Dr. Emily Moore shares that she used the “Question” function of Google Classroom to create interactive, collaborative poems with her Poetry Workshop students. Each student wrote a different line throughout the day. Our teachers know the hardships many of our families and our faculty face at this time. To that end, Dr. Moore expressed the following emotional statement when she shared the poem I thought important to share with all--“I know we’re all on the front lines of some relentlessly hard things right now and thought you’d find this poem as moving as I do.”
If Walt Whitman Were Alive and Young and Still Living in Brooklyn...
Inspired by Walt Whitman and titled for the first line of Stanley Moss’s poem “Subway Token,” this poem was written collectively via Google Classroom by the students in Stuyvesant High School’s Poetry Workshop classes on May 7th, 2020, during our eighth week of quarantine and distance learning.
He would have entered a coffee and bagel shop for breakfast.
Walt could have seen the beautiful, pale-blue, morning New York sky hanging above the streets he knew
and loved, now empty, but he could have lived to see it return to its familiar liveliness, too.
He would have heard the cries of support for workers everyday at 7 PM,
Seen a cloud of misfortune and panic blanket the state he loved.
He would have sneezed and gotten fearful and suspicious looks from everyone.
He would have heard the rustling of leaves in the trees that watched over the empty sidewalks.
He would have gazed upon the once bustling streets and stations, now empty save for the lingering scent
of disinfectant.
He would climb onto his fire escape or rooftop to feel the wind and cheer for the city.
If Walt Whitman were alive today, he would see an empty NYC where people are able to survive the
loneliness with screens and new Netflix shows.
He would have gone outside and written poems about his observations and surroundings.
He would have taken the train to Manhattan just to see the views of the city from the bridge, his delight
flowing in waves for the unknowing commuters.
He would have heard a silent Times Square,
Enjoyed the silence of places usually crowded,
Enjoyed pizza.
He would have heard the 7 pm cuckoo clock of applause, celebrating unknowing martyrs.
He would have seen the quiet, empty streets as people remained at home.
He would have climbed out onto his roof at 7pm, banging spoons against pots, making music for the
children leaning out their windows.
He would take morning strolls in Prospect Park,
Feel the growing divide even during trying times,
Would consider Staten Island the highest form of comedy.
He would have seen the desolate streets of NYC.
He would have seen the empty ferries,
Dollars stretched thinly and families wondering when the next check would come.
He would have regretted everything he never had the chance to do.
He would have cooked some delicious recipes.
He would have written odes to the men and women fighting our battle up front.
He would have written some poems while in quarantine.
He would have lost himself in the world of books and poetry.
He would have seen the inequality in police activity between races.
He would have seen how rapidly the city was changing.
He would have stayed at home and practiced social distancing as a good member of the society.
He would have stared out the window all day.
He would have felt the choking toll of human loss in the air.
He would have performed amazing recitations of his poems from his window.
He would have ventured the "abandoned" city and look up to the skies for ideas.
He would have clapped everyday at 7pm,
And I know that everything will turn out just fine, even if we're moving much too fast.
He would have found no sweeter fat than what sticks to his own bones.
He would have seen the piercing needle of the Freedom Tower.
He would have seen dark streets and empty alleys.
He would have not heard sounds of human voices as the streets were filled with emptiness.
He would have seen the empty streets devoid of life.
He would have watched a store get robbed by 3 men.
Walt would have written epic poems in quarantine.
He would have to stay at home during quarantine.
He would have marveled at the diversity of culture and language all over the city.
He would have seen all the celebrations at 7 pm commemorating our brave soldiers.
He would have stepped on to his balcony with hopeful hands at seven, praying to the siren sounds and to
those walking to heaven.
