Poetry Response

Fall 2011

Instructions:• Write about a one page

reflection on the poem• The reflection does not

have to be on the literary devices, or the symbolic meaning of the poem, but it must be about the poem in some way

• Do not worry about grammar or writing technique

• Do not worry about being wrong or not understanding the poem

• Perhaps the poem sparks a memory, or it makes you feel a certain way, this is what you should include in your reflection

• Reflections should be dated, titled (the name of the poem with author) written in ink, on the front of the notebook paper only

• Reflections may be used at later date as extra credit so keep them in your notebook in the writing section

August 19, 2011

I remember kindergartenI remember having to say good-bye to MamiI remember cryingI remember not understanding the teacherI remember the English lessons with pretty Miss PowellWho made the boxy words fit just right in my mouth without painI remember the teachers who said, “You don’t look Puerto Rican,”Expecting to hear me say thank-you very muchI remember overhearing some saying Puerto Ricansdon’t care about their children, Puerto Ricans aren’t cleanI remember the heat of shame rising up,Changing the color of my faceI remember praying no one heard what theTeachers said, prayingNo one see my hurt red as a broken heartI remember Mr. Seidman in the 4th grade and how he chose me for a big part in the school playI remember feeling importantI remember memorizing all those lines and Mami helping me

I remember making the audience laugh and the ApplauseI remember moving to Flatbush from Fort Greene-From a fifth floor walk-up to our very own houseI remember going from Girls High to Erasumus HallI remember going from smart to borderline in one dayI remember the bio teacher, Miss Nash, calling me stupidBecause I didn’t know how to use a microscopeI remember Mr. and Mrs. HambergerI remember how I laughed when I heard I was gettingOne for political science and the other for economicsI remember being amazed when they made learning a wonder’-filled adventureI remember working hard for them both and the faith each had in meI remember the A’s I got in their classesI remember being Puerto Rican in Erasums Hall High SchoolBecause I was the only one – until my sister followed – on the academic trackI remember the guidance counselor advising me to beA bilingual secretary because I certainly was no college materialI remember Papi, with his third grade education, saying“Lindin, tu puedes hacer lo que quieres. Yo te apoyo en todo. Siempre.”

I Remember by Lydia Cortes

Excerpt on “I Remember”“You can do whatever you want. I will support you in everything. Always.” The last line of this poem speaks of the power of family love and support, especially in families such as was mine, that had limited material resources to give. In 1966, when I started teaching, few books discussed Puerto Rican students in the United States – none written or edited by a Puerto Rican. When I decided to write Puerto Rican Students in U.S. Schools, I called on Lydia Cortes (my sister and a gifted poet) to write the opening piece. I cried when I read her poem. It continues to evoke strong emotions in me. I too had my share of demeaning, disparaging, and uncaring teachers. I also remember those who made a difference. Mrs. Phillips, my fifth-grade teacher and the only African-American teacher I had until I was a doctoral student, caught me cheating and gave me the only zero I ever received – and I knew it was because she believed in me. And Mr. And Mrs. Fried, high school French teachers, who made me proud that I spoke Spanish and showed me that knowing one language can help with a new one. “I Remember” reflects the reality of school for many children. It is about children’s resiliency and the power of family to counteract negative messages of schools and society. Most of all it is a tribute to teachers who make a difference. - Sonia Nieto, College Professor, Massachusetts

Don’t Quit by Edgar A. Guest August 26, 2011When things go wrong, as they sometimes willWhen the road you are trudging seems all uphill,When the funds are low and the debts are high,And you want to smile but you have to sigh,When care is pressing you down a bit,Rest, if you must – but don’t you quit!Life is queer with its twists and turns,As every one of us sometimes learns,And many a failure turns about,When he might have won had he stuck it out;Don’t give up, though the pace seems slow,You might succeed with another blow.Success is failure turned inside outthe silver tint of the clouds of doubtAnd you can never tell how close you are,It might be near when seems afar;So stick to the fight when you are hardest hitIt’s when things get worse that you mustn’t quit!

Vegetarian Physics by David Clewell September 2, 2011The tofu that’s shown up overnight in this house is frighteningproof of the Law of Conservation: matter that simply cannot be created or destroyed. Matter older than Newton,who knew better than to taste it. Older than Lau-tzu,who thought about it but finally chose harmonious non-interference.I’d like to be philosophical too, see it as some kind of paleinscrutable wisdom among the hot dogs, the cold chicken,the leftover deviled eggs, but I’m talking curdled soybean milk. And I don’t have that kind of energy.

I’d rather not be part of the precariously metaphoricalwedding of modern physics and the ancient Eastern mysteries.But still: whoever stashed the tofu in my Frigidaire had better come back for it soon. I’m not Einstein but I’m smart enough to know a bad idea when I see it taking up space, biding its time.Like so much that demands out imperfect attentionamid the particle roar of the world: going nowhere, fast.

The poet Robert Frost once wrote, “Unless you are at home in the metaphor, you are not safe anywhere.” Although he makes his point somewhat playfully, he reminds us that making sense of our lives and world requires going beyond a surface understanding. We must be able to infer meanings that may only be suggested, to understand the significance of symbolic gestures, to comprehend not just what has happened but what it means.

The Sacred by Stephen Dunn September 9, 2011

After the teacher asked if anyone had a sacred placeand the students fidgeted and shrank

in their chairs, the most serious of them all said it was his carbeing in it alone, his tape deck playing

things he’d chosen, and others knew the truth had been spokenand began speaking about their rooms,

their hiding places, but the car kept coming up, the car in motion,music filling it, and sometimes one other person

who understood the bright altar of the dashboard and how far awaya car could take him from the need

to speak, or to answer, the key in having a keyand putting it in, and going.

Calypso’s Song September 16, 2011

by Suzanne Vega http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XIZ_LIOfm3MMy name is CalypsoAnd I have lived aloneI live on an islandAnd I waken to the dawnA long time agoI watched him struggle with the seaI knew that he was drowningAnd I brought him into meNow todayCome morning lightHe sails awayAfter one last nightI let him go.

My name is CalypsoMy garden overflowsThick and wild and hiddenIs the sweetness there that growsMy hair it blows longAs I sing into the windMy name is CalypsoAnd I have lived aloneI live on an islandI tell of nights

Where I could taste the salt on his skinSalt of the wavesAnd of tearsAnd though he,pulled awayI kept him here for yearsI let him go

My name is CalypsoI have let him goIn the dawn he sails awayTo be gone forever moreAnd the waves will take him in againBut he'll know their ways nowI will stand upon the shoreWith a clean heart

And my song in the windThe sand will sting my feetAnd the sky will burnIt's a lonely time aheadI do not ask him to returnI let him goI let him go

Making Contact September 23, 2011by Virginia Satir

I believeThe greatest giftI can conceive of havingFrom anyoneisto be seen by them,heard by them,to be understoodandtouched by them.

The greatest giftI can giveisto see, hear, understandand to touchanother person.When this is doneI feel contact has been made.

the drum by nikki giovanni September 30, 2011

daddy says the worldis a drum tightand hardand i told him i’m gonna beat outmy own rhythm