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Poetry Prompt: Walking Towards Beauty

By Callie Feyen 25 Comments


In the book, Last Stop on Market Street by Matt de la Peña, a grandma and her grandson, CJ, are on an outing, and CJ has a lot of questions: How come they have to wait for the bus in the rain? How come they have to wait for a bus at all? Why don’t they have a car? She tells him that trees get thirsty. (“Don’t you see that big one drinking through a straw?” she asks. He doesn’t. Yet.) She tells him there’s no need for a car when they have a bus that breathes fire.

The slim tale goes on like this for a few vibrant pages as CJ names something about the world and his grandmother names something more, thus widening his perspective and helping him see the truth in a deeper, more creative way.

When they arrive at the last stop on Market Street and head towards a soup kitchen where they will serve a meal, CJ notices so much brokenness — sidewalk doors, windows, and stores.

“How come it’s always so dirty over here?” CJ asks his grandma. She tells him, “Sometimes when you’re surrounded by dirt, CJ, you’re a better witness for what’s beautiful.”

She points to a rainbow in the sky arching over the apartment buildings, and CJ wonders how she can find beautiful in the broken world, but they walk a bit more, and soon he sees familiar faces from his weekly visits to the soup kitchen.

And seeing them, he smiles and begins to understand.

Try It:

This week take a walk and notice your surroundings, as CJ did. Ask questions about what you see, and respond in the manner of CJs grandmother. Try to write a poem that is a witness to beauty in a broken world.

Featured Poem:

Thanks to everyone who participated in last month’s poetry prompt. Here’s one from Rick that we enjoyed:

Dandelion

Scattered far,
the gray horses
of my longing.

Sprightly seeds
with dampened wings,
a dream of gold,

beneath the cold
and heavy snow.
Bloom bright for me,

for my wish was true
and silent, and
I believe in you.

—Rick Maxson
 

Photo by Lionel Henry Creative Commons via Flickr. Post by Callie Feyen.

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  • Author
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Callie Feyen
Callie Feyen
Callie Feyen likes Converse tennis shoes and colorful high heels, reading the poetry of Gerard Manley Hopkins, and the Twilight series. Her favorite outfit has always been a well-worn pair of jeans and a white T-shirt, but she wants hoop skirts with loads of tulle to come back into style. Her favorite line from literature comes from Sharon Creech’s Absolutely Normal Chaos: “I don’t know who I am yet. I’m still waiting to find out.” Feyen has served as the At-Risk Literacy Specialist in the Ypsilanti Public Schools and is the author of Twirl: my life with stories, writing & clothes and The Teacher Diaries: Romeo and Juliet.
Callie Feyen
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Filed Under: Blog, Poems, poetry prompt, poetry teaching resources, Walks and Meanderings, writer's group resources, writing prompt, writing prompts

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About Callie Feyen

Callie Feyen likes Converse tennis shoes and colorful high heels, reading the poetry of Gerard Manley Hopkins, and the Twilight series. Her favorite outfit has always been a well-worn pair of jeans and a white T-shirt, but she wants hoop skirts with loads of tulle to come back into style. Her favorite line from literature comes from Sharon Creech’s Absolutely Normal Chaos: “I don’t know who I am yet. I’m still waiting to find out.” Feyen has served as the At-Risk Literacy Specialist in the Ypsilanti Public Schools and is the author of Twirl: my life with stories, writing & clothes and The Teacher Diaries: Romeo and Juliet.

Comments

  1. Sandra Heska King says

    June 3, 2019 at 10:36 am

    “Sometimes when you’re surrounded by dirt, you’re a better witness for what’s beautiful.”

    Ooohhh… I love this. You have to dig a little deeper sometimes, but it’s there. This isn’t from a this-week walk, but…

    Haitian Snapshot

    After the girls finish their rice and beans,
    I help Chilanchi lug a heavy pail of water down the hill,
    my right hand and her left grasping the handle.
    She sidesteps and holds her right arm in front of me
    like a crossing gate to steady me in case I trip.
    A barefoot boy in a holey shirt-gown, its stretched
    neck hanging down one shoulder exposing his scapula,
    pulls a makeshift car across the dirt path
    by two lengths of string tied together
    and attached to a piece of cardboard,
    its empty snack bag driver
    hunched over the imaginary steering wheel.
    Three girls share crumbs from a torn-open,
    cast-off Cheez-It bag, pass it around so each
    can lick off any remaining salt that clings.
    Ivelor and I break chunks of chalk to draw
    flowers and trees and write names on concrete.
    Kids photo bomb a camera session
    with a couple chickens and peals of laughter.
    Singing pours from one
    of the green concrete houses.
    “I love you, Sandy,” says Sophonie.
    “Mwen renmen w tou,” I say.
    I love you, too.
    And the brightness of the sun blinds me.

