Friday, November 18, 2011

Writing shines through poetry unit at Mt. Garfield

Each of these eighth graders just finished presenting a poem
for their classmates.  Guest poet Patrick Montoya poses with
Ms. OBrien, Language Arts Teacher  for this photo op.
Since the first cave man picked up a burned, charcoal stick and wrote or drew on a cave wall, man
has continued to search for self expression. Through the ages, alphabets, words and languages have evolved which now results in mirads of wonderful works for ages to come.

Monday, November 14, a group of Mt. Garfield students proudly presented their original works of poetry to the rest of their class. As a guest in the class, I was blown away by the design and content of the works these eighth graders had created. Frost, Dickinson, cummings, Atwood, Tennyson and Longfellow, move over,  this new generation is quickly coming into their own.
The other eighth graders who are seated had presented their
original works a few days prior to Monday, November 14.

Poetry is perhaps, the most effective way to express an emotion, or tell a story in minimal terms. As evidenced in the poems by these eighth graders, there are so many themes which can come alive in only a few lines.
As a painting or sculpture will bring different meanings to each individual viewer, so too, poetry, another art form, brings forth many and varied interpretations. Poetry can entertain, can inspire, can move nations and so much more.
Poetry is painting feelings in the form of words which reach each person who reads them causing specific feelings. Poetry is an emotional connect of the human spirit.
Several students were brave enough to let their works be published in this blog. A few samples follow below.

Surrounded by language arts posters, books andincentives
aimed at helping bring out good writing from students, the
students will remember this special moment.

Monteya, an artist and poet, recited his original poem
entitled "Clouds" for the class.

If I were a tulip
Pushing up toward the stars
That shine so brightly for me
Or the sun that's concealed my clouds
Only to be clear agin
I'd push higher than all the others
For I strive to be the tallest...
I feel small as a bug
My friends are tall.
I'm called tiny, tiny.
I get squished at a mall
And wherever I go out to eat
I have to watch out
For people's smelly feet.
If I should ever 
Try to read a big book,
I'll have to watch out
Or much flatter I'll look.
As I have said,
I am rather small.
But I do not wish
 I were ten feet tall.

More wonderful works are recorded in students' journals. Who knows, perhaps a Pultzier Prize Winner
will grow from this class.

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