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The Point--Which Is Poetry
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From: mark berge <meberge>
Date: Mon, 10 Feb 1997 23:04:31 -0600 (CST)
Dear CCBC community,
I suppose an introduction is in order, since I'm just a babe in this virtual section of woods. My name is Mark Berge, and I'm in my first year of the UW-Madison Master's program in Library and Information Studies. Please don't ask which sub-area of the field I'm headed toward; I'd have to give you five different answers. In one of my favorite lines from reggae artist Jimmy Cliff, "Time will tell." But to the point--which is Poetry.
When I was a boy, I met a book that significantly influenced my lifelong interest in words, poetry, and humor. I certainly would never argue that this work's collection of poems could stand up to something of the beauty of Byrd Baylor's work (for any who haven't read her words...they are deeply wonderful. Her excellent "Everybody Needs a Rock" prompts me to the declaration that "Everybody needs Byrd Baylor."). Nevertheless, after reading the 2/9/97 email contribution from the fingers of "Walter the Giant Storyteller" (and what a large computer you must use, Walter...), I was reminded again of the importance of humor, and sheer enjoyment of language and subject, as crucial elements in effectively inviting children into the realm of poetry.
The book? "Beastly Boys and Ghastly Girls" by Cole and Ungerer. I still laugh when rolling its poems through my brain, or even just seeing its cover. Yes; the poems are rather "nasty" at times--even grisly. But I loved them when I was a child, and have seen children of the next generation respond as I did to them. And as Walter points out, such strange and rambunctious words can serve as a gateway for children into a world they might otherwise ignore.
Kimberley King's email (2/10/97) takes us the next step further: that there is a certain stigma attached to poetry--it isn't "cool" and kids don't want to be thought "that" kind of person. Yet Shel Silverstein (mentioned by Walter) can be "cool." Funny, weird, and even macabre poetry can catch the fancy of children--even little boys who think of poetry as "cissy." I only vaguely recall textbook poetry from elementary school; but I clearly remember, to this day, whole chunks of nonsense verse from Edward Lear, Lewis Carroll, and "Beastly Boys and Ghastly Girls." So if you don't know of Cole and Ungerer's book, see if it might be tucked away on your library shelves--maybe misfiled somewhere between "Jabberwocky" and "Jumblies."
In a more "enlightened" vein, I would vigorously submit "Wishes, Lies, and Dreams" by Kenneth Koch. Again, for those who don't know it, the book is basically a collection of poems written by children in Koch's "poet in the school" workshops. Aside from the beauty of the poems, the thing I esteem most highly in this book is the value it quietly places on the words of children.
So much calls for the silence of children in our society, and declares that their interests, perspectives, and even their very lives are "irrelevant,"
"ridiculous," "impractical," and of little value. I think of the many wise words of Saint-Exupery's "The Little Prince" in this moment, and then of the way we carve our national budget in the next. Other examples abound of our foolish and cruel treatment of children--both abuse and neglect. Hearing Jonathan Kozol a few months ago deepened my sense of this, in ways which were sad and heartening in one; I recommend him also in the strongest way for your "adult" reading--if there really is such a thing. The poetic voice of children, in books like Koch's and Kozol's "Amazing Grace," and in a host of unexpected places ("let those who have ears, hear," the line goes), can help to counter some of the silencing, disenfranchisement, and outright violence our society perpetrates against children.
I believe there is tremendous value in reading children poems written by other children (and in children reading their own poems aloud as well), including those which have actually been published and purchased by adults. Not that this latter sort of imprimatur truly gives the words value, but that: (a) it exhibits the instrinsic value of children's poetry/words in tangible forms--money and formal publication--of what adults count as
"valuable," and, (b) it seems a very concrete example that adults and children can, and need to, take seriously the words and lives of children. To fail to listen to their voices, to their poetry, is to lose a great piece of the truth about this world--as if the moon were always to shine no more than three-quarters full...or far less.
These words about children and poetry, of course, apply to a wide range of other muffled voices and subjects in poetry and the world (i.e. issues of gender, class, multiculturalism, sexual orientation, physical and mental ability, the whole spectrum of age, and almost any other voice we are prone to passively forget or actively stifle). Not long ago, "Black Voices," Arnold Adoff--mentioned in today's CCBC emails--Nikki Giovanni, and Langston Hughes (whose poems are also wonderful for children and adults) would not be seen on mainstream shelves. Yet such poetry still faces serious barriers, and calls for our advocacy.
