Directions: Please peruse the following poetry reading opportunities, below. Let me know if, at this time, you may have an interest in participating. Next, please read some of my work below. I share it with you because I am going to ask you to do the same and I feel it is only fair that I do so. Also, I would like to show you my process and some of the possibilities that are out there for poets. In this blog space, please share any thoughts and reflections you have about your relationship with poetry, the prospect of writing and reading poems in class, the possibility of performing in front of a live audience, comments on the upcoming events, and comments on the work I shared with you.
I look forward to your responses,
Mr. P.
11th Annual AHS Poetry Night
Here is the flyer written by founder Harry Durso (on the right): The Robert Frost Foundation, has invited students and teachers from Andover High School to participate in a special 11th Anniversary Poetry Night at Café Azteca in Lawrence on Tuesday, March 10, 2020 at 7:00 PM. The event will be hosted by former AHS Teacher Harry J. Durso . The AHS Poetry Night is sponsored by LA VENTURE. Video Production is sponsored by Joe Spanos Productions. English Teacher, Eric Pellerin, will coordinate the event for Andover High School.
We are planning on videotaping this event for a later showing on Andover Public Access TV and local cable access stations in Lawrence and Methuen and on You Tube.
This is a Robert Frost Foundation event that is open to the public and is being held at a full service restaurant that is open for business during the poetry reading.
The student’s best behavior is expected.
Café Azteca is located at 180 Common Street in Lawrence and is easy to get to with off street parking nearby. Instructions and a map are also available on their web site. Although the street area outside the restaurant is supervised, you are asked not to leave valuables in your car.
Parents are welcome and encouraged to attend. Please be aware that the content of some of the poetry performed later in the evening may have adult themes.
If you plan on eating at Café Azteca, please arrive around 6:00 PM so as to be finished before the reading begins. You are welcome to make reservations by calling Café Azteca and mentioning that you will be part of the poetry reading.
Café Azteca is open for business and food and beverages are available during the event, but the participants are responsible for their own expenses.
Students are expected to provide their own transportation due to school rules. Students should call their parents when the reading is over as this will be an undetermined time. This is a Robert Frost Foundation public event.
Other poets from the Merrimack Valley will read after the Andover High School portion of the event is over.
Students are expected to provide their own transportation due to school rules. Students should call their parents when the reading is over as this will be an undetermined time. This is a Robert Frost Foundation public event.
Other poets from the Merrimack Valley will read after the Andover High School portion of the event is over.
El Taller of Lawrence
From the website: Fueling the pulse of creativity through literacy, community gatherings, conversation and good food. El Taller offers an Open Mic from 7:30 - 11 pm every third Thursday. I am hoping to take a group on March 19th! Visit their website here.
MassLeap Youth Poetry Competition
Overview from MassLeap website: From 2012 to 2018, The Louder Than A Bomb Massachusetts Youth Poetry Slam Festival succeeded in bringing young people together across geographic, racial, cultural and socio-economic lines. LTAB (a city wide poetry slam model founded in Chicago in 2001) is a friendly competition that emphasizes self-expression and community via poetry, oral story-telling, and hip-hop spoken word. Over the course of 7 years, Mass LEAP served over 1,000 teens and educators through this festival, featuring poetry slam competitions, writing & performance workshops, panels, special partnership opportunities and professional development for coach-educators. The festival went on hiatus in 2019. Mass LEAP hosted several community conversations to help re-name, re-brand and re-envision how a youth poetry festival can better serve the unique needs of our communities. Wicked Loud Festiva will work do further de-emphasize the competition by offering more generative workshops, non-competitive open mics, themed panels and opening pathways for young people to reflect on how their writing can lead to stronger communities. Visit their website, here.
