community ritual and I don't even know what it sounds like. But it must be yellow and gold and clear and blue, like perfect skies on a crisp day--fresh with innocence and love.

Poem in Your Pocket day is April 26th this year. I think I will ask my students how they would like to celebrate it. We can certainly make and print poems to share with one another. Perhaps they'd like to do more though--share poems with our staff or their other teachers? Perhaps they'd like to connect with another class. Would you?

Many thanks to the writing team at Two Writing Teachers for

hosting the annual Slice of Life Story Challenge!