Sad news to hear of Prince’s passing. 1999, Raspberry Beret and Little Red Corvette are three I really love to hear especially when they surprise me on the radio in the car. My favorite has always been When Doves Cry. Something in the line “that is what it sounds like when doves cry” has always stirred a deep and longing emotion in my heart. I always felt more than the literal meaning. Something much more poetic.
A little over a year ago I was working with 4th graders in enrichment on free verse poetry. I read the poem Caged Bird by Maya Angelou to them. We discussed it and then attempted to write poems titled “I Know Why.” We would write one as a group and then attempt one individually – including me. To write the group poem, we used a simplified version of an activity my son experienced in college called “Poetry Bingo.” We folded a blank paper into about 16 squares. Each student wrote a word or two (animals in this case) in one box. In the college version, each student gets there own page and writes a poem. We wrote one together with each contributing a line, and I would contribute the last line.
When I thought about my line for “I Know Why,” When Doves Cry and the line “that is what it sounds like when doves cry” came to mind. And, for some reason, in that moment with those students, I understood what I heard and connected to in those words. So, somewhere between the gifts of Maya Angelou and Prince, my line became “the dove cries because she hears songs in the rain.” Here is our poem (my 8 students and me) from spring 2015:
I Know Why
By FPS 4th Grade Poetry Group 4 & sidonamarie
The bee stings
Because it is mad.
The snail glides
Because it is very slick.
The goose honks
Because it is warning.
The butterfly flies
Because it wants to find food.
The cat purrs
Because it likes you.
The mongoose catches snakes
Because he eats them for breakfast.
The dog barks
Because he is happy to see you.
The wolf howls
Because there is a full moon.
The dove cries
Because she hears songs in the rain.
My poetry has been my therapy over the years. In 1993, an unusual traumatic event occurred with me. Poetry over the years has been my sorting out process. I have always had a strong spiritual nature balanced by strong doubt. During period of tremendous confusion, my poetry (sometimes more like stories my son thinks) helped me remember who I am, how I feel, and what I think and always have from a child. The theme I hope comes through is that we should not have our heads too far into the clouds or too deeply into the dirt. Life lives as balance somewhere in the middle with little visits to both edges. All 56 years of my life I have lived in Michigan. I was born in Kalamazoo September 16, 1958. My parents separated when I was young do to my mother’s mental illness. Dad died in 1965 at 29 from a cerebral hemorrhage. I was 6 when he passed. Grandma Peggy (my dad’s mother) went to court 7 times in a year and a half to fight for my younger sister (Kim who was mentally impaired) and me, because my dad had asked her too. She won custody of us. So, I lived with her in Bangor, Michigan through high school and college. I didn’t begin to write poetry until I went to live with my aunt (my mother’s sister) in Wartervliet, Michigan while attending Lake Michigan College in Benton Harbor. My aunt lived near my mother and her mother (my Grandma Elsie). After 2 years there, I attended Western Michigan University in Kalamazoo. I graduated with a Bachelor of Arts major in English and minor in Elementary Education. Right out of college fall of 1984 I was hired at St. Mary’s in Paw Paw, Michigan as a kindergarten teacher. I taught kindergarten for 1 year half days and was moved into a full-time first grade position for three years. I met my husband Gary during that time. On October 17, 1987, we married and I moved to Fennville, Michigan where I still live. Gary and I have a son age 24 and a daughter age 19.
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