Poem: It's ok by Amy Ludwig VanDerwater

 

Ode to Mud Puddles by Elena de Roo

Ode to Mud Puddles

When you're stuck in the grumps on a gray, rainy day,

When nothing is going the right kind of way,

Put on your rain boots,

Pull on a hat,

And go find a nice, muddy puddle to splat!

Not any sized puddle.

Oh no, not at all.

The puddle you pick

Must be this big

Not small.

A puddle too little

Is splashed in a split.

One tiny Splish!

And it's over, that's it!

A medium puddle's 

A middle-bit better.

At least a few sploshes

I'd never say never.

EVening big puddle isn't the best.

The one that you ust eclipse all the rest

     (I must have not proofread, this doesn't make sense, and I can't find this poem anywhere on the internet...)

Deep as a canyon.

Giant-sized-wide.

So large

You can't see the opposite side.

In wild kind of weather

Whenever it's wetter,

The bigger, the better

THE SPLASH!

          Elena de Roo

          New Zealand poet & children's author

Poem: I Opened a Book by Julia Donaldson

 

I Opened a Book

I opened a book and in I strode.

Now nobody can find me.

I've left my chair, my house, my road,

My town and my world behind me.

I'm wearing the cloak, I've slipped on the ring.

I've swallowed the magic potion.

I've fought with a dragon, dined with a king,

And dived in a bottomless ocean.

I opened a book and made some friends.

I shared their tears and laughter

And followed their road with its bumps and bends

To the happily ever after.

I finished my book and out I came.

The cloak can no longer hide me.

My chair and my house are just the same,

But I have a book inside me.

Julia Donaldson

Posted by Cumberland County Library System 

4/25/2021

Poem: Conjuring Nana by Barbara Quick

My wonderful Oz/Maine/Tucson friend, Sheila, sent me a lovely card and a wonderful poem for my upcoming birthday.  I'm sharing them both so they're firmly set in my memory.

                   Conjuring Nana

I learned how to make Nana's chicken soup

by shadowing her steps in the kitchen,

taking notes on a white paper napkin.

A cauldron of sorts is required, as well as a

once-animate chicken submerged above

the stove's blue flame.

"You put in the onions," Nana said,

her Russian accent as fresh as the breeze

must have felt on her face when she debarked

at Ellis Island in 1916 or so.

"How much salt?" I wanted to know --

and when she shrugged I could see

a palimpsest of the girl she was at my age.

The water boiled and the air filled with steam.

Not offering an answer in words,

she poured salt into her upturned palm

and tipped it out into the pot.

No measuring cups for my Nana.

"A little this, a little that" she'd say,

cocking her head, adding a pinch of black pepper

and copious piles of carrots and celery.

I thought about the chestnut-colored braid

my other showed me, wrapped in a piece of sea-green silk.

Nana was beautiful when she was young.  

Everyone said so.

Cleaning a leek, she told me, "I don't know

what it's called, but it makes the soup good."

Sixty-four now and all my elders dead,

I add a parsnip as well, just as I watched Nana do,

and I feel the velvet touch of her hands on my forehead.

All the old people I knew 

spoke English with sounds borrowed

from Russian and Polish, Yiddish and Romanian.

I assumed, as a girl, that I would speak like that, too,

when my hair turned gray and the pads of my thumbs

grew soft and pillowy.

Gathering parsley for the soup from my garden,

I seem to hear Nana saying my name

made rich with her guttural R's and broad A's.

"Bahbra, dahlink!" the birds are singing today.

I boil Manischewitz noodles, only adding them

to the bowl when I ladle out Nana's love.

Golden and gleaming with fat,

as bejeweled as the star-filled sky must have looked

when, shipboard, she tipped her kerchiefed head back

and filled her eyes

with all the dazzling possibilities,

and all the dangers, of a new place,

a new language, a new land.  Her favorite brother

waiting for her with his Romanian wife.

The brother-in-law she'd marry. 

Twenty-seven years following the end

of Nana's life, her love fills me up

and restores me.

Poem - The Secret of My Art by Chris Harris

The Secret of My Art

"It's a beautiful whale," my teacher declared.