    Reply
    • Richard Maxson says

      June 3, 2019 at 11:32 am

      This brings tears to my eyes, Sandra. Your sudden and subtle last statement so well states how beauty can ambush us. “And the brightness of the sun blinds me.” is so effective because of the vividness and precision of names, place, and artifact that come before. Certainly one of the best poems in the Poetry Prompt section of Tweetspeak.

      Reply
      • Megan Willome says

        June 3, 2019 at 12:31 pm

        Agreed! Thanks for sharing, Sandy.

        Reply
        • Sandra Heska King says

          June 3, 2019 at 3:34 pm

          Thanks, Megan. It’s been a lot of weeks since I participated in a prompt.

          Reply
      • Sandra Heska King says

        June 3, 2019 at 3:33 pm

        Wow. Now I’ve gone and got all teary. Especially since I seem to have lost my words lately. Thanks so much, Richard.

        If all goes well, I’ll be going back to Haiti in December. The orphanage has been rebuilt since Hurricane Michael, and the kids I knew have moved on, so it will be a whole new experience.

        Reply
    • Callie Feyen says

      June 11, 2019 at 5:49 pm

      Thank you, Sandra. All these rich details and imagery makes me feel as though I’m in this poem, and walking toward the beauty you see and are sharing.

      Reply
  2. Richard Maxson says

    June 3, 2019 at 11:33 am

    Thank you, Callie for featuring my poem.

    Reply
    • Sandra Heska King says

      June 3, 2019 at 3:44 pm

      We just got back from Michigan, and it was so good to see dandelions again. When I was a kid, we had an eccentric neighbor who stalked her big yard to yank out every one she saw. Then she’d start on our yard because she didn’t want those gray horses scattering gold dreams on her side of the lot line. I wish we had dandelions here. I love this poem.

      Reply
    • Callie Feyen says

      June 11, 2019 at 5:50 pm

      Thank you for sharing it!

      Reply
  3. Isabelle G. Schlegel says

    June 3, 2019 at 7:14 pm

    Socialize
    I mutter under
    my breath.
    I haven’t spoken
    to anyone
    all day. And yet
    I am a part of this
    buzzing party
    similar to that of
    insects, buzzing outside
    in the air, in conversation.
    I could never
    hold a conversation
    that long. Or,
    ever at all.

    Thrushes of wind
    ruffle yawning red
    umbrellas, way up
    high, the rooftop garden
    shifts its sky-lining
    shoulders, as we awaken
    its belly with our steps.
    We, the partiers,
    Me, a partier.
    How ridiculous.

    I count each face
    I don’t know,
    and count how
    many times I’ve never
    looked at them.
    Then, sipping from
    my green plastic
    cup of Coca Cola,
    still popping with
    ice-cold carbonation,
    search their features
    and memorize their
    unspoken names.

    Always looking up
    at the stars,
    and the roiling clouds,
    and the golden
    flare of sun,
    I have to adjust my eyes.

    Soon I see
    an open-lipped smile,
    encountered by
    homemade sweets.
    We bring our own treats.
    I see vibrant laughter,
    leaping from her
    trembling shoulders.
    I see eyes, bejeweled
    by the mid-afternoon
    light, swimming
    blue opals in crystal
    water. I see
    clasping hands with
    rainbow nail polish,
    and hugging bodies

    that make an arch

    of friendship.

    I see closeness

    from miles away.

    Reply
    • L.L. Barkat says

      June 3, 2019 at 8:40 pm

      Isabelle, I especially like “I see closeness / from miles away.” And the way the poem suddenly warmed to its colors. Perhaps the way you warmed to the moment. 🙂

      Reply
      • Isabelle G. Schlegel says

        June 3, 2019 at 9:57 pm

        Well, I was prompted to take the opportunity to see things in a different way. Turns out all I really had to do was look in another direction 🙂
        Thank you for the compliment!