My Work
“the prayer of the smoker”
by eric pellerin
(from Merrimack
Literary Review ed. by Ron Howland & Greg Waters, 2004)
dear god
it is i
a subhuman
sneaking outside
civilization to smoke a butt
the december wind
cuts my face
as do the sharp
glances of the passers by
passing judgment
with their pretty pink lungs ripe
with self
righteous indignation
having visited
the oracle who told them
you will live forever
wanna smoke with
me lord
i heard you hang
with the lepers beggars and whores
wanna slum a bit
further down the ladder
take one
lets breathe in
together
place the camels
to our thirsty lips
no filters
no lights
no ultra lights
low tar
no tar
no way
wusses
right god
quiet now
lets bring the
matches to our lips
inhale
hold it now
let tobey and
nicky work their magic on our iron lungs
hold it now
breathe it all in
ill breathe in
the endless piles of paperwork
you breathe in
the 100 years war
hold it now
ill breathe in
the computer
glitches
the long rows of
cubicles
the pimple on my
chin
the copy due by
five
the coffee four
hours cold
the paper cut on
my thumb
the pain in my
back
the clinking of
my car
the kids
screaming in my ear
the wifes
disapproving glare
the eyes staring
back at my reflection before i go to bed wondering where it all went
hold it now
you breathe in
the gift of
freewill
the murders
the rapes
the poverty
the racism
the sexism
the ageism
the thisism
the thatism
the billions who
died in your name
the planet you
created covered with hot top
the blame you
receive for all of the above while others walk away clean
the sad sulks
like me who take your list for granted and rant about my own
hold it now
together
breathe in
oblivion
hold it now
exhale
drop it
stamp it out
hold the door
2004
“white people cant dance”
by eric pellerin
watch em try
though
they cannot
hear
music
they
make rhythm n
white
blues
merely repeating
motown sounds
slave songs
drowned out
through olive presses
until the juice
loses richness
complexity
through years of
sitting in oak barrels
waiting for a chance to see the
light of day
to breathe
it is crushed
no longer
resembling grapes
pinot or sauvignon
it is only water
now
there is no way
to get drunk on manilow
or maroon 5
they say they move like jagger
they do
just
without the
swagger
of james brown
they prefer elvis
impersonating
forgetting
muddy waters
in a bar saloon
billie holiday singing
for a fix
ray charles
before pepsi ads
without a remix
they cannot dance
they cannot move
forward
you have to know
how to look
back
step
to hear
they do not know
how to
listen
they press on
sung by their own
they claim it
as their own
forgetting the
pain
they caused
to create it
apply it
to their petty
problems
then
give themselves a
grammy
give it to beatles
to buddy holly
and his crickets
to little taylors swiftly
who look like
their daughters
they are not ready
no i dont think they
are ready
for this jelly
they cant handle
jazz
unless its norah
jones
blasting from ceiling speakers
at starbucks
sipping coffee with too much cream
drown out the
flavor
with white liquids
whipped
americans
dream
without
brown sugar
cain
un abel
to open their eyes
they sip
they can swallow
nyc
in the key of alicia keys
they choke
on jay z
they just like
the chorus
ignore the verse
which describe
why nyc
is the place to be
not just the
upper east side
near sex and the city
among charlottes
and samanthas
what about detroit
chicago
need to channel gladys
aretha
ella
or go further
back
to ghana
make you sweat
so
get up
move
sing it in rounds
move your feet
whitepeople
into someone else
shoes
let someone else
do the stomping
trace the steps
created from a
world
that only offered pain
by those who cannot
hear
the music
songs about you
songs about
me
2013
“1973: dam”
by eric pellerin
they set
out to create a city on the mill
upon
foundations of imperishable blue stone
laying
granite foundation
upon a
system of canals
leading
to bodwell’s falls
there
stood a great stone dam
to
generate power
unable
to hold back the current
of
immigrants who would populate the
tall
brick mills of abott lawrence’s vision
they
were married in 1970
all blue
eyeshadow and brown polyester
walking
their first born son in a stroller down common street
past
corpus christi parish where they religiously attend service
past
tripoli’s bakery where they eat pizza
with
sweet sauce and sparse mozzarella
to where
the neon lights are bright
on route
28 broadway
they
will stop to see the damn falls
praying
it will help this colicky child stop crying
the
sound of water crashing
unfailing
waves falling into foam
juxtaposing
a scarlet sun setting behind the crumbling bricks of
