If you happened to be driving around Hyde Park on April 10, you might have seen a swarm of students with notebooks roaming the streets. That was teacher Andrea Rotter’s Creative Writing Class doing a Cincinnati Walking Sonnet Walk! The poem that follows is composed of lines each of us wrote as we wandered through the neighborhood. We hope this inspires you to write your way through your own or any of Cincinnati’s 52 neighborhoods. Click here to read other examples of Cincinnati Walking Sonnets by other poets. Instructions for composing your own Cincinnati Walking Sonnet can be found here.
Keep an eye out for an announcement for a “Cincinnati Streetcar Sonnet” workshop on some steamy July or August Sunday—an air-conditioned version of the Walking Sonnet, wherein we substitute streetcar stops for blocks to get our eight blocks forward before the “volta” and six blocks back. In the meantime, as Clark students head off on summer break, we hope you enjoy our poem:
Clark to Clark—A Sonnet Walk x 2
Beginning in the east, ending in the west,
us kids are powerwalking through her hood.
We speed past, missing the house for sale,
smell of sweet flowers, musical wind chimes,
plastic bag flying through the air, trash all
the way. Some sidewalks are like people, cracked,
broken and damaged. A drum tempo makes
a heartbeat in the wind when you 180
back the way you came. Ivy creeps closer,
threatening entangled ankles, rosebud trees
rising up against the unknown. April
is the cruelest month, says the man waving
American flags, the white stark against
the parade of blue shining in the light.
Trees without leaves give the leaf blower no
job. Birds chirping a weird birdish sound, cars
driving, children playing and water sprinkling
the blue blob drawn in chalk on the playground
blacktop. Redeemer Preschool, not a kid
in sight, but a dead mouse on the sidewalk.
We’re in Hyde Park, so of course it is Black,
the wind that made me feel powerful too
as if I was the one to change the world.
A nice, neighborly man with sprinklers
to help the heat tells me of poems I don’t
recall. This is me leaving my high school.
Nothing will stop me from wanting to be home.
Wherever I go, this is where I’m from.
Andrea Rotter’s Creative Writing Class
Compiled by Cincinnati Poet Laureate Pauletta Hansel