Write Out Loud (Reviews and Writing)

I don’t often boast about my work as a teacher (outside of my professional promotions, of course) but I do like to think that I taught poetry well to my English students over the last twenty years or so, largely because I don’t like – and don’t understand – poetry.

Confused? Allow me to explain.

For someone who is supposed to be a ‘wordsmith’, I’m pretty awful with words when they come in cryptic form. I can’t do crosswords, for instance. Give me number puzzles, sudokus in every manner, and I’m your man. But even simple word puzzles leave me baffled. Countdown was a complete mystery to me. Even the final anagram – which many of my friends at university could figure out instantly – left me absolutely cold. I enjoyed the maths section but, while I’m good at maths, I’m not speedy enough to come up with the sums that quickly.

Poetry is equally as cryptic and this truth is one of the (many) things that put students off. Unless you’re taught how to read poetry, it’s almost certainly an enigma. If you present that enigma as though only a dunce wouldn’t be able to work it out, then you tend to find you turn people off. That’s especially true of teenagers who are presented with poetry as if it were ‘England’s treasured gift’ the world and they don’t get it, they feel stupid and they don’t want to know any further. Up here in the north of England, this is especially true. Poetry isn’t for the likes of no-nonsense hard workers. Save your lovey-dovey stuff for the clever ones down south.

It’s even worse when some teachers make the mistake of thinking that you need to make students write poetry in order to enjoy it. There’s nothing worse. If you don’t understand it, don’t like it, and don’t feel you’re clever or talented enough to ever ‘get it’, then being forced to create poetry is like having your teeth pulled at the dentist. I had this when I was at school. To date, poetry is the one style of writing I don’t attempt. I still believe I’m crap at it, despite helping students to craft very fine poetry and editing the poems of many clients.

It’s the same mistake some music teachers make by having kids sing or perform in front of the class (something I never did) and the reason I hate PE teachers – because they’re all bullies who think that unless you can run, catch a ball or kick a football then you’re simply scum. There’s a lot to be said for letting students be creative – don’t get me wrong – but when you force it on them, that’s just a slow, painful death.

So, when I have taught poetry to my English Literature students, I’ve always started from the point of saying: “I get it. I struggle with it too. So does everyone when they first come to poetry.” Then I liken it to doing a crossword, or solving a riddle. There’s a reason, I tell them, why the expression ‘Read between the lines’ came into being.

From there, we look at some great poems. I acknowledge there’s some awful ones too. Romantic poetry, for instance, is usually ghastly for modern tastes. Sure, when you’re in love with poetry and know a lot about it, then Shakespeare’s soliloquies and Wordsworth’s ridiculously long Prelude (where, in essence, a young man goes for a boat ride in the dark and scares himself silly) and so on, can bring great joy and illumination. But for everyone else, poetry that is real, to the point and relevant to us now is the stuff that’s really worth reading. Unlocking the keys to these poems is worth the hard work.

For that reason, I absolutely love sharing the poems of Maura Dooley, Simon Armitage, Andrew Waterhouse, Daljit Nagra, Imtiaz Dharker, John Agard and Beatrice Garland – among many others – with my students. All these poets feature in the AQA GCSE course – which is one of the single best collections of poetry for young minds I’ve ever seen. I get a kick out of encouraging students to bring their own experiences to the table and seeing their faces as they start to ‘get it’. Such moments can be life-changing.

What appeals about these poets is the mundane nature of their work. By that I mean the ‘normalness’ in their writing that makes what we take for granted very special. They give meaning where we might otherwise miss it. And what they don’t say is often just as important as what they do.

I was thinking about all of this over the weekend when I came across two poems by two different, but equally brilliant, poets who have written these works in response to recent times. I’ll share both pieces with no comment about the work itself. I’ll let the poets speak.

The first, by Carol Ann Duffy, is in response to Donald Trump’s recent visit to the UK and the sickening ass-kissing given by the royals and Keir Starmer.

STATE/BANQUET

CAROL ANN DUFFY

Where Duffy is oblique (it’s hard to understand what she’s talking about unless you know the context), Hollie McNish is in your face and so direct she’s almost shouting it at you.

If You Want Your Country Back

if you want your country back, go ahead and take it
there are signs up in every street about what your town needs help with
local litter picking groups are always on the lookout
the library needs volunteers, the youth clubs need a paint job
the community centre’s desperate for folk to come on weekdays
to play board games with older residents and help out in the café
the rape crisis centres need fundraisers and donors
and drivers are in dire need to get non-drivers to doctors
the library needed volunteers all summer, did you go there?
the local football clubs need coaches and lines-folk and referees
the allotments need looked after, the local parks need planted
and if you don’t want to help with anything above
just admit you do not give a shit, and shut the fuck up

Hollie McNish

I don’t know about you, but I find such poems deeply arousing. I’d rather read these than a hundred bestselling novels. Such poetry stirs the soul.

In the last ten years or so I’ve had the pleasure of working with several poets, producing their work and helping them publish their pieces. The ones I’ve enjoyed most have been those who write with that same everyday relevance. Much of the time they are understated. Sometimes just observations of ordinary life and the importance that even the most mundane event can hold. Sometimes they are fiery and defiant, speaking of struggles, failures and victories.

While the two poems I have shared that I came across this weekend are both white and refer to British events, I thought I’d end with a video from the sublime Nigerian poet, Hafsat Abdullahi (known as Havfy to her adoring fans, of which I am one). Arguably her most famous poem is To the Girl in English Class. Havfy is a spoken word artist like Hollie McNish. Their poetry is meant to be heard rather than read. You could argue the same for all poetry and you wouldn’t be wrong. But there is a particular power in hearing some poems. In the case of Havfy, it’s absolutely essential. She exudes power from every pore (and, as it happens, is a very lovely person too).

Social Entrepreneur, educationalist, bestselling author and journalist, D K Powell is the author of the bestselling collection of literary short stories “The Old Man on the Beach“. His first book, ‘Sonali’ is a photo-memoir journal of life in Bangladesh and has been highly praised by the Bangladeshi diaspora worldwide. Students learning the Bengali language have also valued the English/Bengali translations on every page. His third book is ‘Try not to Laugh’ and is a guide to memorising, revising and passing exams for students.

Both ‘The Old Man on the Beach’ and ‘Sonali’ are available on Amazon for kindle and paperback. Published by Shopno Sriti Media. The novel,’The Pukur’, was published by Histria Books in 2022.

D K Powell is available to speak at events (see his TEDx talk here) and can be contacted at dkpowell.contact@gmail.com. Alternatively, he is available for one-to-one mentoring and runs a course on the psychology of writing. Listen to his life story in interview with the BBC here.

Ken writes for a number of publications around the world. Past reviewer for Paste magazine, The Doughnut, E2D and United Airways and Lancashire Life magazine. Currently reviews for Northern Arts Review. His reviews have been read more than 7.9 million times.

Get a free trial and 20% off Shortform by clicking here. Shortform is a brilliant tool and comes with my highest recommendation.