An update from our twentieth Writing Workshop with Conner Bassett A summary of the workshop held on Saturday November 6, plus some of the output published below After receiving feedback about what students would like to focus on, this week we held workshop on the anatomy of a poem, asking ourselves “What exactly is a poem?”. To begin, Conner reinforced the importance of exciting the senses over making sense, defining a poem as something that prioritizes the mode of writing over the written content, that is more concerned with how it sounds than what it says, and whose language is sonic and aesthetic, not narrative. Over the course of the workshop, we read works such as “Pope John” by Bernadette Mayer, “The Snowman” by Wallace Stevens, “My hat” by Henry Parland, “Poem” by Ron Padgett, and, of course, “Mown Lawn” by Lydia Davis. We also briefly discussed Starry Night as a visual representation of the logic of poetry. The Challenge: Try and imitate the poem “Mown Lawn” by Lydia Davis. That is, take a phrase, any coupling of words, and do to it what Lydia Davis did to the phrase “mown lawn,” turning these words into new words via sound. The Participants: Emma, Penelope, Josh, Clara, Simran, Olivia, Shilla, Sinan, Alice, Audrey, Ellie, Ethan, Svitra, Lina, Nova Svitra Rajkumar, 13(Fremont, CA) The Earl Bear Svitra Rajkumar, 14 Just big enough to sit in your palm The Earl Bear whimpers It is warm, so warm that it is cold Pale and gray Or was it a rich amber? A shade that you know you’ve seen before But can’t seem to remember It smells of cedar and earl gray tea A mellow scent that races through the quarries Quarries that hold crippled carp Gorgeous fish full of imperfections Sparkling tails and glistening scales Prey to the Earl Bear and Predators to the Poppy Kelp Scarlet as fresh blood, the Poppy Kelp sways Under the current of the quarry. Ethan Zhang, 9 (Mclean, VA) The Armpit Monkey Ethan Zhang, 9 I owned an armpit monkey, For some reason I hated it. Maybe because it sounded like Harm-wit donkey. Everyone knows I hate harm. Harm-wit donkey sounds ominous, Even though harm-wit has no meaning. Also, an armpit monkey sounds like A chicken, literally. It shrieks mad, Shrieking the word yeet, Which sounds like yeast, Something that I also hate. Yeet also means throwing things, Something related to harm. I hate life. The armpit monkey ruined it.
poem
Coronavirus, a poem by Chloe, 9
Chloe Mohamed, 9 (Wilton, CT) Tick-tock, tick-tock, the time seems to move like a snail as I wait for the world to move like a cheetah towards the Light Right now, It seems as if night rules the world And burns everyone’s Candle inside of them Everyday, I watch as the light of the sun rises And falls, And it can’t Get Up I try to lift up my heart for The sun But it’s like there is a spell On my heart Because Instead of it getting up, Everything falls, Including, Earth Deep down inside my bones and deep through my blood, I know that Soon, Light will shine For now, The world will have to wait For someone to heal its heartache
Three poems by Kai Wells, 12
Kai Wells, 12 (Maryland) Black God created us hoping we would be equal Not knowing that some would be treated differently Killed Murdered Shot Black You turn on the news and someone was killed… AGAIN Police offering us to God as if we are chocolate Our voices shut down before they can be heard Say their names They all matter Black Lives Matter Trayvon Martin Tamir Rice George Floyd Phillip White Michael Brown Sandra Bland Eric Garner Mya Hall Breonna Taylor All people who died JUST FOR BEING BLACK All of them had families who cared Some had kids Some had siblings All expecting their loved one to come home Only to find they were murdered Imagine the tears Imagine the heartbreak Can you imagine that Or are you too busy trying to keep America safe from “threats” Trying to keep them safe from black people Because when do kids like me go from cute and precious To dangerous and a threat to their community Like MLK I have a dream A dream that sometimes feels like an unknown reality A dream that feels fake I dream for black men and women to walk freely Without the fear that their lives are in danger No one should have to feel that they are constantly being judged No one should have to feel that they have to watch their back every living moment No mother should feel that feeling You know that feeling When you feel that something isn’t right They shouldn’t have to feel that but they do and it’s ten times worse They shouldn’t have to worry if they send their child out to play They shouldn’t have to worry if their husband is late from work They shouldn’t have to worry that their loved one might get killed Imagine that pain Imagine that worry It’s real Every mother of a young black child has felt it Every child should be able to walk down the street not considered a threat Every child should be able to wear a hoodie if it’s cold outside Every young boy should be able to play with a toy gun if they choose to Every young girl should be able to express themselves freely and not be stereotyped as a mad black girl But you don’t care You never care Because all we are to you is A threat Different Lower than Black Ever since slavery there has always been that sense of hope That the next generation would have it better But deep down they know It never gets better for us They are afraid of us Who is us Black We need to stand up Rise up Stand tall Show them that enough is enough I dream that black mothers can one day let their child outside knowing they will be safe But for now We show them that enough is enough We show them that they can never tear us down Why Because we are black We are black on black on black And we will fight until this injustice is brought to a stop Dear Moma I am a human I live in this country I call home… ish I may look different I may have different hair I may have different ancestry I may not look like the people on tv unless they were from the news stories I may not look like my friends But I am human And every day I leave home my moma says she loves me I think it’s just a saying But it’s true For my moma she loves me She loves my heart and soul Even though people would kill Just to kill it I didn’t know what this love meant Until I heard the stories For people who look like me are illegal For I am out of my own control For I can, no, will be called an n- But I don’t care I block them out Cause there will be that day When that red and blue comes hand on that protection shield Protection from what, from me That protection is the same thing that sent so many to be with many more But I will come home tonight I promise Love— BANG!!!! Time stops buts speeds up at the same time The pain, as I slowly drown in a red storm Darkness Then light… the light P.S. I love you too, Moma Bum Bum Bum Bum Bum Bum The sound of the music goes bum bum bum The beat keeping me on this planet goes bum bum bum bum Although people have the desire to end it mid-sentence But all these beats join the crowd in the sky But the beat of my soul goes on Even when people want me torn into shreds For being the illegal color that I am in this one-sided world It keeps bum bum bumming Forever The soul lives on And the beat keeps going Bum bum bum bum bum bum These poems were sent to us as part of our Classroom Submissions (for teachers only) Program. If you are a teacher of children 13 and younger and would like to submit your students’ work to Stone Soup, please do so via our Submittable.
