Prodigy Poet
On more than one occasion I’ve written about my youngest nephew, Patrick, who I refer to as “my prodigy” due to our mutual interest in everything goofy, gooey, and giddy. Now I’d like to introduce his older brother, Matthew, who could also be considered a prodigy of mine, but for a different reason.
My first attempts at writing poetry took place when I was a teenager. In the sanctuary of our shared bedroom, I read them aloud to my sister Sherry. I was 30 when I was paid for my first poem (It does happen on occasion.), and I did my first public reading about 5 years after that.
I try not to compare myself to Matthew. He just turned 10, and after his first attempt at writing poetry, he received a formal letter from his school that said: …In recognition of your outstanding achievement, we respectfully invite you to share your success with the Committee during the Student Recognition portion of its meeting on Wednesday… Please plan to arrive no later than 6:45 PM. Photographs will be taken promptly at 6:50 PM for broadcast on Channel 22… You shall be given the opportunity to make a brief statement regarding your accomplishments.
Last summer, while exploring a nature park together, I did a few creative writing exercises with Matthew and his brother Patrick. Matthew was good at it, but seemed disinterested.
“You think he’s not listening, but he is,” his mother, Trish, later told me. “He soaks everything up.”
Below is Matthew’s acclaimed poem. His mom thinks he may have slipped on the Purple Poet’s Beret before she sent it to me for my birthday. To read an account of my history of poetry with children and some of my great niece’s (blue) poetry, go here.
I am a blue paint brush
I’m as blue as the ocean
I used to paint beautiful paintings
I was dipped in red paint
I was dipped in green paint
I was dipped in all the colors on the face of the earth
Blue was my most favorite color
I can remember the nice clean movements of the artist
I still dream of painting beautiful paintings
Some of the most famous artists held me
When they were done painting, they dipped me in water
The water was as clear as ice
I loved being put away neatly
I didn’t really like the messy artists
I got hurt a couple times when I was dropped
That’s the life of a paint brush like me.
May 28th, 2006 11:31 pm
Wonderful poem! I must say that the protagonist would not like being used by me. I beat the living hell out of paintbrushes! My teacher at
the Art Students League used to stop the class to show them how “interesting” my crusty brushes looked. He wasn’t holding me up to ridicule, though I deservedly got some. He thought they looked interesting. They do, kin of.
Tell Matthew to keep ’em coming. Pretty soon his romantic period will kick in. That lasts to, what–25?
May 29th, 2006 9:55 am
You’re right there is an “artist” in there somewhere. I don’t know of too many boys that age who would write about paint brushes… more likely video games or bugs. How exciting for him!
May 29th, 2006 11:00 am
To see it in writing makes it all the more special!! I love you and Matthew is a poet at the young age of 10. oxox
May 29th, 2006 11:11 am
He shows a lot of potential for a 10 year old and how nice that you are part of it. Sharing a childs creativity only enhances our own.
May 29th, 2006 11:42 am
VERY nice!
May 29th, 2006 3:12 pm
Three cheers for Matty!
I’ve mentioned here before how “interesting” it is to me that Colleen’s blog posts and mine seem to loosely juxtapose eachother. I say this because of her entry to Matty’s poem, when I myself have done a week of color entries. Although I read Matt’s poem when it was sent to the family email list, today it really hit home when I once again read:
I am a blue paint brush
I’m as blue as the ocean
I used to paint beautiful paintings
I was dipped in red paint
I was dipped in green paint
I was dipped in all the colors on the face of the earth…
Darn, I should have used it on my own blog! (I still might)
May 29th, 2006 3:17 pm
As the mom of the prodigy poet, I have a huge smile on my face because of this special blog entry. I just showed and read it to Matthew and he’s smiling too! Patrick loved that his name was mentioned too. I keep wondering if he slipped on that purple beret I got you? xoxo
May 29th, 2006 4:38 pm
wow! what an amazing poem. brilliant.
i have to read that to the lets…. we abuse many paintbrushes. though two have recently been rescued and used for pie and scone making which must be rather a relief to them.
May 29th, 2006 6:58 pm
He’s good! That is an interesting perspective of a paintbrush.
May 29th, 2006 7:54 pm
Good lord he is really good! I was totally into it…10 years old. Well he’s gifted…just like his auntie!
May 29th, 2006 10:12 pm
What a gift to be shining through already. Thanks for sharing it.
May 29th, 2006 10:14 pm
Fantastic Poem!!! And he is ten years old???? What will he be writing when he is twenty years old! That is such a wonderful poem on so many levels…all I can say is, WOW!
Here from Michele tonight Colleen…!
May 30th, 2006 1:56 pm
I love blue, too 🙂