If you are an educator or teaching artist, or someone who works closely with youth, I invite you to think about the times you’ve been delighted, surprised, or floored by the work your students produce. If you do not work with youth directly, I invite you to ask an educator friend if they can recount this experience for you.As a poet and educator, I was floored by the poems Nikolai R. wrote during a spoken word residency with Story Tapestries Teaching Artist, Regie C. at Pemberton Elementary. I know and have experienced first hand how poetry can not only build literacy skills but also unlock something special for students. Poetry’s intense focusing of language, paired with the poem’s freedom from strictly “correct” syntax and grammar, and freedom from “making sense” allow students to explore, to try, and to find additional avenues for expression. Given the right mix of structure, tools, and gentle guidance they soar.

We wanted to share with you two poems Nikolai R. wrote. Your support makes it possible for students to have these residencies during which they build their literacy skills and dig deeper the wells of their expression. Thank you for your ongoing support of Story Tapestries and for being a part of providing these life-changing, arts-integrated literacy programs for youth throughout the region.

If you have experienced a moment of being floored by a student’s work, we invite you to share that experience with us on our Facebook page. As we approach the end of this calendar year, let’s take time to record and cherish these moments and pledge to enter the year with more poetry.

Depression

My anger is as red as crayon,

a fire ant, as the river overflows

like my suitcase, tide rising.

I look for something out the window

to control. My patience is as small

as a baby snake, the more the clouds

pour rain, the more I am depressed.

My anger comes back like a boomerang

and my anger control is as small

as a piece of sand as the egg cracks

the more I want to do something.

Days go on as I bang my head

on stone, more ideas come to me

the wind blows as hard as I get

angry as I beat the drum the more

I feel good the flames of fire burn

in depression as the ice melts,

the memories come to me

in torment as the bridge collapses,

the more terrified people I see

as I count the sides of a square

the more depressed I become

as the fire burns out you see

the smoke of doom as I kick the wall,

the wall gives up and I am depressed.

I am always feeling blue as the cyclone

spinning the more I feel the wind,

the dragon spits fire the more I feel

myself as the sad music that is played

the depressing memories try to seep out,

I am a piece of ice that burns in the fire.

 

The moon shines in the moonlight

The moon

is the opposite of me,

bright.

I am as non-silent

as the moon

I talk a lot as the moon

shines in the night

but not day

the moon shines in a path

not my way

the sun shines my way!