The old slogan "Silence = Death"--without minimizing any of its specific reference to murderous wrongs committed against LGBT people, from biblical times to Auschwitz and on into our present--goes far beyond the pink triangle. We are all in this together, and as go the children, and their words, so goes the society. And that for all other suppressed voices and peoples as well. But these voices will not stand to be ultimately silenced. To read the poetry of children written in the Nazi concentration camps, as in "I Never Saw Another Butterfly," is to know that this is true. But too many voices and too much poetry are lost in the meantime.
I have used Koch's book with children, and seen their wonder in words of others "like them." One boy--labeled as a poor student, and who said he couldn't write a poem--wrote one of the most wonderful and poignant poems I have ever read. My wonder in his poem--the wonder his poem inspired in me-sparked something in his heart. And he went on to write other poems, ones that weren't required or even asked for...except by something in himself, something he discovered that he was sure wasn't there at all. That is part of the miracle of poetry--a miracle too often lost to us as we blunder about, grown so concerned with "matters of consequence" and so insensitive to the
"childish" dreams and wonders that dwell in us still.
Helping children enjoy poetry--and their own ability to create poetry--is a good work...a candle against the darkness. A poet I heard once spoke of poetry at its heart being a matter of "speaking the truth." And truth, like a diamond, has many facets. But spoken, recorded on tape, read aloud, read silently on a page, or created on a fresh sheet of paper, poetry can be a powerful and liberating force in all our lives--from birth to death. If we let it. If we don't kill it, or let it be killed, in and around us.
"Snow makes whiteness where it falls.
The bushes look like popcorn balls.
And every place I always play
looks like somewhere else today."
Thank you, Brent. I hope you're still writing, wherever you are.
Peace.
Mark
Mark Berge, '98 School of Library and Information Studies (SLIS) University of Wisconsin--Madison
930 S BROOKS ST #4 MADISON WI 5371579
(608) 259?27
Received on Mon 10 Feb 1997 11:04:31 PM CST
Date: Mon, 10 Feb 1997 23:04:31 -0600 (CST)
Dear CCBC community,
I suppose an introduction is in order, since I'm just a babe in this virtual section of woods. My name is Mark Berge, and I'm in my first year of the UW-Madison Master's program in Library and Information Studies. Please don't ask which sub-area of the field I'm headed toward; I'd have to give you five different answers. In one of my favorite lines from reggae artist Jimmy Cliff, "Time will tell." But to the point--which is Poetry.
When I was a boy, I met a book that significantly influenced my lifelong interest in words, poetry, and humor. I certainly would never argue that this work's collection of poems could stand up to something of the beauty of Byrd Baylor's work (for any who haven't read her words...they are deeply wonderful. Her excellent "Everybody Needs a Rock" prompts me to the declaration that "Everybody needs Byrd Baylor."). Nevertheless, after reading the 2/9/97 email contribution from the fingers of "Walter the Giant Storyteller" (and what a large computer you must use, Walter...), I was reminded again of the importance of humor, and sheer enjoyment of language and subject, as crucial elements in effectively inviting children into the realm of poetry.
The book? "Beastly Boys and Ghastly Girls" by Cole and Ungerer. I still laugh when rolling its poems through my brain, or even just seeing its cover. Yes; the poems are rather "nasty" at times--even grisly. But I loved them when I was a child, and have seen children of the next generation respond as I did to them. And as Walter points out, such strange and rambunctious words can serve as a gateway for children into a world they might otherwise ignore.
Kimberley King's email (2/10/97) takes us the next step further: that there is a certain stigma attached to poetry--it isn't "cool" and kids don't want to be thought "that" kind of person. Yet Shel Silverstein (mentioned by Walter) can be "cool." Funny, weird, and even macabre poetry can catch the fancy of children--even little boys who think of poetry as "cissy." I only vaguely recall textbook poetry from elementary school; but I clearly remember, to this day, whole chunks of nonsense verse from Edward Lear, Lewis Carroll, and "Beastly Boys and Ghastly Girls." So if you don't know of Cole and Ungerer's book, see if it might be tucked away on your library shelves--maybe misfiled somewhere between "Jabberwocky" and "Jumblies."
