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Poetry from Daily Life: Knowing your audience and having a poem for all ages

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Poetry from Daily Life: Knowing your audience and having a poem for all ages

David L. Harrison
 |  Special to the News-Leader

Hi everyone. I’m David L. Harrison, your host on the weekly column, Poetry from Daily Life. Today it is my pleasure to write the column. I’m known as a children’s poet and author, so that’s what I’ll talk about.  

Writing for Children 

A poet respects his audience. Writing poetry for young people is not for everyone. In addition to learning how to apply the traditional tools of the poet’s trade, one must understand the audience, and the audience changes constantly from year to year. A third grader is nothing like what he/she was two years ago or will be next year. At no age does anyone appreciate condescension, and kids who don’t know the word “trite,” can feel it in what they read or have read to them.

A children’s poet knows that two of the main differences between a child of 10 and an adult are vocabulary and experience. A fourth grader is interested in many of the same subjects that we are — love, loss, family, fear, friendship … The challenge is to serve up topics that our young audiences care about, much the way we might talk if we were sitting together, yet manage to frame our language with poetic appeal. Even if a young reader can’t identify the form of the poem, variety, freshness, and surprising language are appreciated by readers of any age. Children, even young ones, are no exception. A poet respects his audience. Here are some published examples.

(When you’re young enough to have a baby in the house) 

Baby Stuff 

Diapers in the bathtub 

Stroller in the hall 

Highchair in the kitchen 

Spinach on the wall 

Drool on the tables 

Crackers on the floor 

Playpen by the sofa 

Gate across the door 

Cookies in the cushions 

Bottles on the chairs 

Teething rings and rattles 

And ointment everywhere 

Jars of yucky peaches 

You wouldn’t want to touch 

Jammies, booties, blankets 

A hundred times too much 

Every seat is sticky 

I recommend you stand 

The baby stuff at our house 

Is totally out of hand.

❖❖❖

(When you’re old enough to have to practice) 

Practice

Since Mama bought this stupid horn

I hate the day that I was born

‘Cause nothing makes me more forlorn

Than practice practice practice.

⚬

Other guys are playing ball

But Mama doesn’t care at all,

She’s going to drive me up the wall

With practice practice practice!

⚬

I deserve to go to jail

For murdering this B flat scale

And sounding like a dying whale

From practice practice practice.

⚬

I tried to tell her I’m not bright

So I could practice half the night

Forever and not get it right,

Why practice practice practice?

⚬

But nothing helps, not even tears,

I’m doomed to play this horn for years

With Mama yelling in my ears,

PRACTICE PRACTICE PRACTICE!

❖❖❖

(First year in middle school) 

Hey 

At lunch today I see Billy.

“Hey,” we say.

“How’s it going?”

We don’t stop to say more.

Can’t think of anything.

⚬

From third grade on

we were best friends,

sleeping over

at each other’s house.

⚬

Rode horses,

teased his sister …

I think of the night

we laughed so hard

he fell out of bed.

⚬

Now he’s in homeroom 106.

I’m in 107.

And all we can say,

when we meet at lunch is,

“Hey, how’s it going?”

❖❖❖

(When hormones finally take charge)

Some Things You Don’t See Coming 

Something happened over summer — 

girls are looking different now.

Hard to say exactly how,

but other guys have noticed too.

Seems like all we ever do

is sneak looks at girls.

⚬

Makeup maybe?

Clothes?

Perfume?

How they walk across the room?

Can’t explain, I only know

(haven’t told another soul)

I think I’m liking girls.

❖❖❖

Know your audience. Play with your audience. Respect your audience.  

David L. Harrison is poet laureate for Missouri and Drury University. For more, go online to http://davidlharrison.com or http://davidlharrison.wordpress.com.

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