Over the past few weeks, we've been immersed in poetry. We've read poems, we've deconstructed poems, worked hard at interpreting poems, and written a great deal of poems as well.
Last month, on our way back from the Dance Recital at Earl Haig, Mathew W. and Ryan were sitting across from me on the bus. I told them how I was reading a book called Last Child in the Woods - a book about the importance of getting kids outdoors and exploring nature. The author believes that children are being sheltered indoors too much and turning into zombie couch potatoes. To this, they responded by telling me an elaborate story about a ravine that they play in. In this ravine, magical adventures come to life. They've seen all kinds of wildlife up close and they've built a fort. It was a great true-life story. The next day, Mathew began writing an epic poem about it. Like any great writer, he blocked out all distractions and put all of his thoughts and creativity into crafting his poem. He went back and revised, taking out unnecessary words and adding a word here or there that would bring the woodlands vividly to life on page. Without further adieu, here's Mathew's spare, but beautiful poem. I think this should win an award. Don't you?
The Fort
I walk from my house as quiet as a mouse
We sneak from our friends through all the dead ends
Now we're at the fort
It is not short
Now we sort the tools
Trust me I am no fool
Now we go fishing for crawfish
We put the crawfish on a big dish and set them free
This is the place I want to be
I go to the creek and let out a shriek when I see a deer
I see its fear then it runs away
Next we go to the lake
It is no fake
I climb the tree so I can see the amazing view
Suddenly we hear a crack near our little shack
It was just a stray cat and it is not fat
It was cute
Now the sound is back to a mute
I cross the bridge and use the raft to send sticks
To the other side of the creek
Then Ryan adds them to the hut
I have a hunch it is time for lunch
We go back to the house as quiet as a mouse
And then eat lunch
We come back from lunch and back to the fort
We lie down and watch the creek go by as it sings a soft song
It is time to go back home
We go to my house as quiet as a mouse
We sneak past our friends threw all the dead ends
This place is for me.
- Mathew White
