She Speaks in the Voice of a Child

About a dozen years ago, I attended a poetry reading by Nikki Grimes at a bookstore in Seattle. She was wearing a purple dress, a purple coat, and a purple hat. I introduced myself, and we’ve been friends ever since. If you visit Nikki’s Web site, you’ll find a photo of us together. Purple is indeed her favorite color, and she collects pieces of glass in shades of deep blue. She’s a tireless worker, writing six days a week. (I wish I could be that disciplined.) When she’s not working on a manuscript, Nikki spends her time making jewelry and other works of art in paper and fabric.

Nikki writes an impressive variety of books, including novels, biographies, and poetry. Though poetry is her first love, she likes to explore things in a novel that she can’t in poetry, so she’ll always write both. She credits her musical ear for the sense of rhythm in her poetry and calls her poetry “the place where words and music meet.” Some of Nikki’s best poems speak beautifully in the voice of the child—in particular, her irrepressible character Danitra Brown.

Nikki was born in Harlem in 1950. At the age of 13, she gave her first poetry reading, at the Countee Cullen Library, a block away from where she was born. She has won numerous awards, including the 2003 Coretta Scott King Award, given each year by the American Library Association to an African-American author and illustrator “for outstanding inspirational and educational contributions.” In 2006, she won the National Council of Teachers of English Award for Excellence in Poetry for Children.

Recently, Nikki sent me some of her unpublished poems. So, instead of selecting poems from her many books, I’ll share with you some of her newest ones.

         Fake Tattoo

My butterfly sits
atop my wrist
as if it’s poised for flight.

My lovely tattoo
no longer new
will fade before the night.

Still, after it’s gone,
it will live on
inside my memory.

This jewel of the air—
beauty most rare—
that once was plain as me.

* * * * * *

Tree

1.
Ear to trunk, I hear
Tree sighing and dreaming of
lights, tinsel, angel.

2.
Her boughs bending, still
she welcomes Snow’s company—
temporary friend.

* * * * * *

Waiting

The orphanage
put my picture
on a postcard.
My smile says
“Pick me! Pick me!”
But mostly, people say
I’m too old to adopt,
like I’m a run-down clock
(tick-tock, tick-tock)
and the big hand says
Julie is half-past loving.

* * * * * *

What I Like About These Poems

“Fake Tattoo” — I love the melodic sensation of this poem. When you read the poem out loud, it paints an aural picture of a butterfly. In the first stanza, several words contain the short “i” sound (sits/wrist/if/it’s), which reinforces the flitting movements of a butterfly. The next stanza depends on the longer “oo” sound (tattoo/new), which helps create the sense of a butterfly at rest (and so you have a chance to really gaze at it). The final two stanzas become more contemplative as the butterfly recedes into memory. Then, if that is not enough, in the last line Nikki takes you back to the title, reminding you that this butterfly is a fake (remember, she’s describing a tattoo of a butterfly). She compares herself to this tattoo and leaves you with the question “Who does the narrator thinks she is?” A fake (tattoo) or a real person (me)? Is she as beautiful as a jewel or just plain “me”? This simple little poem about a tattoo of a butterfly is expressing some quite complicated and contradictory feelings.

“Tree” — Nikki never says what kind of tree this is, but by the end of the first stanza, you know that as the narrator leans against its trunk, she is “listening” to a Christmas tree. What else could it be with words such as “lights, tinsel, angel”? In the second stanza, you realize this tree is still standing in a field or forest, covered only in a mantle of snow. What gives this poem so much power is the projection of the narrator’s feelings of expectation onto a simple tree that hasn’t yet been cut down. Her anticipation of Christmas is so intense that she thinks everything, including a tree still in the ground, must be dreaming of Christmas, too.

“Waiting” — In just 11 lines, Nikki tells the story of a child’s life. You learn that Julie is an orphan who’s longing to find a family (“Pick me! Pick me!”). She’s also optimistic (“My smile”), but—and there is a very big “But” halfway through the poem—her hopes are dashed because others see her as too old to be adopted. Julie’s disappointment is made all the more poignant when she compares herself to a run-down clock. You can hear time ticking away “(tick-tock, tick-tock).” Julie doesn’t just say that nobody loves her; she says instead that she is “half-past loving.” This transformation of a child into the hands of a clock is more descriptive and evocative than merely telling us she is sad.

Nikki Grimes, “Fake Tattoo,” Tree,” and Waiting.” Copyright 1978 by Nikki Grimes. Reprinted by permission of Curtis Brown, Ltd.