Poetry Response
Fall 2011
Instructions:
• Write about a one page
reflection on the poem
• The reflection does not
have to be on the literary
devices, or the symbolic
meaning of the poem, but it
must be about the poem in
some way
• Do not worry about
grammar or writing
technique
• Do not worry about being
wrong or not understanding
the poem
• Perhaps the poem sparks a
memory, or it makes you
feel a certain way, this is
what you should include in
your reflection
• Reflections should be dated,
titled (the name of the
poem with author) written
in ink, on the front of the
notebook paper only
• Reflections may be used at
later date as extra credit so
keep them in your notebook
in the writing section
I Remember by Lydia Cortes
I remember kindergarten
I remember having to say good-bye to Mami
I remember crying
I remember not understanding the teacher
I remember the English lessons with pretty Miss Powell
Who made the boxy words fit just right in my mouth
without pain
I remember the teachers who said, “You don’t look
Puerto Rican,”
Expecting to hear me say thank-you very much
I remember overhearing some saying Puerto Ricans
don’t care about their children, Puerto Ricans aren’t
clean
I remember the heat of shame rising up,
Changing the color of my face
I remember praying no one heard what the
Teachers said, praying
No one see my hurt red as a broken heart
I remember Mr. Seidman in the 4th grade and how he
chose me for a big part in the school play
I remember feeling important
I remember memorizing all those lines and Mami helping
me
August 19, 2011
I remember making the audience laugh and the
Applause
I remember moving to Flatbush from Fort GreeneFrom a fifth floor walk-up to our very own house
I remember going from Girls High to Erasumus Hall
I remember going from smart to borderline in one day
I remember the bio teacher, Miss Nash, calling me
stupid
Because I didn’t know how to use a microscope
I remember Mr. and Mrs. Hamberger
I remember how I laughed when I heard I was getting
One for political science and the other for economics
I remember being amazed when they made learning a
wonder’-filled adventure
I remember working hard for them both and the faith
each had in me
I remember the A’s I got in their classes
I remember being Puerto Rican in Erasums Hall High
School
Because I was the only one – until my sister followed –
on the academic track
I remember the guidance counselor advising me to be
A bilingual secretary because I certainly was no college
material
I remember Papi, with his third grade education, saying
“Lindin, tu puedes hacer lo que quieres. Yo te apoyo en
todo. Siempre.”
Excerpt on “I Remember”
“You can do whatever you want. I will support you in everything. Always.” The last
line of this poem speaks of the power of family love and support, especially in
families such as was mine, that had limited material resources to give.
In 1966, when I started teaching, few books discussed Puerto Rican students in
the United States – none written or edited by a Puerto Rican. When I decided to
write Puerto Rican Students in U.S. Schools, I called on Lydia Cortes (my sister and
a gifted poet) to write the opening piece.
I cried when I read her poem. It continues to evoke strong emotions in me. I too
had my share of demeaning, disparaging, and uncaring teachers. I also remember
those who made a difference. Mrs. Phillips, my fifth-grade teacher and the only
African-American teacher I had until I was a doctoral student, caught me cheating
and gave me the only zero I ever received – and I knew it was because she believed
in me. And Mr. And Mrs. Fried, high school French teachers, who made me proud
that I spoke Spanish and showed me that knowing one language can help with a
new one.
“I Remember” reflects the reality of school for many children. It is about children’s
resiliency and the power of family to counteract negative messages of schools and
society. Most of all it is a tribute to teachers who make a difference.
- Sonia Nieto, College Professor, Massachusetts
Don’t Quit by Edgar A. Guest
When things go wrong, as they sometimes will
When the road you are trudging seems all uphill,
When the funds are low and the debts are high,
And you want to smile but you have to sigh,
When care is pressing you down a bit,
Rest, if you must – but don’t you quit!
Life is queer with its twists and turns,
As every one of us sometimes learns,
And many a failure turns about,
When he might have won had he stuck it out;
Don’t give up, though the pace seems slow,
You might succeed with another blow.
Success is failure turned inside out
the silver tint of the clouds of doubt
And you can never tell how close you are,
It might be near when seems afar;
So stick to the fight when you are hardest hit
It’s when things get worse that you mustn’t quit!
August 26, 2011
Vegetarian Physics by David Clewell
The tofu that’s shown up overnight in this house is frightening
proof of the Law of Conservation: matter that simply cannot
be
created or destroyed. Matter older than Newton,
who knew better than to taste it. Older than Lau-tzu,
who thought about it but finally chose harmonious noninterference.
I’d like to be philosophical too, see it as some kind of pale
inscrutable wisdom among the hot dogs, the cold chicken,
the leftover deviled eggs, but I’m talking curdled soybean
milk. And I don’t have that kind of energy.
I’d rather not be part of the precariously metaphorical
wedding of modern physics and the ancient Eastern
mysteries.
But still: whoever stashed the tofu in my Frigidaire had better
come back for it soon. I’m not Einstein but I’m smart enough
to know a bad idea when I see it taking up space, biding its
time.
Like so much that demands out imperfect attention
amid the particle roar of the world: going nowhere, fast.
September 2, 2011
The poet Robert Frost
once wrote, “Unless you
are at home in the
metaphor, you are not safe
anywhere.” Although he
makes his point somewhat
playfully, he reminds us
that making sense of our
lives and world requires
going beyond a surface
understanding. We must
be able to infer meanings
that may only be
suggested, to understand
the significance of
symbolic gestures, to
comprehend not just what
has happened but what it
means.
The Sacred by Stephen Dunn
After the teacher asked if anyone had
a sacred place
and the students fidgeted and shrank
in their chairs, the most serious of
them all
said it was his car
being in it alone, his tape deck playing
things he’d chosen, and others knew
the truth
had been spoken
and began speaking about their rooms,
September 9, 2011
their hiding places, but the car kept
coming up,
the car in motion,
music filling it, and sometimes one
other person
who understood the bright altar of the
dashboard
and how far away
a car could take him from the need
to speak, or to answer, the key
in having a key
and putting it in, and going.
Calypso’s Song
September 16, 2011
by Suzanne Vega http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XIZ_LIOfm3M
My name is Calypso
And I have lived alone
I live on an island
And I waken to the dawn
A long time ago
I watched him struggle with the sea
I knew that he was drowning
And I brought him into me
Now today
Come morning light
He sails away
After one last night
I let him go.
My name is Calypso
My garden overflows
Thick and wild and hidden
Is the sweetness there that grows
My hair it blows long
As I sing into the wind
My name is Calypso
And I have lived alone
I live on an island
I tell of nights
Where I could taste the salt on his skin
Salt of the waves
And of tears
And though he,pulled away
I kept him here for years
I let him go
My name is Calypso
I have let him go
In the dawn he sails away
To be gone forever more
And the waves will take him in again
But he'll know their ways now
I will stand upon the shore
With a clean heart
And my song in the wind
The sand will sting my feet
And the sky will burn
It's a lonely time ahead
I do not ask him to return
I let him go
I let him go
Making Contact
by Virginia Satir
I believe
The greatest gift
I can conceive of having
From anyone
is
to be seen by them,
heard by them,
to be understood
and
touched by them.
September 23, 2011
The greatest gift
I can give
is
to see, hear, understand
and to touch
another person.
When this is done
I feel
contact has been made.
the drum by nikki giovanni
daddy says the world
is a drum tight
and hard
and i told him
i’m gonna beat out
my own rhythm
September 30, 2011