The Dear Poet Project: My Experience as a "Chosen One"
By Sofia Maya, senior, iPrep Academy
By Sofia Maya, senior, iPrep Academy
Poetry. Some people love it; some people hate it. However, no one can deny the impact poetry has had on cultures all around the globe from past to present day. The Academy of American Poets is only one of the many organizations dedicated to honoring and celebrating poets and poetry. One way they do this is through the Dear Poet Project.
As stated on their website Poets.org, the Dear Poet Project is a “multimedia education project that invites young people in grades five through twelve to write letters in response to poems written and read by award-winning poets,” hosted every National Poetry Month in April. As any good avid-poetry-enthusiast teacher would do, Ms. Keller made sure everyone in our Creative Writing class was taking part in it, including me.
It only took me one class period to write the first draft, and a few sessions with Ms. Keller to finalize it. I wrote my letter to M. Bartley Seigel, an Academy of American Poets Laureate Fellow, about his poem “Into the Thicket” and sent it off, not thinking much of it. I was vaguely aware that some letters would be selected to be sent directly to the poet and posted on the website, but, approaching the end of my junior year, I had other things to worry about, like AP tests and college essays. |
Poet M. Bartley Seigel reads his poem "Into the Thicket" for the 2022 Dear Poet Project.
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It wasn’t until the junior Busch Gardens trip on May 31st that I was reminded of it again. I was sitting, waiting for a friend who was in another area, and decided to check my emails. That’s when I saw an email that stated my letter was selected from thousands to be sent to Seigel and put on their website, Poets.org. All I had to do was get my parents to sign a consent form. I was so excited! I got my dad to sign the form as soon as I could and boasted to as many people.
A few weeks later, I got another email that said my letter had finally been posted on their website AND Seigel had responded (which you can find here). When I checked, I saw that my letter was at the top of the page featuring all the letters to Seigel that had been selected. It was an experience I will never forget. So, below is my letter and the response as proof of my poetry-letter-writing-related success.
A few weeks later, I got another email that said my letter had finally been posted on their website AND Seigel had responded (which you can find here). When I checked, I saw that my letter was at the top of the page featuring all the letters to Seigel that had been selected. It was an experience I will never forget. So, below is my letter and the response as proof of my poetry-letter-writing-related success.
My Letter
Dear M. Bartley Seigel,
My name is Sofia, and I’m a junior at iPreparatory Academy in Miami, Florida. As a part of my Creative Writing class, my teacher assigned us the Dear Poet project to celebrate Poetry Month. When I first learned of the project, I thought most of the poems would be cynically political or dramatically philosophical. And though those poems are usually amazing, especially the ones featured this year, they don’t inspire me, too heavy for my immature self. However, upon reading your poem, that idea completely changed my perspective.
Having lived in Miami all my life, I’ve never truly experienced winter. At most, I visited NYC once in January. And I never minded that. I quite like the humid heat; it feels like a comfy blanket. Maybe that’s why I was so drawn to your poem. The way you describe the start of winter is so beautiful, so ethereal: A “hag,” a “dance,” an “omen”, a “spell.” Despite my chronic aversion to the cold, the imagery in your poem made me want to feel it in my bones, feel the vibrations. I rarely ever feel the desire to experience winter, and yet you did just that.
Though I keep mentioning “winter,” you were able to perfectly describe its arrival without ever using the word. In the first stanza, you write, “we go looking for… first snow… but find mud still warm.” It was at this moment I realized the poem is about the last few moments before winter properly starts, even though I’ve never actually experienced such a winter. And the words you use—“crow feather,” “Frost Moon,” “hunkered Sun,” “cross-quarter nest,” “dim Solstice,” “pirouetting north,” “best wishes, casting spells against the coming darkness”—seem so mystical. I can see it. I can smell it. I could paint it, and I want to.
My name is Sofia, and I’m a junior at iPreparatory Academy in Miami, Florida. As a part of my Creative Writing class, my teacher assigned us the Dear Poet project to celebrate Poetry Month. When I first learned of the project, I thought most of the poems would be cynically political or dramatically philosophical. And though those poems are usually amazing, especially the ones featured this year, they don’t inspire me, too heavy for my immature self. However, upon reading your poem, that idea completely changed my perspective.
Having lived in Miami all my life, I’ve never truly experienced winter. At most, I visited NYC once in January. And I never minded that. I quite like the humid heat; it feels like a comfy blanket. Maybe that’s why I was so drawn to your poem. The way you describe the start of winter is so beautiful, so ethereal: A “hag,” a “dance,” an “omen”, a “spell.” Despite my chronic aversion to the cold, the imagery in your poem made me want to feel it in my bones, feel the vibrations. I rarely ever feel the desire to experience winter, and yet you did just that.
Though I keep mentioning “winter,” you were able to perfectly describe its arrival without ever using the word. In the first stanza, you write, “we go looking for… first snow… but find mud still warm.” It was at this moment I realized the poem is about the last few moments before winter properly starts, even though I’ve never actually experienced such a winter. And the words you use—“crow feather,” “Frost Moon,” “hunkered Sun,” “cross-quarter nest,” “dim Solstice,” “pirouetting north,” “best wishes, casting spells against the coming darkness”—seem so mystical. I can see it. I can smell it. I could paint it, and I want to.
