‘We crawl underneath…’: Table Talk

As we continue distance instruction, students at Taft Freshman Academy continue to generate beautiful poems!  This week’s poems are inspired by Joy Harjo’s poem, Perhaps the World Ends Here

Lesson Note: ‘In a time of crisis, poetry can help focus our fears and transform ‘noise into music’ … In effect, poetry “aims in every possible way to reaffirm the world that we actually inhabit, in all its vital, messy, beautiful, tragic reality. Mar 10, 2020, The Washington Post.

Ms. Munoz, 9th Grade
Period One

At my Table
By Wellington J.

Phone calls are made
At this table

Decisions are made
At this table

Food disappears
At this table

Arguments are made
At this table

Learning goes on
At this table

Very deep talks
At this table

Love is shown
At this table

At this table family lives on
By Amelia G.

We make polish food at this table
Loud laughs and happy smiles shine at this table
Sorrow still lives at this table but light carries on

We talk of worries and troubles at this table
We talk about the solutions to those troubles and worries at this table
We put away the devices that distract us everyday at this table

We make the time to build relationships at this table
We take these memories made and cherish them at this table
We make our family feel loved and strong at this table

Ms. Munoz, 7th Grade
Period Two

By Oliver K.

At this table we discuss, discuss life, politics, and arguments\

We gobble our food, we inhale water, and we laugh

At this table we fight, about random things, we laugh we cry

We plan our futures, we dream

At this table we dream

Dream about the future and what is to come

At this table we conversate


At this table
By Madeline K.

At this table
We discuss our days
We paint our memories for others to see

At this table
We share in the
Bountiful food that has been prepared

At this table
We open letters from family and friends
Telling of their adventures
And wishing us well

At this table
We work
To earn the food that feeds us

At this table
We are together

Ms. Munoz, 7th Grade
Period Five

My very own symphony
By Roxana C.

This table has been there for us at all times.

We’ve celebrated special events at this table,
We’ve argued at this table,
We’ve become strong at this table.

Laughter and joy are shared at this table
Tears and yells have pooled up at this table
Pep talks have been given at this table
We’ve become strong at this table

This table had endured everything with us,
If there was any way
ANY way
that I could thank this table for everything,

Where We Live
By Max S.

The table is where it starts.

We create at this table,
We share at this table,
We come back to this table after a long day of work,

We make jokes at this table,
We heal at this table,
We make sure the table is ready so we feast,

We share stories at this table,
We laugh and cry at this table,
We have strict rules to follow even after celebrations,

We cheer at this table,
We yell at this table,
We play games at this table,

This table is where we live

Ms. Munoz, 9th Grade
Period Six

Where to Go?
By Jessie N.

We have all kinds of tables in our home. From small to big, square, round, short, or tall. We don’t judge.

We have our favorites. For me, my table is my favorite.

Here at my table, I can clearly and do my homework at the same time.

Here at my table, I can doodle in my sketchbook, homework, math notebook, any kinds of paper that you could think of.

Here at my table, I leave my junk and my mess behind for my future self to clean after.

Why at the table do we get together to eat, enjoy, talk, or celebrate? Why not on the floor? Or on the porch?

Does it really matter?

You decide where to go.

For me, anywhere is fine. As long as I’m with someone to enjoy the day with.

At the dining room table
By Alany B.

At the dining room table is where it all happens.
We laugh at the dining room table.
We interact with each other while enjoying a meal.
We smile and make jokes at this table.
Letters are written to people hoping we will one day meet in person.
All of us enjoy what was placed in front of us, not what could be.
Friends have become closer at this table.
Spills and accidents have been made at this table.
The moment is enjoyed.

Sometimes we cry at this table.
We fear change might come at this dining room table

Ms. Munoz, 7th Grade
Period Eight

Losing the day on a cold table
By Andrew P.

Most nights are empty, the table is small.
On Fridays we leave the small brown table,
And arrive at the large one,
A different one.

We crawl underneath this table,
We play Uno at this table,and we slam on the table,
And we steal each other’s shoes under the table.

We reach for the fridge on this table, we reach for our cards on this table,
We are so dramatic at this table,
We hide the bags under our eyes at this table,
This table is cold, we lay our faces on this table.

We lose ourselves in this table,
Nothing matters as we leave this table,

Empty Table
By Lily M.

My mother works late into the night. And though not as often, my father does too.
So on most nights, the kitchen table is empty, lacking people to fill it.
Even on nights where we are all here, the unfamiliarity of it drives us away.
My sister lays on the couch, the unnatural glare of the tv screen framing her face, dinner plate in hand.
My father is in his office, tap-tap-tapping away at his keyboard, the unnatural glare of the computer screen bouncing off his glasses- his dinner next to him on the table.
My mother, at work, not even getting the chance to eat until she gets home, in the early hours of the day.
And me, up and away, hidden in my room, the unnatural glare of my phone screen lighting up my face, seated at the table there. Alone.



“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.