Ego Tripping

Students read EGO-TRIPPING by Nikki Giovanni: http://www.math.buffalo.edu/~sww/poetry/giovanni_nikki.html#ego%20tripping
After discussing Giovanni's use of hyperbole, students write their own poems. Poems triggered by this model include the following:

THE MYSTIC DRAGON by Robert Lee

I was born in the Yellow River.
I walked along the hills and built the Great Wall.
I developed a system of written characters
that only civilized people could understand.
Out of my mind my son Buddha was born.
As my skin peels, silk sheets glisten beside me.
I pare my fingernails, and they fall as jade.
I am the mystic dragon.
I wander my giant continents and awe the primitives
with my abilities.
I am too godly, too perfect
to comprehend.


A DESIRED WOMAN by Michelle Fitzpatrick

I was born in New York City.
I walked down Fifth Avenue,
bulldozed Manhattan's rock into a mound,
and built the Empire State Buiilding.
The screams of my birth pains created Hell's Kitchen.
A shake of my hips set 42nd Street steaming.
A rustle of my hem set the garment district bustling.
The pupils of my eyes set the diamond distrcit sparkling.
Each strand of my hair is pure gold.
I am a desired woman.
I gazed from Mantattan to Brooklyn,
and steel rays spanned the bay with a beaming bridge.
The word's elite come to look upon me.
My countries are kings and queens.
I am divine.

Sometimes I Feel

I discovered this following three-line poem by Kathalena Ray many years ago:


Sometimes I feel
as lonely as a street
without houses.

Among the many poems this model has triggered are the following:

Sometimes by Diane Becker

Sometimes I feel
as lonely as a tree
without leaves.

Sometimes by Jeffrey Delmoral

Sometimes I feel
as lonely as a wall
without any graffiti.

Sometimes by Willie Bennett

Sometimes I feel
as lonely as a prison
without inmates.

Sometimes by Carmen Martinez

Sometimes I feel
as lonely as a
dead end street.

When I'm Alone

Students read the following excerpt from Liz Swados's play Runaways:

When I'm Alone:

I throw my knife into the wall.
I make up dances.
I make graffiti.
I have two pillows -- Simon and Sylvester
and I beat them and then apologize.
I do Kung Fu.
I do karate.
I draw a special squre in the
center of my room and sit there with
my most important thoughts.

Among the poems generated by this model are the following:

When I'm Alone by Althea Canada

I stare at my goldfish.
I play solitaire.
I clean my jewelry.
I polish my fingernails.
I eat dill pickles.
I throw shoes at my cat.
I play with dominoes,
I feed my pittbull.

When I'm Alone by Shirley Jung

I turn up the radio
and sing at the top of my voice.
I talk to myself.
I pretend I'm a soldier in training.
I take a long sudsy bath.
I make crank calls to my friends.
I sit on the toilet cover and I think.

Once

Students read the following poem by Siv Widerberg:

Once

Once I liked pablum
Once I couldn't find the way to Tommy's house
Once I didn't know how to skate
Once I thought my mama
was the only Mama
though other people had mamas too
Once when I was little, smaller, littler

Among the many poems generated by this model are the following:

Once by Miguel Quiroz

Once I liked Gerber peach sauce
Once I couldn’t eat pizza with extra cheese
nor hotdogs with ketchup
Once I didn’t know how to ice skate
Once I thought my mom was an alien
Once when I was little

Once by Giselle L. Rodriguez

Once I lived in Spanish Harlem
Once I was an angry child
Once I had a brother
Once I hated shrimp
Once I didn’t want to go to school
Once when I was little

Once by Danny Santiago

Once I liked tuna fish
Once I couldn't find my way to the N.B.A. store
Once I didn't know how to play basketball
Once I thought I was the only one
who knew about Street Fighter
Once when I was young, short and skinny

Once by Dipa Begum

Once I liked to play with straw dolls
Once I couldn't make any friends
Once I couldn't speak or read English
Once I thought Bangladesh was the
only country in the world
Once when I was little, smaller, littler

My Love

Students read the following poem by Ono No Yoshiki:

My love
Is like the grasses
Hidden in the deep mountains.
Though its abundance increases,
There is none that knows.