As much as your poem intrigued me, I became interested in you. When I saw your picture while reading your poem on the poets.org website, I thought to myself, “Wow, he really doesn’t look like a stereotypical poet.” I thought you look more like a Park Ranger than a writer, which seems so cool to me. As I became more interested, I wanted to know why you started writing poetry, so I searched the internet and found an interview with The Lode. When reading your interview, I loved when you explained that you are a “dirty slut of a reader” because I, too, consider myself an avid reader. Honestly, though, I now realize that I should be a more “promiscuous” reader. This made me realize that if I want to be a properly good writer, I ought to digest as much as I can, even if it’s outside my comfort zone.
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An image of Seigel by Adam Johnson.
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Thank you so much for your poem and your advice. You made me appreciate winter in a way I haven’t since my 7-year-old self first watched the Disney movie Frozen. I would be forever grateful if you had any more advice you could give to an aspiring writer like myself. I know you don’t need my encouragement, but please, keep writing. I look forward to reading more of your work.
Sincerely,
Sofia
Sincerely,
Sofia
His Response
Dear Sofia,
Thank you so much for choosing my poem, “Into the Thicket,” for your Dear Poet project, and for composing such a thoughtful letter. Did you know that US Route 41, which begins in Miami, ends in Copper Harbor, in Michigan’s Keweenaw Peninsula, near to where I live? It’s a little piece of trivia, mostly, but something I immediately thought of when reading your letter. I often think of poetry as a kind of road or bridge connecting different points on the map, some near, some far, or connecting people who would otherwise never meet one another because of time or distance or difference. What magic words can work when we find the right ones.
I’m grateful my words were able to evoke for you the “vibrations” of my corner of the world, the rhythms and cycles that make this place or person simultaneously unique and the same, this one from that. Sometimes I feel like the definition of being a poet (or an artist of any kind, really) is bearing the gift of being a differently tuned antennae. We notice things others might miss—nuances, subtleties, tremors—and our job is to share that with others so they can see and hear and touch and taste the world as we do.
That’s why I read so voraciously, too, because I also want to share in what other storytellers experience that I cannot myself. That reciprocating generosity and curiosity between the storyteller and the listener, reader and writer, is the most human kind of exchange possible, and rather a miracle. Your desire to step into that circle yourself by reading more, and more widely, and by contributing your own words to the exchange—I really want to encourage you in that lifelong pursuit.
I hope your summer is filled with rest and relaxation, and that it isn’t too terribly hot and humid in Miami this season. I feel about your subtropical summers the way you express feeling about Northcountry winters—it’s slightly alien and unfathomable to me. I’ve only ever traveled there in the winter, which still felt quite like summer to a snowbird like me. I would have to imagine June, July, and August are very different from what one experiences in December, January, or February. You’ll have to find the words and write about it someday, so people like me can see it through your eyes.
Sincerely,
M. Bartley Seigel
Thank you so much for choosing my poem, “Into the Thicket,” for your Dear Poet project, and for composing such a thoughtful letter. Did you know that US Route 41, which begins in Miami, ends in Copper Harbor, in Michigan’s Keweenaw Peninsula, near to where I live? It’s a little piece of trivia, mostly, but something I immediately thought of when reading your letter. I often think of poetry as a kind of road or bridge connecting different points on the map, some near, some far, or connecting people who would otherwise never meet one another because of time or distance or difference. What magic words can work when we find the right ones.
I’m grateful my words were able to evoke for you the “vibrations” of my corner of the world, the rhythms and cycles that make this place or person simultaneously unique and the same, this one from that. Sometimes I feel like the definition of being a poet (or an artist of any kind, really) is bearing the gift of being a differently tuned antennae. We notice things others might miss—nuances, subtleties, tremors—and our job is to share that with others so they can see and hear and touch and taste the world as we do.
That’s why I read so voraciously, too, because I also want to share in what other storytellers experience that I cannot myself. That reciprocating generosity and curiosity between the storyteller and the listener, reader and writer, is the most human kind of exchange possible, and rather a miracle. Your desire to step into that circle yourself by reading more, and more widely, and by contributing your own words to the exchange—I really want to encourage you in that lifelong pursuit.
I hope your summer is filled with rest and relaxation, and that it isn’t too terribly hot and humid in Miami this season. I feel about your subtropical summers the way you express feeling about Northcountry winters—it’s slightly alien and unfathomable to me. I’ve only ever traveled there in the winter, which still felt quite like summer to a snowbird like me. I would have to imagine June, July, and August are very different from what one experiences in December, January, or February. You’ll have to find the words and write about it someday, so people like me can see it through your eyes.
Sincerely,
M. Bartley Seigel
Final Thoughts
In the end, I'm very glad I was able to take part in this project. It was such a wonderful experience, even before I found out I was chosen. For those who have the chance, please take part in the Dear Poet Project. I promise you won't regret it.
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Clause Monet, 1880
Sunset on the Seine at Lavacourt, Winter Effect |