"This drawing will get a gold star!'

"It's a beautiful whale," my father declared,

"Your talents will carry you far!"

It's a beautiful whale," my mother declared,

"What a wonderful artist you are!"

Well, maybe it is a beautiful whale . . .

But I was trying to draw a guitar,

Chris Harris

from the book I'm Just No Good At Rhyming

Talk about "you can't judge a book by its cover! : 

Poem - Take a Number by Mary O'Neill

I think this is an excerpt from the original full poem, it was taken from the book Marvelous Math, edited by Lee Bennett Hopkins,  It was written by Mary O'Neill.

from

Take a Number

Imagine a world

Without mathematics:

No rulers or scales,

No inches or feet,

No dates or numbers

On house or street,

No prices or weights,

No determining heights,

No hours running through

Days and nights.

No zero, no birthdays,

No way to subtract

All of the guesswork

Surrounding the fact.

No sizes for shoes,

Or suit or hat . . .

Wouldn’t it be awful

To live like that?

Poem: Sea Joy by Jacqueline Bouvier

Sea Joy

When I go down by the sandy shore
I can think of nothing I want more
Than to live by the blooming blue sea
As the seagulls flutter round about me

I can run about - when the tide is out
With the wind and the sand and the sea all about
And the seagulls are swirling and diving for fish
Oh - to live by the sea is my only wish..

           Jacqueline Bouvier
           from A Family of Poems (Kennedy)

Poem: What I Love About Summer by Douglas Florian

This is a wonderful example of a "LIST" poem:

What I Love About Summer

Morning glories

Campfire stories

Picking cherries

And blueberries

Riding bikes

Mountain hikes

Bird calls

Curve balls

Short sleeves

Green leaves

Swimming holes

Fishing poles

Nature walks

Corn stalks

Skipping stones

Ice cream cones

Double plays

And barefoot days.

                                Douglas Florian

                                from Summersaults (Florian)

Poem: The Moon was but a Chin of Gold by Emily Dickinson

The Moon was but a Chin of Gold

A night or two ago ---

And now she turns Her perfect Face

Upon the World below ---

                                    Emily Dickinson

Poem: Toad by the Road by Joanne Ryder

Toad by the Road

I’m only a toad

By the side of the road,

Watching the world go by.

Some bustle and hurry.

Some bustle and scurry.

Some wiggle, flicker, or fly.

They come and they go

On their way to and fro.

But I’d rather sit and sing.

It’s a glorious day,

So I’m happy to stay

And savor the songs of spring.

                        Joanne Ryder

Poem: Stone Wall by James Stevenson

Stone Wall

A strong stone wall
Is good to see:

All those different rocks
Working together
Getting along fine.

             James Stevenson

Poem: Bear in There by Shel Silverstein

Bear in There

There’s a Polar Bear

In our Frigidaire ---

He likes it ‘cause it’s cold in there.

With his seat in the meat

And his face in the fish

And his big hairy paws

In the buttery dish.

He’s nibbling the noodles,

He’s munching the rice,

He’s slurping the soda,

He’s licking the ice.

And he lets out a roar

If you open the door.

And it gives me a scare

To know he’s in there ---

That Polary Bear
In our Fridgitydaire.

              Shel Silverstein

POEM - A Poem for the Reader by Mary Ann Hoberman

A Poem for the Reader

You're on an adventure
About to start,
You're going to learn
Some poems by heart!
Short ones and long ones,
Old ones and new,
Happy ones, sad ones,
Some silly ones, too.
You'll pick out your favorites
From those that you've read
And invite them to live in
The house in your head.
This house is called Memory,
Everyone knows,
And the more you put in it,
The larger it grows.
The more that you give it,
The more it will give,
And your poems will live with you
As long as you live.

           ``Mary Ann Hoberman
              from Forget-Me-Nots: Poems to Learn by Heart

A Poem for November 14th

from Sing a Song of Seasons: A Nature Poem foe Each Day of the Year selected by Fiona Waters.

Penguin Poems

Emperor Penguins

Shuffle-shuffle.

