Sometimes it’s the simplest prompts that get my students writing. From the beginning that’s my goal, just to get them writing and often not even realizing that they’ve written a poem until they’ve been doing it for a while. I use a lot of my index card writing games because it feels more like a game to them and less like homework. And because it allows them to stay in a safer place until they are ready to go deep. Because of course that’s what I’m hoping poetry will do for them, invite them to go deeply into who they are, the choices they have made, what matters to them, and where they want to go with their life. But I can’t dig at their hearts right away so I do a lot of easy prompts and exercises to get them in the mood.
Building on the idea of a list poem I like to use the prompt “I remember.”
Students are usually confused ask me, “I remember what?”
And I say yes. Tell me what you remember. Tell me everything you remember about yesterday. About the last time you saw your family. (My students are usually incarcerated.) Tell me what your bedroom looks like. Tell me how you feel about green beans. Pick a single thing or a single person and just make a list. Start every sentence with “I remember.” Then later you can go back and, if you want, rework the sentences. To see how this prompt worked in one of my classes you can read about this experience I had with a very reluctant student.
Okay, let’s write. I decided to write about a day 15 years or so ago when I was living in New Orleans and sprained my ankle.
First, my brainstorm starting each line with I REMEMBER:
I remember working late and being in a bad mood when I got home because there wasn’t anything good left in the house for dinner and I was too broke to go out to eat.
I remember climbing the two flights of stairs to apartment and hearing my dog barking on the other side of the door.
I remember thinking about how I didn’t want to go take the dog for a walk because it was looking like it was going to rain and besides I was really hungry and worrying about what I was going to eat.
I remember the cat got out the front door and for a minute I worried about him taking off except by then it was raining and I knew if he got wet he’d come back.
I remember the cat racing back into the apartment out of the rain.
I remember walking the dog for several laps around the apt complex, trying not to let her roll in the big puddles of water.
I remember how I couldn’t stop her from rolling in the water and she was a dirty, stinky, wet mess of dog by the time we headed home.
I remember being so angry about everything I didn’t like in my life, about living along, about being poor, about living in a town that didn’t want me, that I didn’t watch where I was going.
I remember the big tree, so close to my apartment, the tree whose roots were tearing up the sidewalk.
I remember tripping over the roots of that tree.
I remember falling and letting go of the leash and feeling something horrible happen to my ankle.
I remember pain. A lot of pain.
I remember hopping to stairs of my apartment, my dog barking and dancing like it was some kind of a game.
I remember crawling up the stairs on my hands and knees.
I remember collapsing, just inside the door,
I remember the way my ankle looked, swollen about 5 times its normal size.
I remember holding on to my wet and stinky dog and crying because I was so alone
And here’s my first draft of a quick poem. It needs something else but I’m going to go ahead and post it now.
Walking in the rain
a dancing dog by my side
I am suddenly sideswiped
by a sidewalk split open
by ancient roots seeking sun
by my own obsession with my anger
thrash
crash
mash
my ankle should not hit the sidewalk first
but it does
mud splatters
rain patters
nothing matters
anymore
my will is broken
my foot is not
and I crawl up the stairs
on my hands and knees
like a three-legged dog.
Inside safe but alone
my ankle swells
my world shrinks
and I can do
is cry.
–Susan Taylor Brown, all rights reserved
Your turn, if you choose to play along. Write an “I remember” poem
Susan, you make this too easy. Four poems in four days (rough drafts admittedly, but still). I would never have believed it! Your prompts are magic!
Through detail, your poem let me feel your physical pain and loneliness, so much so that I had to write something happier. Here goes:
I remember the horror
when my father was transferred
to the south where they say: ya’ll,
pin for pen, P.E. for gym,
put your things up, instead of away.
I remember getting corrected
for not saying sir. (Made me want to
hold my things up.)
I remember the first girl to talk to me –
made her repeat, “Whaat’s yore naime”
over and over before I understood.
And I wondered how Santa
would look on the grass.
But then I discovered fried okra,
swimming outdoors
many months of the year,
wild flowers carpets in spring,
indoor ice skating rinks,
and no need to shovel snow.
Turns out, Santa looks just fine
on the grass.
ellie
Love this, ellie! I went through a similar horror when this California girl landed in Virginia and then Louisiana. (neutral ground? Never heard of it before.)
I absolutely love the image of Santa on the grass. So vivid and telling.
Thank you for sharing with us.
It’s the Joe Brainerd model! I have one of his books. “I remember” is a great prompt.
I don’t know Joe Brainerd. Will have to look him up. I think I got the prompt originally from a Natalie Goldberg book.
Oops, misspelled his name! That’s what I get for not double-checking the book before posting. Poets.org has a nice piece on Joe Brainard, including a link to his I REMEMBER book:
http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/5945
I was given my copy of I REMEMBER by a friend, and loved it. I advised my mother to use the technique when she was trying to write her memoirs.
Thanks for this link, Jenn.
EVERY DAY IS A STRUGGLE
Happiness eludes me
Life is just that way
No laughter or smiles
Every day is a struggle
Love evades me
I don’t let anyone close
No hugs or no kisses
Every day is a struggle
Fear possesses me
I cry and shake quite often
No calmness and peace
Every day is a struggle
Anger overcomes me
As much as I wish it did not
I try hard to fight it
Every day is a struggle
Determination is with me
for that is my saviour
I can’t let things beat me
Or every day will be a struggle
– Anne McKenna
Love this one a lot, Anne. I was going down, down, down, right along with you and loved how determination picked you, and the poem, up at the end.
Well done.