his
story
her
italian grandparents sorted laundry here
stripped
to their waists handling steaming hot sheets
she took
his name which means pilgrim in france
then off
to canada to louisiana settling in lawrence
where
the name signifies nothing
ultimately
all their descendants will make missiles for raytheon
to point
at the only people less fortunate than themselves
i could
not sleep
from my
stroller
i look
at the falls
noticing
how the water transforms
sounding
like my mother’s womb
knowing
my place is swimming in a sea
where i
am at peace
they
tried to return home by turning me around
where
all i can see is smoke and brick
rows of
three story houses
with
three generations of families in each cell block
i cried
i made
them turn me around
to look
at the falls once more
at that
time my voice determined where i go
silently
seeing falls fall crash and settle
eventually
they will need to take me home
bring me
back to a reality
where i
will carry on traditions
i will
never fit in anywhere
i will
always feel poor
i will
never be manly enough
i will
always be too sensitive
too much
not
enough
i will
spend the rest of my life holding back
feelings
i never know how to express
who i am
until
someone opens a gate
unleashing
a barrage of rage
crashing
down with nowhere to fall
nowhere
to settle
nowhere
to call home
2019
“1977: A New Hope”
by Eric Pellerin
A
long time ago, in a country far, far, away,
under
the sign of Libra, Apollo gifts a baby boy
to a
family in Eastern Mass, who are movin’ on up to a place
called
Groveland, with a white picket fence, a private yard, fulfilling their destiny,
of escaping
drugs, alleyways, low performing schools, and other assorted dead ends, free
to
dream beyond their parents’ prospects; this boy on a swing-set soars, feet
pumping toward a sky full of hope.
He
doesn’t know it yet, but his only hope
to
escape his INFJ mind is born in a country far, far, away
gifted
to a family in Romania who wait in line for bread, no free-
dom
to learn, think, dream, own property, or practice religion. The only girl
of
this family will watch her father escape to Greece, work in a refugee camp,
hoping to fulfill his destiny,
immigrating
to America, praying his wife and daughter will find him in Eastern Mass, where
freedom is commonplace.
The
boy deals with the silence of this place
by arranging
his action figures from Star Wars: A New
Hope
on
the coffee table, while mom watches black and white movies. His destiny,
at
this time, is to become a Jedi Knight, unlike his father, a teacher who is
often away,
working
several labor jobs. There is a daughter, now. She shares the princess’s name,
and plays with the boy
who often
remains alone. It’s winter. Snowing. He longs to run through sprinklers, as summer
always helps him feel free.
Raised
by her grandmother, she was free
to
be herself, to play with dolls, animals, and knew this place
would
be her home forever. But it is gone. She
is gone. They told the girl
America
would be like Dallas, with horses roaming on pastures made of grain, only to
find her hopes
buried
under concreate sidewalks, discarded trash, dilapidated buildings. She thought they came to get away
from
this? Where is this land of
opportunity? Where are the starry nights
shining above the green pasture of destiny?
His
mother never thought this would be her destiny
moving
an hour away from her mother, one would think she felt free
to
live the life of her choosing. She does not.
Her mother never visits her. Castaway
from
her family to this new town, it may as well be on the other side of the world,
some place
like
France, Spain, Romania. Her husband works
three jobs and she keeps house. She is lonely, yet remains hope-
ful,
watching her stories and old films where people like her have big dreams,
beyond being a mother to a girl and a boy.
Her
mother never wanted to have this girl
her
husband wanted children, and her mother helped her fulfil her destiny
by
watching this child while she worked.
She had so many friends. They
were full of hope,
dancing,
smoking, sharing a laugh, quietly gossiping of the goings on in Romania – so young.
Well, free-
dom
feels like a different word in this lonely, new country of opportunity, only to
be scorned or with no place
to
escape. She is no longer herself, just a wife, mother, servant, with no life. What
purpose does she serve, anyway?
For
now, anyway, he is just a boy and she is just a girl.
In
this place, in time, they will begin to find themselves. Their ultimate destiny,
is
to will freely choose one another, to fill in the missing pieces. Yes, their chance
meeting will be their only hope.
2019