That’s what emperor daddies do all winter long,

huddled in with a flock of other fathers,

each one shuffling with an egg balanced on his feet,

folded in a flap of skin to keep it warm ---

cuddled from the cold.

Shuffle-huddle, shuffle-huddle,

through dark and cruel cold,

through biting blizzards.

They are quiet heroes, waiting

for the peep peep of their hatching chick

and the voice of their mate, returning from the sea.

                By Nicola Davies

                From Song of the Wild: A First Book of Animals

Also about Emperor Penguins:

The Flying Leap

Built

to swim

not too slim

we don’t fly

wouldn’t try

waddle stop

belly-flop, slip

slide toboggan

glide - icy dash ends

with SPLASH! Wings

are fins for twirls and

spins, we plunge

below

pack ice and snow for

fish for krill for squid until

we’ve fished our fill.  Our

young ones will be overjoyed

if we avoid becoming meals

for leopard seals lurking grim

at ice floe’s rim.  We know they’re there

we’re well aware so we prepare:  our feathers trap air.

When we release bubbles our

swimming speed DOUBLES!

We jet from the sea

predator-free

we catch air – wheeeee!

by Leslie Bulion
from Superlative Birds

Diary of a Very Short Winter Day

At the first hint of dawn

I awake with a yawn

And follow my cousins

(All thirty-three dozen)

To the end of the land,

Where we stand and we stand,

Playing who’ll-dive-in-first,

And, fearing the worst,

We listen for seals

Who want us for meals.

I see one penguin lunge,

Then in we all plunge,

Take a bath, gulp a snack,

And climb out in a pack….

Hurry back to our home

For a quick preen and comb

So our feathers aren’t wet

As we watch the sun set.

                By Judy Sierra

                From Antarctic Antics: A Book of Penguin Poems

                Based on the real lives of emperor penguins

PICTURE BOOK - Every Day Birds by Amy Ludwig VanDerwater

Illustrated by Dylan Metrano

2016, Orchard (an Imprint of Scholastic!)

HC $17.99

32 pgs.

Goodreads rating:  4.35 (122 ratings)

My rating: 5, It's a beauty

Endpapers: Orange
Illustrations:  Layers of cut paper.  Bold.  Gorgeous.

My comments:  What a lovely way to illustrate a poem.  The amazing illustrations are layered cut paper.  A perfect picture book!The 4-page Afterward explains a bit about each bird, with a smaller size replica of the illustration.

The poem: 
Every day we watch the birds
weaving through our sky.

We listen to their calls ans songs.
We like to see them fly.
Chickadee wears a wee black c ap.
Jay is loud and bold.
Nuthatch perches upside-down
Finch is clothed in gold.
Hawk hunts every day for prey.
Cardinal flashes fire.
Woodpecker taps hollow trees.
Crow rests on a wire.
Heron fishes with his bill.
Sparrow hops in brown.
Mockingbird has many voices.
Pigeon lives in town.
Eagle soars above the land.
Oriole hangs her nest.
Owl swoops soundlessly late at night.
Robin puffs his chest.
Hummingbird drinks flower nectar.
Goose flies in a V.
Bluebird sleeps at meadow's edge.
Gull states at the sea.
Every day we watch for birds
living right outside our door.
We pay attention to the birds.
Every day we learn some more.

Goodreads:  Young readers are fascinated with birds in their world. Every Day Birds helps children identify and learn about common birds. After reading Every Day Birds, families can look out their windows with curiosity--recognizing birds and nests and celebrating the beauty of these creatures!
          Every Day Birds focuses on twenty North American birds, with a poem and descriptions written by Amy Ludwig VanDerwater and beautiful paper-cuttings by first-time picture book illustrator Dylan Metrano. Interesting facts about each bird are featured in the back of the book.

POETRY BOOK - What are you Glad about? What are you Mad about? by Judith Viorst

Poems for When a Person Needs a Poem
Illustrated by Lee White

2016, Atheneum Books for Young REaders

HC $17.99

102 pgs.

