My guest this week on Poetry from Daily Life is Heidi Mordhorst, who lives in Silver Spring, Maryland, a short bike ride from Washington, DC. Heidi began writing poems at an early age and prefers to let a poem decide its own form. Current projects include publishing an online magazine of poetry written by children ages 4 to 11 (WHISPERshout Magazine) and find ways to use poetry to address the climate crisis. A unique fact about Heidi is that she used to sit and write on a green couch that was once owned by Ezra Jack Keats, whose birthday she shares. ~ David L. Harrison
Since I (mostly) retired from public school classrooms, I tell people that my job now is to “teach poetry to children.” This is not strictly true. Sure, I build poetry workshops, giving them a theme, large windows that open to the outside, some carefully chosen artwork on the walls, a simple soundtrack. Everyone has access to the toolbox, even the sharp tools. But mainly what I do is open the door and invite them in, saying: “You are the boss of your poem.”
Children today own very little. With few exceptions, their time is not their own, and if some time is available, it is brief. Agency is scarce both at school (written curricula) and at home (structured schedules). So when I say, “You are the boss of your poem,” the frisson of freedom that runs through the group is palpable.
“So I don’t have to write about the moon?” asks a child obsessed with a certain video game.
“No,” I reply. “You can write about whatever you want.”
“Can I write about my dog instead of the water?” asks another.
“Yes,” I say, “you can write about whatever is bubbling in your ears, in your brain, or in your heart.”
Suddenly, even for the reluctant, the insecure and the lame, writing poetry seems like the most possible thing. For those who are fickle, trusting, skillful, the dam of the constituency breaks and poems flood the plain:
Wolf
(By Lorenzo, 5)
The wolf running towards him
forest.
The wolf jumps on him
rock.
The wolf goes even deeper into the
forest.
Small animals that shine like leaves.
They are coming down from the trees.
The moon shines.
Explore
(By Lily and Maya, 6)
through the vines in the world towards the sun to explore and find peace the leaves as in fire through the trees in my bed I heard a beat of petals of fire burst like fire of peace for joy explore the world to see you to yourself
‘I want to meet you.’
(By Ollie, 7)
People call me pretty. Thanks for the compliment. I don’t like so much attention. I will never move from this place in my entire life. My species is in danger of extinction, but you can help. My name is Coral. What is yours?
I love the weather
(By Safí, 8)
I love the weather
I change
the weather changes
faster is like
a race I can’t win
I can’t speed up
or slow down
the weather wins
when my days are done
Poems
(By Kellan, 7)
The poems are like
peace of mind just not
very quiet
◆◆◆
By opening the workshop door and offering agency within a safe space (plus some timely individual coaching), I do not “teach poetry.” I invite young people to discover a deep and authentic personal freedom, writing themselves and their world to become a brighter being. That’s why I publish WHISPERshout Magazineand why I defend Poetry and Justice for All.
Heidi Mordhorst is the author of two collections of poetry for young readers and contributions to magazines and anthologies for both adults and children, most recently “Poetry by Chance” (Button Poetry, ed. Taylor Mali) and “Dear Human on the Edge of “Time.” : Poems about climate change in the US.” (Paloma Press, ed. Luisa Igloria et al). She has taught classrooms for 35 years and recently served on the NCTE Award for Excellence in Poetry Committee.
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