National Poetry Month

WMS students and teachers are honoring National Poetry Month with their studies in English classes and with presentations to the community at Morning Meeting. Scroll down to read a poem by White Mountain School sophomore, Ysanel Luciano.

Students in Barbara Buckley’s class shared their original works this morning. Buckley shared, “The poems the students read this morning were poems they wrote about a journey or a place they call home. We had been reading other place/journey poems and the students modeled their poems on some of those -or just went their own ways. The timed slides you saw are similar to a Pecha Kucha type of presentation. Next week, Dawn Potter, a poet who lives in Maine and leads the summer programs at The Frost Place, will be coming to campus to work with students in classes and do an evening poetry reading on Thursday evening. She’ll be staying on campus and leading morning meeting on Friday morning.”



by Ysanel Luciano ’18


Waving is my way of acknowledging a presence

gives peace to those to receive it

I wave and go, the crowd floods my presence


I received stares and smiles, as no fear is shown, just confidence

Alone I go down the aisle, take a seat and pray

Just as my mother does

she waits for a call, four hours from now,

From a place further than she can see me

But my voice will reassure her and let her sleep for 21 days


The smell hit me: gas and burnt tires

As the humid air ran across my face

The moon fell, the sun rose, cars honked

Too tired to remember how I got here, my eyes took over me

I was awakened by a soft cry


Those who see me, know who I am

But I look at those unfamiliar faces and try to attach a name

Does she dance?

Does she speak spanish?

Who is her mother?

Because that’s how I have to introduce myself

Hija de Mella, I mumbled

Annoyed by how no one knew my name


To the confusion on everyone’s face

When they found out I knew what a parcela was

To pointing out tourist who spoke english

“Those are your people”


To soft eyes following my move

Never has he seen me before

But I make myself known


Ysanel, hija de Mella


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