Poems generated by this model include the following:

My Love by Tonya Silver

My love
Is like a quiet stream
Forever flowing over stones and twigs.
Though many see its surface sparkle,
No one knows its torrential depths.

THEME FOR ENGLISH B

Students read THEME FOR ENGLISH B by Langston Hughes http://www.eecs.harvard.edu/~keith/poems/English_B.html

Among the poems generated by Theme for English B is the following:

THEME FOR MULTI-CULTURAL LITERATURE CLASS by Shuen Wong

Sometimes I ask myself
"Who are you?
A name, a body, a spirit?"
Then I am confused.

I am nineteen years old, Chinese,
born in a small mountain village in South China.
My blissful childhood was there, close to nature.
I was only me, artless and carefree,
like an elf of the mountain.
In the morning, mist arose from the forest
like soft, light gauze.
In the evening, a cool mountain wind blew
through the forest
lulling me into sweet dreams.

Now here I am, a New Yorker,
in this motley land of skyscraping pressures.
I study hard in school to keep up
the Chinese reputation
of diligence and intelligence.
I am confined to school and home
like a caged nightingale.

The tall buildings sorrund me.
Subways and TV's make me dizzy.
I miss the old trees and the mountain,
the wind, the mist, and me.

Eating crisp fried fish...

Students read the following excerpt from James Berry's poem about his native home.

Eating crisp fried fish with plain bread.
Eating sheared ice made into "snowballs"
with syrup in a glass.
Eating young coconut-jelly, mixed
with village-made wet sugar.

Smelling a patch of fermenting pineapple
in stillness of hot sunlight.
Smelling mixed whiffs of fish, mango, coffee, mint,
hanging in a market.
Smelling sweaty padding lifted off a donkey's back.

Hearing the laughter
of barefeet children carrying water.
Hearing a distant braying of a donkey
in a silent hot afternoon.

Seeing a village workman with bag and machete
under a tree, resting, sweat-washed.
Seeing children toy-making in a yard
while slants of evening's sunlight slowly disappears.

The following student poem was modeled on James Berry's:

Fort Greene, Brooklyn by Alikah Hodge

Eating my mother's homemade biscuits
buttery and fluffy.
Eating mushy mashed potatoes
with Momma's grits and gravy.

Smelling the sweet scent of
freshly-squeezed citrus juice.
Smelling honeyed candied yams
piping hot from the oven.

Hearing the neighbor's beagle baying
at the break of day.
Hearing the vivacious voice of Ray Charles
roaring from the radio.

Troubled Woman

Students read Troubled Woman by Langston Hughes.

Troubled Woman

She stands
In the quiet darkness
This troubled woman
Bowed by weariness and pain
Like an
Autumn flower
In the frozen rain,
Like a
Wind-blown autumn flower
That never lifts its head
Again.

After discussing Hughes's use of simile, students write their own poem modeled on Troubled Woman. Poems generated by this model include:

The Junkie by Steven Wong* *award-winning
He staggers
Into alleys of illusion
This wind-blown junkie
Angled by craggy veins
Like a
Helpless tumbleweed,
Like a
Crumpled, rain-streaked sheaf
Of yesterday's News.


The Old Man by Deborah Varner

He sits
In the stillness
Of his room
This old man
Crippled by
Age and loneliness
Like an
Aged tree
That can produce no fruit
Like the
Last living tree
In an eroding field.

For Tito

Students read the following excerpt from For Tito by Sandra Maria Esteves:

For Tito

you, macho machete,
are all the fine conga rhythms
played in the street, in parties, in spring
all the beautiful vibes of la playa sextet
washing up against the palms in the hairs of my back
turning my blood into salsa
and filling me up inside to swell
with who I am

you, macho paciencia,
are the star of my aqua sea

Poems generated from this model include the following:

For Tony by Maribel Juanrez

you, sexy man,
are the strings of my guitar
playing the chords of my heart
echoing my body in tune
strumming my soul with song

For Andy by Li Chui

you, clear crystal,
are the primrose stars
in the shadowy grass

you, eternal light,
are the surge
of deep music

For Danny by Melanie Myers

you, my masterpiece,
are all the fine art
charcoaled on the canvas
of my consciousness

are all the prize paintings
framed forever
hanging in the gallery
of my heart

A Winter Song

Students read the following poem by William J. Harris

A Winter Song

If I
were the
cold weather
and people
talked about me
the way they talk
about it,
I'd just
pack up
and leave town.

