Ars Poetica

Ms. Widman

High School Creative Writing 


This week the students at Amundsen got deep then went even deeper. We explored the Ars Poetica form and talked about urgency in writing. We read “Blk Grl Art” by Jamila Woods and I brought in my own poem (“Ars Poetica: We’ll Take Our Turn, Singing/ Dirty Rap Songs”). It was such a joy to share my own writing with them and boy howdy did they light up when I showed them how it’s done. We brainstormed what we write in opposition of and in support of. We did a brief Dada exercise to incorporate found language into their work. I am so proud of the Ars Poeticas I am publishing this week.


I don’t have the room to be vulnerable

by Asher D.


I don’t have the room to be vulnerable.

Why should I make a varvel to my war

with bright digestible colors

when my sinking ship of problems on a dark

dingy sea is picked up like a rubber

ducky. When I spill to you with

honest words.

I call my Hotline,

tell her, “I feel like my whole life I’ve been

the butt of the joke.”

And she laughs.

I can’t just write about that.





Poems Are For Everyone

by Dom H.


Whether you’re a snowman

on the beach,

or just some sawdust.

We all live on the same rock.






A Poem Can Be Audible and Silent

by Sophia P.


A  poem can be audible and silent.

A poem should be static in space.

Nothing, nada.

The moon’s ascent

as the moon releases, we depart.

A poem ought to be equivalent to: a wishbone,

a representation of imagination (hope),

for all of grieving’s past,

a maple leaf and that of an unoccupied doorway.






I Used To Let It Get To Me

by Leonardo E.


Why I stutter, I don’t know

I started when I was five

You could call me a survivalist

My tears covered my face everytime it happened

My words felt like mangled debris

The love I had for myself was fading

My ruddy face showed my weakness

If you want you can call me a chicken

I know people try to understand

But secretly it bothers everyone

However I don’t care

I’m the chicken if I let it get to me

You can try to make fun of it

If you’re a jerk of course

But it won’t even hit a nerve






Poetry Duet

by Raul M.


Air touching me with its naked hands on my cheeks,

flowing between the scales of my friend dragon.

We travel in the sky, with the smiling at us

noting down the cool blue with my friend flapping

its wings, birds flying with us.


Looking down, I see my people and my friends,

people as feeble ants crawling to their hill.

Looking back he seems to be writing, as I

wonder: how is he still holding his papers?



“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.