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.