May 15, 2009

RAP: Coming Home to Voice

L.L. here with Random Acts of Poetry. “The sun is shining. The trees are pretty. Flowers are nice.” Are we bored yet? One day, teacher Myra Cohn Livingston realized that none of her students wanted to finish their poems—poems that started like this and were, frankly, not very interesting.

It occurred to Livingston that she needed to teach about “voice.” So she began by discussing lyric poetry, which uses the poet’s “I” to express personal feelings.

“I see the sun shining. I like pretty trees. I pick a nice flower and it makes me smile.” Still not Pulitzer material, but now we’ve got something…a character, a sense of intention, a bit of emotion.

Adding a little drama, the poet can use “apostrophe” and talk to objects or creatures that can’t answer: “Sun, I see you shining, tickling trees, teasing buttercups.” With a just a little more voice in the mix, we’ve increased interest again. Another simple technique is to use “mask”, which entails taking on the voice of something or someone. My 9-year-old tried it out by speaking as a king…

Sonia’s King

A ring? Just
sing for me the
king. All that
nonsense about
gifts. Just sing for me
the king. A royal carriage
to an airport... deluxe
vacation; I have to
run my kingdom.
Just sing for me
the king.

For next week’s poetry prompt, you might consider fiddling with voice. Most of us gravitate towards lyric poetry (this week’s featured poem is a lyric poem), so maybe add the next level of “apostrophe” or “mask”. Talk to the moon, complain to the river, beg the wild onions. Or just be the moon shining over the river, coaxing wild onions.

And now for our featured poem. Jim’s Silent and Afraid was a response to last week's it felt like home prompt.

Waiting for the microwave to ding
The TV reporter caught my eye
She was young and styled,
Like all of them, at least most of them
With her tailored wool overcoat
And the wind gently mussing her hair
She stood with a mic near her lips hoping
Someone was watching, maybe they cared,
She spoke of a new park where,
“…drugs and brutality had once ruled the streets,
Children will play and families will picnic.”
Bulldozers groaned in the background
While houses disappeared

My thoughts drifted,
To an ageless matriarch
Sitting in the nook
With her house coat half buttoned,
It was once sunny yellow,
A smoldering cigarette
Bounced between her stained, cracked lips
Smoke hung in layers
Around the room
Occasionally she’d sip
From a near cold cup of coffee

Over the years a parade of men
Would come and go
Some would rummage the fridge
Making a sandwich or
Popping open a beer
Few would stay more than a month or two

Kids would giggle and slide across
The slick wooden floors
Until they got too close to the nook
Then all would be serious,
Silent and afraid
In other rooms they would play
Dreaming of being far away
When one got hurt they’d
Fearfully knock on the door of their
Mother’s room
Praying her anger would be less
Painful than their injury

Their mother was usually in her room
Resting, until she’d need to stumble
To the kitchen to refill her glass

At night the music got loud
Men would huddle by the cub
Under the street light
Talking and laughing
It seemed the night would never end

It felt like home
All over again
I turned off the TV
And ate my dinner
Silent and afraid

If you would like to participate in Random Acts of Poetry, read here for instructions.

This week's RAP Participants:
Yvette’s Daughters
Marcus’s Mrs. Moss Dances
Monica’s Drumbeats Feel Like Home
Cindy’s Put Me in, Coach
Sonia’s Moon Talk
Deb found a vignette instead of a poem: It Felt Like Home
Jim’s Silent and Afraid
Laure's Loud with Silence
Claire's Mosaic
Laura's Glass
GoodWordEditing's Form Follows Function

Livingston teaching story from her book Poem Making: Ways to Begin Writing Poetry 'Dressed Up' artwork by Gail Nadeau. Used with permission. Post written by L.L. Barkat.