As an undergrad, I took my first poetry class with David Bosnick (a brilliant mind who owned a book store, wrote poetry, played football, married Liz Rosenberg, and later became a middle school teacher). He was the first poet I studied under at Binghamton University and had an amazing effect on me. Our first assignment was a Magic Box poem that came from a book he assigned: Pull ten words out of a box...then, try to link them together in any way you can.
Fast forward. Teaching in Kentucky during the age of Portfolio assessments kids entered poems to their writing portfolio, and I used to assign a goal of 30 new poems a year, including the Magic Box poem. Over time, however, I adapted this exercise as the first activity where I could teach them how to play with the ten words as I prompted them to work in rhyme, alliteration, imagery, sensory rich language, etc. (see instructions).
Fast forward. Teaching in Kentucky during the age of Portfolio assessments kids entered poems to their writing portfolio, and I used to assign a goal of 30 new poems a year, including the Magic Box poem. Over time, however, I adapted this exercise as the first activity where I could teach them how to play with the ten words as I prompted them to work in rhyme, alliteration, imagery, sensory rich language, etc. (see instructions).
From the original 10 words pulled from a magic box, students would then brainstorm another 60 - 100 words. I created a game of crossing numbers (words with the 1st word with words from your 7th word, words from your 2nd word with words from your 6th word, etc. - finding ways to mix and match language in a rhythm and pattern enjoyable by you).
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| Magic Box Poem Instruction - Double Click to Enlarge. |
Time Warp to the night Attallah Sheppard (DIVA!) came to meet Kwame Alexander, the twins, and I for dinner. Her cousin, Alicia Smith, who partnered with me on a Writing Our Lives conference, invited her. Kwame was the Keynote (this was right before his career really took off) and he challenged this fresh-out-of-Howard University brilliant mind to a poetic duel. She delivered. I asked her to perform at the conference the next day and, alas, many many many times since. So, my workshop from KY morphed into The Diva, The Frog, & The Magic Box, where she performed several titles from her work.
Yesterday, Attallah and I had the honor to work with teachers from the Red Mountain Writing Project (and others from across the nation who ZOOM'd in). My original words were 1. Beach, 2. Civil Right, 3. Camellia (state flower of Alabama), 4. Northern Flicker (state bird of Alabama), 5. John Coltrane, 6. Red Mountain, 7. Albaamaha (native people of Alabama, 8. 16th Street Baptist Church, 9. Human Race, and 10. Love. I played along with the prompts I gave teachers and wrote a poem myself.
Attallah, of course, performed her magic (as she's done in Syracuse, NYC, Fairfield, New London, Chicago, and many other spaces and places (she should be on everyone's invite-list). And I did the workshop for teachers (having as much fun as when working with middle and high school kids). I post the directions and my model today so that others can steal from it. It's a workshop that works, and if you want kids to poetically play - especially during National Poetry Month - then this is for you.
The poem from yesterday's workshop? Well, it's below.
Dear Red Mountain
Albaamaha, Hello, Chíkmaa,
Without the need to preach, I come in peace…
with poetic outreach,
and hopes this speech will thank you,
alila mo,
alila mo,
for lighting fires the bear no longer knows…
I write to you,
children of lacrosse, teachers of cradleboard
& speakers of dugout canoes,
as my imagination grows
in a race & restoration of human rights,
in belief of sincere peace-making, and
with a desire for the simplicity
of caressing hope & sparkled dreams.
discovering how to love
without destroying,
harnessing the grudges
without hurting ourselves,
& keeping from falling victim
to the slippery wreckage
caused by the few.
How are you, my teachers?
How are you, my teachers?
Your children?
Their love?
Have you taught those lemony lessons
through letters written in the mail?
Have you shared the citrus summer scent
of Camellia,
a goodnight, poetic hug for kids?
a morning coffee with colleagues?
It’s a way to walk, hand in hand, Birmingham
while sipping jasmine tea
and rising up
in shared songs of forgiveness,
an orchestration for helping others
to think on their own.
I write as a northern flicker,
with lessons taught from 16th Street Baptist Church
with lessons taught from 16th Street Baptist Church
tippetty-tippetty-tippetty tapping -
in a pinch of history -
and with prayers for men and women
marching arm in arm.
& I am the vip, vip, vip, vip, vip, vip call of state birds
woven with a heart that pulls me toward a better world,
reminds me to fight for laughter and innocence,
for Addie Mae & Carole,
gospels and goosebumps,
Cynthia & Denise,
four girls with their eyes to the sky,
and God,
tippetty-tippetty-tippetty tapping,
oh, God,
meeting the bombs & hatred of ignorant men.
I write for us to sing, Red Mountain,
to bring instrumental hues
to our villages, to the youth
gearing up for success,
& to be melodies for the moon’s moods-
a serenity for John Coltrane’s smoky-bourbon blues,
to be served like fried chicken from Cafe Dupont
with a side-order of potatoes,
mashed, crookneck squash, smashed
in writing projects of possibilities and dreams.
I write with you, Alabama, alila mo
from the yellow hammer of a teacher’s pen….
inviting you to write with students,
again and again,
from a magical box of your own.
And the thing I love about this poem the most? The fact that I have a Northern Flicker living in my backyard in Connecticut and right before I went online for the workshop, he was on my back deck looking at me through the window. I simply whispered his way, "This one's for you, bud."
Well, it was for them, too.
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