Lee Bennett Hopkins–#dearonelbh
“Give children poetry. It is one of the best gifts you can give them… a gift to last a lifetime.” so said poet Lee Bennett Hopkins.
Lee Bennett Hopkins, the poet, poetry anthologist, teacher and supporter of many poets passed away this month. Many Poetry Friday friends are posting poems in his honor using a line from one (or more ) of his poems. This weeks host is Amy at the Poem Farm. Check out what she and other poets have to share about this wonderful man.
I didn’t know Lee Bennett Hopkins personally, but I feel like I know him through the people I know whose lives he touched directly. He was a joyful man, a friend to many and great encourager of poets through his words and anthologies. And hw worked in honor of the children, recognizing the power of poetry to touch and transform the lives of children. He published more poetry anthologies than any other American writer. Although I didn’t know him, I have enjoyed and learned from his poetry and some (I haven’t read nearly all of them) of his poetry anthologies.
If you’re interested in reading some of his poems, I recommend his book Been to Yesterdays: Poems of a Life, a book about his childhood. He shares the pain of his parents’ divorce, poverty, and unstable home-life. 
The Poems:
I chose a poem from this book that’s titled “We.” In it, LBH writes about his family’s middle of the night move. It begins like this:
We
have to
move again
tonight.
Mama’s money’s
spent.
I don’t have enough
to make
our monthly rent.
The check
that Daddy said
he’d send
was never sent.
But I’ve chosen the lines: “…memories rest quietly in paper chests…”
Memories rest
quietly in paper chests–
or do they?
My memories
rustle and rattle,
Like wet clay
soaking through cardboard
seeping
every which way.
I hear them
scratching
night and day
trying to escape.
Tape will not
keep them at bay.
Nor bubble wrap
although it may
make them seem
more far away.
No, on second thought,
my memories do not rest
quietly in paper chests.
It seems a rather glum poem–yet silly at the same time. I wish I had the opportunity to know Lee Bennett Hopkins. I’m glad I can know him through his work and through the stories of friends. Check out the many tributes to him–and Amy (at the Poem Farm) also has links to obituaries in the New York Times and other newspapers.
As always, thanks for stopping by.
Have a wonderful, poetic week.
xoxo
Thank you, Susan, for sharing the Lee poem that you did. I never read it before. It goes wonderfully with Renee La Tulippe’s interview with Lee in which he shared his early years in Newark. I think the following lines are what many of us are feeling these days.
My memories
rustle and rattle,
Like wet clay
Memories sometimes feel heavy and damp–especially in difficult/sad times.
Susan, I like how your poem wanders. It seems to reflect what our own minds are doing, trying to process Lee’s absence. Thank you for honoring him.
Thanks–especially at times of loss (but also when I’m tired, bored…) my mind wanders in interesting ways.
I can so relate to your poem – driving by places I’ve lived and laughed before, it seems like the memories are still there somehow, even though they are really inside of me. Where do they all wish to go? May each of us carry Lee’s light onward…as we read, share, and write poems. Peace to you. xx
Memories are funny. Sometimes they seem so heavy and other times they’re more like a warm blanket. And I’m learning to treasure them all.
Oh, I like how you transformed Lee’s line, Susan. And I love your comment that “he worked in honor of the children” — true words indeed, and a lovely way to put it!
Thank you!
OH those memories do rustle instead of lying quietly. Thank you for sharing your tribute poem. I am grateful for this community in which to share memories of Lee even for those of us who did not know him personally. Like you, I feel like I do know him a little from all those he influenced.
Thanks, Kay. Lee’s poem was so lovely and sad. It was interesting what it triggered for me. I’m grateful for this community, too.