Using A Winter Song as their model, students wrote the following poems:

If I Were by Betty Adams

If I were a Brillo pad,
I'd scrub away all the scum of the world.

If I were an eraser,
I'd erase away poverty and war.


If I Were by May Yip

If I were the wind,
I would howl away hunger.

If I were the rain,
I would rinse away sadness.

If I were the sun,
I would melt all man's troubles.

Ali

Students read the following poem by Lloyd M. Corbin:

Ali

Ali
Is our prince
Regal and Black
A glass that could fall
but never break
A flower without rain
that could never die
Ali
Is our prince

Examples of poems written by students modeled on Ali include:

Bruce Lee by Frank Tchou

Bruce Lee
Is the master
Elegant but strong
A tiger with sharp senses
ever ready to strike
A nuclear power plant
of potential energy
Bruce Lee
Is the master
of martial arts

Ghandi by Matthew Vargese

Ghandi
Was a leader
Flexible but firm
A guiding light
that never dimmed
A small shivering voice
that storms never silenced
Ghandi
Is still a leader

Lydia by Margie Saez

Lydia
Is my momma
Magnificent and majestic
A rose that lives as long
as eternity in relentless beauty
A mountain that reaches into the blue horizon
that could never be stuck down
Lydia
Is my momma

Mother by Shu Chen Chiu

Mother
Is candlelight
Warm and bright
A glow of love
that flames forever
A torch in the tempest
guiding us past night
Mother
Is candlelight

Your Hair

Students read the following poem by Eve Merriam:

Your Hair

Your hair
is a web
of Japanese silk
for me to
weave my fingers through

After discussing Merriam's use of metaphor, students write their own poem using Merriam's as a model. Poems generated from this model include:

Your Eyes by Robert Morel

Your eyes
are jade jewels
from the Orient
into which I gaze
for silent secrets.

Your Lips by Mary Lightbourn

Your lips
are sugar
of Jamaican cane
for me to slowly
nibble my way through.

Fog

Students read Carl Sandburg's poem Fog http://rpo.library.utoronto.ca/poem/1791.html. They also listen to him reciting the poem http://poetlaureate.il.gov/sandburg.cfm. After a discussion of Sandburg's use of imagery, students write their own poem using personification. Among the poems generated by this model is the following:

Earthquake by Kim Lam Ng* *award-winner

The Earth roars
and shakes
his mighty body,
opening a huge mouth
to swallow whole cities
like a man his morning eggs.
He wakes, yawns, settles back to sleep,
leaving us to our trembling prayers.

When You're Away

The following poem by Eve Merriam serves as a model:

When you're away
I'm a single shoe

pockets without a coat

a hat

and no head to up it on.


Among the student poems this model generated are:

When You're Away by Bruce Hall

When you're away

I'm a faceless clock

a marching band without a beat

a violin

with no strings
___________________

When You're Away by Simone T.Reyes

When you're away

I'm an ocean without waves

a night without a moon

a prayer

without a God

Why I Don't Have My Homework

The following is one of many list poems that my students and I have devised:

WHY I DON’T HAVE MY HOMEWORK By Terrence McCall

My brother accidentally used it as paper for the birdcage.

The M15 bus treaded water on my book bag and it got soaked.

It fell into the frying pan when my mom was making pancakes this morning. I still have some of it in between my teeth.

My little sister used it for her art project. She got an A+.

I left it on the Amtrak train after spending the weekend with my grandma in Georgia.

A cop needed it as evidence in a case that was being followed by the FBI through a paper trail.

My mom accidentally wrote her grocery list on it. She took it with her, of course!

On my way to school this morning, I met a really cute girl. I gave her my number on the first piece of paper I reached. Unfortunately, it was my homework.

I got abducted by aliens, and they took my homework so they can study the human thought cycle.

We had to put it in the fireplace so we wouldn’t freeze to death.

I didn’t want to add any more work to my teacher’s workload.