        Reply
        • L.L. Barkat says

          June 4, 2019 at 7:31 am

          You’re welcome. 🙂

          And, somehow that seems like a real life takeaway—that idea of looking in another direction to see what else we might see.

          Reply
    • Sandra Heska King says

      June 3, 2019 at 9:05 pm

      Hi Isabelle,

      I liked how the partier began to relax in an uncomfortable situation by paying attention to the other partiers. Oh, and those eyes–blue opals swimming in crystal water.

      And now I want an ice cold Coke, but all I have is water.

      Reply
      • Isabelle G. Schlegel says

        June 3, 2019 at 9:59 pm

        Lol, thank you!

        Reply
        • Isabelle G. Schlegel says

          June 3, 2019 at 10:04 pm

          I remember reading your poem, actually, I knew this name was familiar. It popped out at me, especially the title, Haitian Snapshot. People bring cameras to big events, like weddings, graduation, and picnics maybe…but we don’t think to snapshot small moments, like casually hanging out with friends, and those are the ones we often want back the most upon reflection. I think you created that one moment so vividly and fully.

          Reply
          • Sandra Heska King says

            June 4, 2019 at 8:33 pm

            Thank you! You’re right–it’s good to capture those often forgotten moments.

            Actually, I just wrote the poem yesterday morning–but I did write about these events in several different posts on my blog. 🙂

    • Callie Feyen says

      June 11, 2019 at 5:54 pm

      I can so relate to this scene, Isabelle.
      I love parties, but they take a lot out of me, and sometimes I wonder if they take too much out of me.
      Nevertheless, I love this line: “I have to adjust my eyes.” What a nice metaphor for the transformation, I suppose, we go through to see the stars in the room we are in.

      Reply
  4. Tiffany Patterson says

    June 4, 2019 at 8:05 pm

    Familiar Mess

    Dust thick on the dashboard
    Covering the radio numbers and
    Song name and
    Artist
    Popcorn pieces litter the
    Floor
    straw wrappers
    napkins
    Jackets discarded from
    Colder days
    Crayons mushy, broken, blunt
    Coloring book torn and ragged
    Old towels line the back
    Seats covered in mysterious crumbs,
    happy meal toys
    Red melted sticky wax of Babybels stuck to
    Carpet
    The distinct smell of stale food and
    Children
    Dirt ground into grey leather
    Showing years of life
    Wear
    Tear
    Tears
    Laughter
    Love
    Protection from
    Storms
    Security
    In the changing world
    That goes by
    Daily
    Opportunity
    of
    Unknown
    Destinations.

    Reply
    • Sandra Heska King says

      June 4, 2019 at 8:37 pm

      I love the detail. This brought back soooo many memories. Though we never thought to take Babybels. We had cheese stick wrappers. 😉 There aren’t too many memories in my car now. It’s clean. And kind of lonesome.

      Time goes by so fast.

      Reply
      • Isabelle G. Schlegel says

        June 4, 2019 at 8:44 pm

        I agree, except I’m the child making a mess in my mom’s car- I’m 16 and getting my permit soon, so soon it’ll be my own familiar mess.

        This poem made me smile, because though the memories may be different, we can all experience nostalgia in some way. I have been dealing with such a theme for a few months now, and the reflection pays off well.

        Reply
        • Tiffany Patterson says

          June 4, 2019 at 8:51 pm

          Isabelle,

          Thanks for the comments.. and I like the idea of my own kids making their own mess in their own cars.. unfortunately I am at least 6 years away from that:)

          Reply
          • Isabelle G. Schlegel says

            June 4, 2019 at 8:58 pm

            You’re welcome! And the thought is weird even for me..I’m both excited and scared.

      • Tiffany Patterson says

        June 4, 2019 at 8:50 pm

        Thank you. I agree that time goes by too fast… I also really need to get the minivan detailed. 🙂 After my son left the babble wrapper in the van one day and it permanently stuck to the carpet.. no more…

        Reply
    • Callie Feyen says

      June 11, 2019 at 5:57 pm

      What lovely details, Tiffany! Surely you are describing my car. 🙂

      I find this poem comforting. So many times I feel guilty for all the cleaning and tending I am NOT doing, but here another mother shows me beauty in the mess. Thank you.
      Also, I love “Showing years of life/Wear/Tear/Tears.” I may have said that line outloud a few times. 🙂

      Reply

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