Painting with Words
As you know, we are a class of poets, among other things. Our last session was devoted to two of our best friends, Metaphor and Simile.
I usually write alongside my students as they write. It is so important to model for students, not only the skill, technique, or concept you are teaching, but your willingness to take a risk. When they look up and see that I am writing alongside them, they know that I value writing–it’s part of my life. In the spirit of sharing something raw (as I am always asking them to do), here is a poem that I wrote during class the other day. One of our poetry prompts is the observation poem.
I shared with them the backstory. There is an older gentleman who lives in my neighborhood. He owns approximately eight old Buicks, which he rotates around the neighborhood every day. My poem doesn’t have a title yet, so feel free to suggest a few:)
Untitled
Mystery lives on my street
He rises before the light reflects on the dewy leaves
His eyes combing the neighborhood,
Like a detective on the beat
Like a game of chess, he strikes a move
I wonder if all those cars’ existence prove
He once was a young man, an on-the-move man
Like Jack Kerouac, on the road
Adventures from mountain to sea
Wanderlust feelings must be
Now measured in feet
While once the miles raced beneath
In my neighborhood, a museum of Buicks appears
Frozen in 1975,
But in his mind alive
Great poem! I love it!