The last two sessions at Solomon we focused on persona poems (also called dramatic monologues), which are poems written in the voice of a character other than the author.

Last week we read Loren Goodman's Recital, where a young boy recounts his experience participating in a solo piano performance. As his reward the boy receives a bust of Franz Liszt, and the poem unexpectedly (and hilariously) careens off into a stream-of-consciousness reverie: "I admired him for being worse than the other composers, for / concentrating more on his playing and physique. His hair looked / better than Beethoven's. Beethoven looked mean, but Liszt looked / tough." Students brainstormed on characteristics of their own personas, making lists of possible details to be used as background material for when they write their poems.

This week we read a song in the front yard by Gwendolyn Brooks, discussing similarities and differences between the young girl in Brooks' poem, and the boy in Goodman's. We also thought about motivations for each character, and considered choices each poet made in how they presented their poems on the page. Using their brainstorming from the previous week as a jumping off point, students then wrote their own persona poems.

Untitled (I Am a Girl)
Reem A.

I am a girl, a girl named Cornelia.
A girl who is different.
A girl who wants to be
important and thoughtful
to others. I am someone
who tries to chase
after my dreams
and tries my best.
I am a girl from
a far away place called
Yemen. I feel that sometimes
my dreams will come
true. I can hear
my parents call. I can hear
the birds tweeting. I can
smell all the roses.
I can taste the berries.
I can see the world in
my hands.
I can feel the water
swooshing through my
hands by the waterfall.
I am important.
Everyone is important.

Bubbles in the Sea
Monica L.

My name is Catherine
I am a seahorse
I swim in the sea feeling bubbles hit
me against my face while I swim
as fast as lightning.
I see a shark heading my way,
I hide in some coral.
I hear a rumble.
I peek out of the coral.
It's just a whale.
I cannot smell a thing.
I travel in the day and sleep at
night.
I live at the ocean floor and I am
happy.

Obama's Daughter
Riya P.

I am in my house all day.
I smell my mom cooking food.
I myself eating.
My mom is calling me I hear her.
I am a little girl.
I stay in the White House.
I am African-American.
I feel happy because my father
is the President.
My name is Sasha.

Mr. Sandlass, 4th Grade

Food
Naomi G.

I'm over here! Not there! Here!
Thank you. Eat me, not them, me.
My name is Cake. Don't eat anything
else, just me. I'm delicious. Better
than anything. So just eat me.

Untitled (I Don't Have a Name)
Devlin H.

I don't have a name.
I don't have feelings.
I don't live anywhere.
I see everything.
I hear nothing, but I know when and what
to respond to.
I do not taste, I do not touch, I
do not smell.

I only see darkness, some light shades
of the sun, drowning into nothing.
I'm nothing but I'm also everything.

I'm Chocolate
Isabella K.

My name is Chocolate,
I live in this suffocating wrapper.
I hear footsteps coming by me.
She touched my wrapper and opened it.
Now I can see,
I can see who was coming by me.
She opens her smelly mouth and bites half
of me.
Then the other half.
I'm chewed into tiny pieces.
I'm in her smelly mouth.
Now I'm dead.

Mrs. Goode, 5th Grade

Depression
Madison B.

You're sittin' there
on that chair.
Why are you so pale?
Is it because of me,
your depression?
Do you not want me?
Now I feel scrawny.
And trembly.
My yellow mustard
color does not complement
your skin.
I am an unwanted little
emotion.
I feel dizzy now,
did you ever think that
you don't have to keep
me?
I'm not a pet, I'm
not cuddly, I don't feel
like a puppy, I'm a sharp
pain.
I smell bad and I mean
really bad.

I sound like....like....like
a
           screeching
                        bird.
Boy did that give you
a migraine.

You don't have to
keep me...you don't.

I'm not a pet or a puppy.
I smell bad...really bad
and sound like an
earpiercing screech.

Oh well. Goodbye your
depressing is over.

I will find another
empty heart to take
over.

The Mystery
Elana D.

Michelle lives on Mary
Street.

She is gentle, friendly, kind,
and sweet.
A kind of person we all
want to meet.

Everyone thinks she's neat.
She loves to go to the mall
when everyone was at the
ball

she went to see what it's about.
All of a sudden she hears
a shout.

Everybody went to see
but it was a mystery.

Untitled (My Name Is Sue)
Yara S.

My name is Sue.
I am big, I like to
walk, I am also
smart.

I feel rich, I
feel weak, I
feel like I
am a boy.

I live in the
woods in a
scary place
a small place
I don't even
fit.

I get lost
in the creepy
woods.

I start looking
for my friend. I
feel like I am
sick.

I taste weird
things like grass,
wood.

I smell like
flowers. I
hear creepy
things like an
owl calling
out ooooohhh!