Teen writers have Hope in Somerville

On May 7, 2010, in Latest News, by The News Staff

 
Keisha Jean-Louis, 18, holds a copy of her book, Love Hurts.
Anthony Cimea writes poetry in both English and Creole. ~Photos by Lauren Ostberg

Lauren C. Ostberg

"Read
it loud, like you're proud of it," New Bedford Poet Laureate Everett
Hoagland urged a group of student writers who were tittering through
Sonia Sanchez's "Reflections after the June 12 March for Disarmament."

The
piece focuses on the continuing struggles of the African-American
people, a major theme in Hoagland's April 28 reading at the public
library. His presentation addressed the poetic elements of imagery,
simile, and form in the poetry of Maya Angelou, Langston Hughes,
Gwendolyn Brooks, Sonia Sanchez and Hoagland himself.

"Why am I
focusing on African-American authors?" he asked. "Well, there's more
than enough of the alternatives, in terms of role models."

According
to Hoagland, his poetry did not really come of age until the Black Arts
Movement of the late 1960s and early 1970s, when he shrugged off the
influence of the academy – specifically, his graduate education at the
Ivy League Brown University – and began to write poetry that was meant
to speak directly to other people.



Hoagland's participation in
what he calls "the Afro-centric Black cultural movement" encouraged his
belief that one's work should be "relevant to the well-being of the
people in the community."

Though the reading was open to the
public, he was addressing mostly members of the Books of Hope program,
a literary-arts program based in Somerville's Mystic projects. They
listened to him praise Brook's rhythm and Hughes' imagery; they learned
the kwansaba form, seven lines of seven words, often written in praise,
and read through Hoagland's "End of the Q+A."

Hoagland asked them to write their own and share their work. Then, they got loud.

A very confident Anthony Cimea opened. "Can there be shades of black?/ or does each emanate from lightness?" he wondered.

That
was the beginning of a deluge of poetry that was written in
near-dialogue with the pieces that had come before. One young man
recited his variation on Angelou's "I will rise." Makisha Antoine, an
obvious veteran of poetry performance, spoke of her visit to Haiti, and
her vision for that nation's future.

Many of the 20-plus
performers were of Haitian descent, and each of their poems grappled
with broad issues of oppression, identity, and ambition.

The
space was also rife with encouragement and performance suggestions. "Be
in your comfort zone, bro," someone yelled out to one shy speaker."
"Yo, you need to speak loud," one reader prodded another. "Remember,
body language!"

"You should read, 'I believe in hope,'" three
Books of Hope regulars encouraged a faltering colleague. Later, the
entire BOH crew participated in a call and response poem.

If
they seem to know each other's work well, it could be because they meet
two times a week, and occasionally on the weekends. The program began
in 1999.

Poet and non-fiction author Soul Brown, who has
directed the program since 2005, says that events like this workshop
"gives the kids the opportunity to recognize that they're not far
removed from professional writers." She believes in creating a literary
environment for students, and is currently working to make BOH
publications – more than 100 so far – look even more like the other
books on the shelves at the Mystic Learning Center by adding ISBN
numbers.

"This room speaks to the fact that young people have an interest in writing and literature," observed Hoagland.

For
Keisha Jean-Louis, 18, Books of Hope is about "positive events," and
examples that help her "aspire to do what others do." She will start
college in the fall, and, according to her poem YBF (Young Black
Female), she is extremely comfortable in her own skin. She "walk[s] the
projects of Somerville/The Mystic with bigger dreams/Than you can
imagine."

On April 28, however, she is in the Somerville
Public Library, reading from a bound book of her own poems. Her mother,
the subject of Jean-Louis's kwanzaba, looks on. Brown, who is "like a
second mother" to her, is dreaming up next week's workshop. Hoagland is
handing out business cards, encouraging students to send him their
writing for commentary.

"That was good," Brown said at the event's conclusion. "We need five times as many people next time."

 

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