Here are notes from Elizabeth Winston, a teacher at Creative Writing Camp:
During the first week in my 7th/8th grade Creative Writing Camp class, my teaching partner and I had the students work on writing short stories. This week, we shifted the focus to poetry. What’s interesting about having students try their hand at different kinds of writing is watching them each discover what kinds of writing they truly like to do – what inspires them, what they feel they’re good at. Some of our students immediately got very involved in working on their short stories, and were anxious to get back to them when we moved to poetry.
One student, however, took us by surprise. This particular boy– his name is Alex – told us on the first day that his dream is to be a fiction writer. We assumed he’d be one of the ones that wanted to get back to his short story. What he brought to me today to type up for the classroom anthology, though, were two poems. I asked him if he had written poetry before, and he shook his head no.
“I don’t know if I’m doing it right,” he told me. “But I really like it.” In his eyes was an excited light – he had been inspired by the poetry we’d read and discussed in class, and nodded eagerly when I offered to give him the titles of several books of poetry I thought he might enjoy. Alex had discovered a new love, which will hopefully be a lifelong one. For me, the kind of excitement I saw in him is the greatest reward of teaching writing.
We’re Built Like Horses
We are built like horses,
Strong, free and stubborn,
Our manes meant to feel the wind
But we were not born as such
We do not live with tenderness or freedom
Because we were born into bondage
Unto fingers cold to the touch
Every step is planned
Every stray is punished
In a land ruled by the likes of injustice
Where lies spread like fires to an open plain
Speech is not free
Every word has a price
And we are afraid to speak
For our words are their scripts
We are not us
But those that they want us to be
Shackled by the atrocities of their rule
Under an oath to be their servants
So, I say, they must be cast away
Replaced with those true in heart
Overrun by those with knowledge and goodness
So that they may be realized as the monsters they are
Whey we finally open our eyes
The people will be free
Our ignorance will fade
And the sun will shine again
We are built like horses,
Strong, free, and stubborn
Truly free at last, horses we can be
By Alex