There was a blackout in my house and I had to light it to find the fuse box.

I didn’t do it, because I didn’t want my classmates to look bad.

Caroline Pari introduced me to the following poem when I was teaching English at Seward Park High School. I've used it as a model ever since: http://www.georgeellalyon.com/where.html Among the poems it generated are the following:


Where I’m From by Noah Linda Clayton

I am Noah Linda Clayton.

I’m from fresh catfish,
homegrown goobers,
and our next door neighbor’s
stolen sweet grapes.

I’m from jigsaw puzzles
with missing pieces,
over-grown weeds
and barefoot feet.

I’m from frogs croaking in the night,
snakes hiding in the bushes
and endless mosquito bites.

I’m from understanding grandparents,
sympathetic church members
and a lost puppy.

I’m from “Let’s play cards,” “Oh, me! Oh, my!”
“If you pay attention,
you might still be here tomorrow.”

_________________________


Where I’m From by Willie James McCants

I am Willie James McCants.

I’m from warm crisp cornbread,
crunchy fried chicken, Mom’s baked ziti
and Grandma’s cream-filled vanilla cookies.

I’m from Super Sookers,
power toys with low batteries
and basketballs with no air.

I’m from the J train,
red and brown brick houses,
shoot-outs, dead dogs, highways
and car accidents.

I’m from, “Gimme,” “Nook, nook,” “Stupid,”
“You had your turn,” and
“When you goin’ to Baskin Robbins?”

_______________________________


Where I’m From by Katherine Roman


I am Katherine Roman.

I’m from smooth banana baby food,
rice and beans,
macaroni and cheese with broccoli
and strawberry ice cream.

I’m from red and white polka dot dresses,
shiny black shoes,
heavenly white blankets,
small bald baby dolls
and broken rattles.

I’m from tall buildings
with Welcome signs and balconies,
small rocky playgrounds with tall jail-like walls,
squeaky broken bicycles,
and screaming, laughing kids
flinging eggs from rooftops.

I’m from Angel Luis
cussing out the guys on the street corner,
and Grandma shoving the spoon into my mouth.

I’m from “Vamos para abajo a comprarte dulce,”
“Comete lo o te meto en la cara,” “La luna,”
“Ay, callase!” and “Ay, que linda!”

_________________________


Where I’m From by Dipa Begum

I am Dipa Begum,

I’m from cinnamon and cumin,
mashed potatoes seasoned with mustard oil,
onions and chopped green chilies, date palm jaggery,
curried chicken, sweetened curd and fried bread,
puffy and light that melts in your mouth,

I’m from little ragged dolls,
over 20 Barbies,
plastic baby rattles, pin wheels,
and colorful silk saris.

I’m from straw houses
that break in the wind,
poor people, congestion,
and dirt.

I’m from a religious mom, a generous dad,
two playful sisters,
and two annoying brothers.

I’m from “Stop it! I am going to tell Dad!”
“Behave, or else!”
and “Shut up, Dipa!”

I Wanna Hear a Poem

Students listen to Steve Coleman reciting "I Wanna Hear a Poem" on Def Poetry http://blog.spokenwordart.com/2007/02/14/steve-coleman-performs-on-def-poetry/. They then write their own poem modeled on his.


I Wanna Hear a Poem by Nazifa Jahan

I wanna hear a poem
about why you do what you do.
I wanna hear a poem
about something I never knew.

I wanna hear a poem
that makes me wanna think.
I wanna hear a poem
that makes me wanna blink.

I wanna hear a poem
about something real.
I wanna hear a poem
that I can feel.

I wanna hear a love poem,
a poem that makes me moan.

I wanna hear a poem
about chatting with friends.
I wanna hear a poem,
a poem that never ends.

_____________________________________


I Wanna Hear a Poem by Joann Ruiz

I wanna hear a poem.
I wanna say “Wepa!” when it ends,
Because I’m sick of saying, “Conyo!”

I wanna hear a poem
About who you are,
And what you are,
And not about how bored you are.

I wanna hear a sad poem, a bad poem,
An “I hate math” poem,

A creamy poem,
An “I’m not what I eat” poem,
An “I bleed” poem,
An “I am a hoe” poem,
And an “I have no place to go” poem.

