And Again At Last We Ask: What Is Poetry?

Ms. Widman

High School Creative Writing 

This week the students at Amundsen approached our next to last class with the same question we started with: what is poetry? We read “Build, Now, a Monument” by Matthew Olzmann and were tasked with writing a poem in any format, style, stanza/line length that just aimed to answer what is poetry and what they’ve learned in our time together. Every poem knocked the breath out of me. I am going to miss seeing these talented young writers every week. This summer there will be a whole crew of young writers looking out onto the lake and thinking: it’s so beautiful today; it could be a poem.















“Toppled Trash Can”

By Asher D.


A perfect subject to a piece.

A beautiful bouquet of fresh pink flowers–

will disclose your brush strokes

rushed and sloppy

smooshed into the image of a wet pom-pom.

Why not paint a toppled trash can?

To highlight every beautiful stroke. 

































“The Wildest Writer”

by Raul M.


A boy didn’t find everything interesting.


To him, he and everything just existed.


But when he read a poem,


everything went from gray to full of colors.


Eager upon this discovery, he read more,


as time rapidly ticked, ticked, and ticked.


The boy loved the stories, especially 


the word choices the author used.


He wanted to learn more as he decided


that he too wanted to create his own world.


During the night, he never stopped on his 


research, like a wolf claiming his prey. 


He wanted to become the best,


and he knew that in order to do that, he needed


to give everything he got, as people waited


to become the best striker


for their home country.


The next day, as the clock was about to wake


him up, it was the boy that woke the clock up.


He heads out for the day, eager to start


his journey, as the protagonist and antagonist


walk to achieve their goal.


And that is Why I Write.






























































“A Mix, And a Half of Me”

By Taya C.


Poetry writes its own words

and I stand there waiting,

I listen


to the rhyme schemes it creates

and the beat it invisibly bops to


poetry wants to pour out

my mind and heart


since my mind tells me no

but my heart says yes


I mix them both into

a bowl of maybe

there’s a possibility


Poetry gives us a chance




“Writing poetry makes me feel like I can see myself, like I can see my reflection, but not in a mirror, in the world. I write and I know I can be reflected.”
-Oscar S.

“Writing poetry makes me feel free.”
-Buenda D.

“Writing poetry is like your best friend.”
-Jessica M.