Activity 1
---Read the poem below about a man remembering a strong memory from
when he was fifteen. In your journal, answer the questions at the
end of the poem.
---Then, using Stafford's poem as a model, write your own poem, in
which you capture the essence of a certain age. Your poem should
consist of:
*** 3 stanzas, 4 lines each
*** A refrain, i.e. "I was fifteen"
Fifteen
William Stafford
South of the Bridge on Seventeenth
I found back of the willows one summer
day a motorcycle with engine running
as it lay on its side, ticking over
slowly in the high grass. I was fifteen.
I admired all that pulsing gleam, the
shiny flanks, the demure headlights
fringed where it lay; I led it gently
to the road and stood with that
companion, ready and friendly. I was fifteen.
We could find the end of the road, meet
the sky on out Seventeenth. I thought about
hills, and patting the handle got back a
confident opinion. On the bridge we indulged
a forward feeling, a tremble. I was fifteen.
Thinking, back farther in the grass I found
the owner, just coming to, where he had flipped
over the rail. He had blood on his hand, was pale...
I helped him walk to his machine. He ran his hand
over it, called me a good man, roared away.
I stood there, fifteen.
Questions:
1. What perspective is being employed in this poem?
2. In your opinion, what is the mood of this poem? Use
lines, words, images, etc. from the poem to support your answer.
3. Why do you think that author repeats the line "I was fifteen"
throughout the poem? What effect does it create?
Now, write your own poem
by modeling "Fifteen." Think about an age or event that was really
meaningful and memorable to you. Ask yourself why that age/memory
is so clear to you. Think about specific details, images, people, places, etc. to include in your
poem. To give you another idea, look at one student's poem below.
Example:
Thirteen
On those sunny golden summer afternoons
I'd watch the light glisten off the metal bat.
Busy positioning myself by 3rd base,
The sunlight trickled down my steaming
face. I was thirteen.
On those crisp fall nights
I'd watch my brother carry the football
Under streaming lights
With thoughts of homework and tests
I'd savor each cool breath of that
Friday night air. And I was thirteen.
On those freezing wintry
nights, I'd be packed in a small
car to be transported to our weekly
basketball games. I'd go out
and do my best, but
never satisfied. I was thirteen.
On those breezy, cool spring days
I'd be anxious for the end of school
and the crave the freedom of summer.
I'd leave school with a sense of accomplishment
and dream of what the future held for me.