I JUST WANNA HEAR A POEM

I wanna hear a poem
About my sad eyes, and my tears
And my soul.

I wanna follow my footsteps
And hear the truth
About the day the world was whole.

I wanna hear a poem.

_____________________________________


I Wanna Hear a Poem by Stephanie Rodriguez


I wanna hear a poem
About loneliness,
About what to do with myself
When I get lonely,

And where to go
When I wanna feel
Sheltered and protected.

I wanna hear a poem
About finding yourself,
Because I no longer know
Who I am
Or who I’m supposed to be
Or, should I say, what others expect of me.

I wanna hear
An “I’m sick of being perfect” poem,
Because that’s what I am
Sick and tired of being perfect
Sick and tired of all the pressure
Sick and tired of all the crap.

I just wanna be me,
Accepted for who I am,
And not what others want me to be.

I just wanna relax,
Lay back,
And hear a poem.

I wanna hear a poem.


(Thank you, Susan Klein, for sharing this model and your students' work.)

I Am What I Am

Students read Ending Poem by Rosario Morales and Aurora Levins Morales. http://social.chass.ncsu.edu/wyrick/debclass/morale.htm

Among the poems it generated is the following:

I Am What I Am by Ahlem Dakhlaoui

I am what I am
A young devoted Muslim
And a proud Tunisian.

The oldest of four children
Who looks out for her younger siblings.

I am the agile moves of my body --
The belly dancer in my blood
That flows with the rhythms
Of France and Tunisia
On the streets of the Lower East Side.

I am the bystander of my brother's accident
When he was hit by a drunken lunatic driver
Who ran from the scene.

I am the speaker of foreign langauges
With unfamiliar words --
Bonjour! Comment was-tu?
Salem --
That sometimes confuse even me.

I am the traveler to exotic places --
Paris, Madrid, Tunis, Tolouse.

Yet I am still me,
Not the one who depends on others --
But the young proud Tunisian Muslim
Who hears her mother's words
And sees the world with her own eyes.

Where My Grandmother Lived

Students were introduced to the following poem:

Where My Grandmother Lived by Doc Long Jr.

Where my grandmother lived
there was always sweet potato pie
and thirds on green beans and
songs and words of how we'd survived it all.
Blackness.
And the wind
a soft lull
in the pecan trees
whispered
Ethiopia
Ethiopia, Ethiopia
E-th-io-piaaa!

Among the poems it generated is the following:

Where My Grandmother Lived by Selina Lashley

Where my grandmother lived
there was always song
blowin' in the cypress trees.

Where my grandmother lived
there were sunday school,
picnic lunches in the park.

Where my grandmother lived
there were family meals,
barefoot dances for the young.

But my grandmother ran North
to this dirty, lonely slum
trying to find us
a richer life,

leaving us only stories
of where my grandmother lived.

I Am Waiting

The following poems are modeled on I Am Waiting by Lawrence Ferlinghetti. http://www.think-ink.net/visit/waiting.htm


I Am Waiting by Ibrahim Dembele

I am waiting for girls to stop acting so conceited.
I am waiting to visit Amsterdam where weed is legal.
I am waiting for my older brother to stop picking on me — although I know that will never happen.
I am waiting for my older cousin to get out of jail. He’s been in Rikers for six months for robbing four Duane Reades.
I am waiting for my aunt — his mother — to whup his ass
I am waiting for White people for stop acting so scared.
I am waiting for all races to stop discriminating against one another.
I am waiting for the Man to stop tearing down the projects.
I am waiting for rich people to stop taking over Harlem.

I Am Waiting by Isea Thomas

I am waiting to leave New York City and go back to Philly.
I am waiting to live in a neighborhood with friendly people.
I am waiting for my birth mom to stop using drugs. I haven’t lived with her since I was one, and I wonder what that would be like.
I am waiting for my aunt who adopted me to know just how much I appreciate her.
I am waiting to see my sisters.
I am waiting to become a famous fashion designer.
I am waiting to attend the Fashion Institute of Technology.
I am waiting for people to stop shooting each other.
I am waiting for that special someone.
I am waiting to find out who I really am.

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