In a more "enlightened" vein, I would vigorously submit "Wishes, Lies, and Dreams" by Kenneth Koch. Again, for those who don't know it, the book is basically a collection of poems written by children in Koch's "poet in the school" workshops. Aside from the beauty of the poems, the thing I esteem most highly in this book is the value it quietly places on the words of children.
So much calls for the silence of children in our society, and declares that their interests, perspectives, and even their very lives are "irrelevant,"
"ridiculous," "impractical," and of little value. I think of the many wise words of Saint-Exupery's "The Little Prince" in this moment, and then of the way we carve our national budget in the next. Other examples abound of our foolish and cruel treatment of children--both abuse and neglect. Hearing Jonathan Kozol a few months ago deepened my sense of this, in ways which were sad and heartening in one; I recommend him also in the strongest way for your "adult" reading--if there really is such a thing. The poetic voice of children, in books like Koch's and Kozol's "Amazing Grace," and in a host of unexpected places ("let those who have ears, hear," the line goes), can help to counter some of the silencing, disenfranchisement, and outright violence our society perpetrates against children.
I believe there is tremendous value in reading children poems written by other children (and in children reading their own poems aloud as well), including those which have actually been published and purchased by adults. Not that this latter sort of imprimatur truly gives the words value, but that: (a) it exhibits the instrinsic value of children's poetry/words in tangible forms--money and formal publication--of what adults count as
"valuable," and, (b) it seems a very concrete example that adults and children can, and need to, take seriously the words and lives of children. To fail to listen to their voices, to their poetry, is to lose a great piece of the truth about this world--as if the moon were always to shine no more than three-quarters full...or far less.
These words about children and poetry, of course, apply to a wide range of other muffled voices and subjects in poetry and the world (i.e. issues of gender, class, multiculturalism, sexual orientation, physical and mental ability, the whole spectrum of age, and almost any other voice we are prone to passively forget or actively stifle). Not long ago, "Black Voices," Arnold Adoff--mentioned in today's CCBC emails--Nikki Giovanni, and Langston Hughes (whose poems are also wonderful for children and adults) would not be seen on mainstream shelves. Yet such poetry still faces serious barriers, and calls for our advocacy.
The old slogan "Silence = Death"--without minimizing any of its specific reference to murderous wrongs committed against LGBT people, from biblical times to Auschwitz and on into our present--goes far beyond the pink triangle. We are all in this together, and as go the children, and their words, so goes the society. And that for all other suppressed voices and peoples as well. But these voices will not stand to be ultimately silenced. To read the poetry of children written in the Nazi concentration camps, as in "I Never Saw Another Butterfly," is to know that this is true. But too many voices and too much poetry are lost in the meantime.
I have used Koch's book with children, and seen their wonder in words of others "like them." One boy--labeled as a poor student, and who said he couldn't write a poem--wrote one of the most wonderful and poignant poems I have ever read. My wonder in his poem--the wonder his poem inspired in me-sparked something in his heart. And he went on to write other poems, ones that weren't required or even asked for...except by something in himself, something he discovered that he was sure wasn't there at all. That is part of the miracle of poetry--a miracle too often lost to us as we blunder about, grown so concerned with "matters of consequence" and so insensitive to the
"childish" dreams and wonders that dwell in us still.
Helping children enjoy poetry--and their own ability to create poetry--is a good work...a candle against the darkness. A poet I heard once spoke of poetry at its heart being a matter of "speaking the truth." And truth, like a diamond, has many facets. But spoken, recorded on tape, read aloud, read silently on a page, or created on a fresh sheet of paper, poetry can be a powerful and liberating force in all our lives--from birth to death. If we let it. If we don't kill it, or let it be killed, in and around us.
"Snow makes whiteness where it falls.
The bushes look like popcorn balls.
And every place I always play
looks like somewhere else today."
Thank you, Brent. I hope you're still writing, wherever you are.
Peace.
Mark
Mark Berge, '98 School of Library and Information Studies (SLIS) University of Wisconsin--Madison
930 S BROOKS ST #4 MADISON WI 5371579
(608) 259?27
Received on Mon 10 Feb 1997 11:04:31 PM CST
