A Poetry Assignment

Poetry combines my love of language, music, truth and beauty. The best poetry fuses these elements together in such a way that I think, "That is true. I wish I could phrase it so well." My current nightstand read, The Three Marriages: Reimagining Work, Self and Relationship by David Whyte, while not a book of poetry, is written by a poet. He explains early on that as a public speaker he mostly relies on hundreds of memorized poems that he strings together into speeches. I immediately began my list of "Poems to Memorize." Perhaps we all might be a bit more of a poet if we spent our time reading, writing, memorizing and reciting poetry.

I studied poetry in high school and college but claim no expertise in teaching it. Since grandmother, mother, daughters, and nieces recently began a three-week study of 19th-century British and American poets (not meant to be exhaustive), I have been attempting to feel my way through teaching it. For each poet we study, I have assigned us to write a poem based on one we have read. Speaking for myself, I know it has not made me write great poetry, but I have a greater appreciation for the poets we have studied, and I do feel I can consider myself an amateur poet.

At the request of one of my daughters and one of my nieces, we included Edgar Allan Poe in our study. I gave the following assignment:

Using Edgar Allan Poe’s “Alone” as your inspiration, write a poem on the topic of your choice using the following guidelines:

• Describe a feeling.
• Use dashes as your only punctuation.
• Make each couplet (set of two lines) rhyme.
• Each couplet should have the same number of syllables on each lines, either 7, 8 or 9 syllables.

Example poem:

Alone

Edgar Allan Poe

From childhood's hour I have not been

As others were — I have not seen

As others saw — I could not bring

My passions from a common spring —

From the same source I have not taken

My sorrow — I could not awaken

My heart to joy at the same tone —

And all I lov'd — I lov'd alone —

Then — in my childhood — in the dawn

Of a most stormy life — was drawn

From ev'ry depth of good and ill

The mystery which binds me still —

From the torrent, or the fountain —

From the red cliff of the mountain —

From the sun that 'round me roll'd

In its autumn tint of gold —

From the lightning in the sky

As it pass'd me flying by —

From the thunder, and the storm —

And the cloud that took the form

(When the rest of Heaven was blue)

Of a demon in my view —

My niece just completed her final course of chemotherapy for leukemia last week. The poem she wrote, "Jealousy," touched me with the true feelings of a 14-year-old girl. Here it is:

Jealousy

Whenever I look around and see—

Pretty girls with hair—unlike me—

Curly—straightened—or wavy hair—

Sometimes it’s really hard to bear—

My thoughts are filled with jealousy—

Why not that hair belong to me—

A wig I wear upon my head—

Taken off when it’s time for bed—

I’m not saying—I’m jealous all the time—

Just sometimes it hits me in my mind—

When I have thoughts of jealousy—

I think—one day—that will be me—

My assignment idea, good or bad, is not the intellectual property of anyone other than myself. You are welcome to use it in your own home or class, but I do politely request feedback on whether you enjoyed the assignment if you do indeed complete it.