Part One

Family Portraits in Words

 

                                                                        The poet must learn to focus almost like a camera, framing a shot in order

                                                            to capture a specific moment in a person’s life that characterizes and re-creates

                                                            the whole person. Senses and emotions surrounding that moment give a more

                                                            profound dimension to the subject of the poem.

                                                                        In “Family Tree,” Kate Rushin speaks in the vernacular about her

                                                            Grandmother. This poem dwells less on physical detail than on the actions

                                                            of the grandmother.

                                                                        The grandmother means to pass down a value system through specific

                                                            object symbols. What unique traits or interests about your own grandparents

                                                            have made an impression on you or changed how you function in your community?

 

                                                            Family Tree

                                                            I come from

                                                            A long line of

                                                            Uppity irate Black Women

                                                            Although they were

                                                            Church People

                                                            And I’m the only one

                                                            Who drinks and cusses

                                                            When they got on the warpath

                                                            let me tell you

                                                            They had no match

                                                            You think I’m bold

                                                            Imagine my grandmother Addie

                                                            Raising her umpteen children

                                                            During the Depression

                                                            Imagine the audacity of

                                                            This woman who only

                                                            Went to the third grade

                                                            Joining The-Book-Of-The-Month Club

                                                            She gave me a six volume set of

                                                            The World’s Best Poetry

                                                            When I was seven years old

                                                            When I was nine

                                                            My grandmother sent

                                                            A coupon and one dollar to

                                                            Nabisco Shredded Wheat

                                                            They sent her a knife

                                                            And fork and spoon

                                                            She kept them in a yellow

                                                            Envelope in the dish closet drawer

                                                            She would say they were for me

                                                            For when I went away to college

                                                            I didn’t know what it meant exactly

                                                            But I would open the drawer

                                                            And look at them

                                                            And it made me feel

                                                            Real Good

                                                            And you ask me how come

                                                            I think I’m so cute

                                                            Nowadays

                                                            I cultivate

                                                            Being Uppity

                                                            It’s something

                                                            My Grandmom taught me

                                                            It’s about time I learned

                                                            My lesson.

 

                                                                        ----Kate Rushin

 

 

Kate Rushin

Director, Center for African American Studies
Adjunct Assistant Professor and Visiting Writer in African American Studies
Kate Rushin is an Adjunct Assistant Professor and Visiting Writer in African American Studies. A distinguished poet and teacher, Kate Rushin's first book of poems, The Black Back-Ups, was published in 1993. Professor Rushin received her B.A. degree from Oberlin College and M.F.A. in Creative Writing from Brown University. Her courses are African American Women Writers, and Poetry Writing Workshop. Among her numerous awards are the Drylongso Award, the Grolier Poetry Prize, and she received an honorable mention in the 1994 Galway Kinnell Poetry Contest. Her poems have appeared in many journals and anthologies, including Ms. Magazine, Callaloo, and Home Girls: A Black Feminist Anthology. [email protected]

 

ASSIGNMENT:        Choose a person in your family or someone you know well and create a portrait with words.

                                    Choose a setting in which to place this person, such as at home, at school, at play or in the

                                    context of a social event or family affair. This setting becomes the backdrop to your family

                                    portrait and helps bring the portrait to life. Senses, similes and metaphors will bring color,

                                    texture, and style to your portrait. You might try a poem which represents a teenage point

                                    of view in coping with parents. Use an example of personification in your poem and underline it.

 

REQUIREMENTS:                                     Title your poem creatively.

                                                                        Use your imagination.

                                                                        Word process your writing and save it

                                                                                    in your poetry folder entitled “Part One-Family Portrait”.

                                                                        Illustrate your poem neatly and in color on the paper provided.

 

Student Example                   The Mother,

 

                                                The sweetest, most understanding person,

                                                like what a candy can be,

                                                her sweet and penetrating glance like

                                                that of an eagle, her heart

                                                strong and vigorous capable of supporting

                                                any pain. If I had any power

                                                I would search the universe

                                                for some star that could signify

                                                her great love.

                                                            Every time I see you in a photo

                                                I remember the days when you and I

                                                would go to bed so late studying math,

                                                every time I see myself in the mirror,

                                                your sweet face is reflected and it brings me

                                                a great sensation of sadness to not have

                                                you here with me.

                                                                       

                                                            ---Rafael Angarita