This week, we started going through our poems for Poetry Out Loud. We individually stood up in the front and recited our poem and Ms. Ashley helped us with our intonations and actions line by line. I chose "a song in the front yard" by Gwendolyn Brooks:
I’ve stayed in the front yard all my life.
I want a peek at the back
Where it’s rough and untended and hungry weed grows.
A girl gets sick of a rose.
I want to go in the back yard now
And maybe down the alley,
To where the charity children play.
I want a good time today.
They do some wonderful things.
They have some wonderful fun.
My mother sneers, but I say it’s fine
How they don’t have to go in at quarter to nine.
My mother, she tells me that Johnnie Mae
Will grow up to be a bad woman.
That George’ll be taken to Jail soon or late
(On account of last winter he sold our back gate).
But I say it’s fine. Honest, I do.
And I’d like to be a bad woman, too,
And wear the brave stockings of night-black lace
And strut down the streets with paint on my face.
Because the poem was so mature and required seriousness, I felt like I couldn't express myself as I
needed to in front of the class. I felt embarrassed at times, because the interpretation of the poem that I
had found was just a little snippet of the poet's wish to become naughty and a bad girl. But I reminded
myself that sometimes, even I feel this way and I really wanted to take this poem seriously. Ms Ashley
said it could be a winning poem if done well. I plan on having a one-on-one session with her and really
make it great to perform.
As for my second poem, I chose one of my favorites (of my very limited poem 'repertoire'), "My papa's
waltz" by Theodore Roethke:
The whiskey on your breath
Could make a small boy dizzy;
But I hung on like death:
Such waltzing was not easy.
We romped until the pans
Slid from the kitchen shelf;
My mother’s countenance
Could not unfrown itself.
The hand that held my wrist
Was battered on one knuckle;
At every step you missed
My right ear scraped a buckle.
You beat time on my head
With a palm caked hard by dirt,
Then waltzed me off to bed
Still clinging to your shirt.