22/30, A poem for…

Have you discovered something about yourself as a writer? Have you met a new poet-teacher-friend during #VerseLove? Has someone read your poem in a way that made you feel seen, heard, validated, understood? Which poem that you have written has brought you the most joy? Which poem that you have read has most impacted you? What has been a highlight of your #VerseLove experience?

Our Hosts

Araceli, Deanna and Michelle are pre-service English teachers at Oklahoma State University. Deanna plans on teaching here in Oklahoma when she graduates. Deanna also plans on returning back to school eventually to pursue her master’s degree so that she can teach college level English classes. Araceli plans to teach in Oklahoma for a couple of years after graduation, but hopes to teach English internationally one day. Michelle is originally from Atlanta, Georgia and plans on returning there to teach after she graduates. She hopes to pursue her master’s degree after graduating from OSU and teach educational classes.

Inspiration

We were inspired by the poem written by Sandra Cisneros titled “Abuelito Who,” who was affected by her grandfather. The word “abuelito” means grandpa in the Spanish language. Sandra Cisneros writes about her grandpa and shares memories that are unique to him. Throughout her poem, it is clear that Sandra Cisneros holds respect for her grandfather, as he is an important person in her life.

For today’s poem, we are drawing on the many lessons teachers have developed with Cisneros’s writing like Alba Hernandez along with our January inspiration from Stacey L. Joy.

We asking that you write about someone who has affected you or your life. This can be someone who is very special to you, like a family member or a friend, who has influenced you in some way. Through writing this poem, we offer respect to the person who has affected us.

Mentor Text: “Abuelito Who” by Sandra Cisneros

Abuelito who throws coins like rain
and asks who loves him
who is dough and feathers
who is a watch and glass of water
whose hair is made of fur
is too sad to come downstairs today
who tells me in Spanish you are my diamond
who tells me in English you are my sky
whose little eyes are string
can’t come out to play
sleeps in his little room all night and day
who used to laugh like the letter k
is sick
is a doorknob tied to a sour stick
is tired shut the door
doesn’t live here anymore
is hiding underneath the bed
who talks to me inside my head
is blankets and spoons and big brown shoes
who snores up and down up and down up and down again
is the rain on the room that falls like coins
asking who loves him
who loves him who?

Process

For whom do you want to write a poem? Who do you respect? Who has affected you? What scene comes to mind when you think of this individual?

Do some sensory pre-writing:

• Hearing – What sounds were going on in the background during your interactions with this special person?
• Touch – What were you feeling with this person? This could be the furniture you were sitting on or the air that was around you.
• Smell – What smells were going on around you? Perhaps you were at a friend’s house or in a restaurant.
• Sight – What were you seeing during your encounters with the person who affected you? This could be the scenery around you or the facial expressions from the person who affected you or your life.
• Taste – What were you tasting at this time? This could be from the food or drink you potentially had with this person, or even the words that they have shared with you.

Araceli’s Poem

My Apa who arrives home at 9:30 p.m. on the dot
Who’s loud roaring of his truck echos
Through the now empty neighborhood.
We can hear it from a mile away.
My Apa who walks in and greets us with his
Equally loud laugh.

My Apa who despite, the tiredness his eyes carry
Who’s smile never fades
The slight smell of grease follows him
Everywhere he goes now
that ‘s what working 20 years
at the same restaurant will do to you.
My Apa who masks the smell with teakwood cologne
But every now and then
I’ll catch a brief whiff of the grease smell.

My Apa who stands tall in the kitchen
Scratching his beer belly,
Who hasn’t touched alcohol in years
Yet who can not seem to get rid of that belly of his
My Apa who stands in the kitchen making me
my favorite dinner, potato soup.
Who can never say no to a request despite
Having worked a 12 hour shift
Only to come home and cook some more

My Mama tries to help my Apa
Who refuses the help
Who grabs her face and lighty kisses her forehead
Who turns to look at me and lightly messes with my hair
“Go on now. I’ll call you when the food is ready”
My Apa who hands are rough from years of damage
working in the restaurant and from doing
Random jobs trying to keep the family afloat
Who despite his rough hands,
still manages to give the warmest bear hugs.

My Apa who’s raspy voice calls out my name
“Food is ready”
I make my way to the kitchen and find that the table
Has been set, a steaming bowl of
Creamy potato soup waits for me by my seat
“I hope you like it, mija. I made it just for you.”
I smile and begin to engulf myself in his food
My Apa who’s delicious food has never failed me.

Michelle’s Poem

Mom who sounds like angels singing the most beautiful of melodies
Mom who makes me feel comforted and warm, like drinking hot chocolate on a snowy day
Mom who smells like the serenity of the beach, constantly bringing me peace
Mom who looks like the pillar of my strength, who inspires me to never give up
Mom who grants me solace through her food as it tastes like home

Deanna’s Poem

Mother Nature who sounds like the drops of rain hitting my windshield
while screaming and bursting with light
Who sounds like the waves rushing onto the shoreline
and crashing into rocks
Who sounds like the birds chirping early in the morning
when your sun is rising into the sky
Who sounds like the wind rustling my windows
since you have rattled them loose from all the storms

Mother Nature who smells like fresh green grass
after being mowed in the hot summer heat
Who smells like the burning of a wildfire
that killed so many precious living things
Who smells like bright pink and yellow flowers
that tickle the end of my nose
Who smells like the fresh air I breathe
in and out

Mother Nature who feels like the blades of grass in between my toes
as I walk in my backyard
Who feels like the relief of jumping into the lake
on a hot summer day
Who feels like the fear in our hearts
when the pandemic hit
Who feels like the sharp cold air hitting my skin
when I stepped outside of my house during the winter storm

Mother Nature who taste like the red raspberries
I eat every morning to start my day
Who taste like the fresh water I drink
when I am thirsty
Who taste like the rain drops hitting my tongue
as I lean my head back to catch them
Who taste like the honeysuckles
that are sweeter than honey

Mother Nature who looks like the dark gray skies above my house
when the storm rolls in
Who looks like the clear blue water
and the sand in between my toes
Who looks like the bright full moon
and shining stars that create shapes I can never find
Who looks like the world that surrounds me
and all the beautiful things in between