Goodreads rating: 3.83 (43 ratings)

My rating: 2

EndpapersL Solid Rust 

My comments:  I feel so badly not really liking a book of Judith Viorst's poetry!  I loved If I Were in Charge of the World, have read it over and over and shared poems with lots and lots of kids.  But after reading through these poems once I felt pretty "blah" about them, so I read them through again today.  I still feel blah about them....some seemed forced, some I found really hard to find any rhythm, words were put in odd sequences in order to fit some sort of rhyming pattern, and some of the thoughts and thinking don't seem to gel with the thoughts and thinking of the kids I've worked with for the last ten years or just made me roll my eyes.  I didn't give it a 1...I'll give Ms. Viorst the benefit of the doubt because she's always been high on my list...but I'm not keen on these poems at all.  And I feel really, really bad about that!

Goodreads:

I liked this poem a bit, the last one in the book, but even some of it (cadence, wording, rhythm) didn't do it for me::

In Between

Too old to need a night-light and
Too young to drive a car.
Too young for War and Peace, too old
For Where the Wild Things Are.
Too young to drink a latte and
Too old for sippy cups.
I'm in between and sometimes
I can't tell the downs from ups.

Too old to cry at flu shots and
Too young for a tattoo.
Too young for movies rated R.
Too old for Scooby-Doo.
Too old for booster seats, too young
For my own credit card.
I'm in between and often
In between is very hard.

Too young to give up whining and
Too old to run amok.
Too young for Don Giovanni and
Too old for Donald Duck.
Too old to keep my teddy bear,
Too young to let him go.
I'm in between and waiting
For the rest of me to grow.

CACOPHONY: My Favorite Word Found in a Poem!

Sounds of Rain

Rain's too small a word, too thin

to hold the whole cacophonous din

when drops like arrows

drill the muddy river.

Water plasters fur and feather,

splatters sodden vines and trees,

makes each leaf a drum.

You need a word

for booming bands,

geese honking off at dawn,

fire roaring up the flue,

bacon sizzling in a pan,

thunder shaking windowpanes --

There is no word big enough 

to hold forest rain.

       David Harrison

April is National Poetry Month

I can't believe how much there's going on in the Blogosphere/Kidlitosphere this month for kids and poetry.  Too much.  Check it all out HERE  Almost overwhelming!

A different poet adds to the poem each day.  It's pretty cool.  I'll copy it here:

A squall of hawk wings stirs the sky
A hummingbird holds and then hies
If I could fly, I'd choose to be
Sailing through a forest of poet-trees

A cast of crabs engraves the sand
Delighting a child's outstretched hand
If I could breathe under the sea
I'd dive, I'd dip, I'd dance with glee

A clump of crocuses crave the sun
Kites soar while joyful dogs run
I sing to spring to budding green
to all of life - seen and unseen

Wee whispers drift from cloud to ear
and finally reach one divining ear
who looks up from her perch and beams
West Wind is dreaming May, it seems

To a pied pocket the Zephyr returns
blowing soft words the seer discerns
from earthbound voyage to dreamy night,
The time is now.  I give  you flight!

Yet I fear I am no kite or bird -
I lift! The world below me blurred
by tears of joy.  I spiral high
I hum, I dive, I dip, I hive!

Behold!  Spring is but a dance away!
I grab my pen, then capture this day.

1 Laura at Writing the World for Kids

2 Joy at Joy Acey

3 Doraine at Dori Reads

4 Diane at Random Noodling

5 Penny at A Penny and Her Jots

6 Carol at Beyond LiteracyLink

7 Liz at Elizabeth Steinglass

8 Janet F. at Live Your Poem

9 Margaret at Reflections on the Teche

10 Pat at Writer on a Horse

11 Buffy at Buffy's Blog

12 Michelle at Today's Little Ditty

13 Linda at TeacherDance

14 Jone at Deo Writer

15 Matt at Radio, Rhythm and Rhyme

16 Violet at Violet Nesdoly

17 Kim at Flukeprints

18 Irene at Live Your Poem

19 Charles at Poetry Time

20 Ruth at There is No Such Thing as a Godforsaken Town

21 Jan at Bookseedstudio

22 Robyn at Life on the Deckle Edge

23 Ramona at Pleasures from the Page

24 Amy at The Poem Farm

25 Mark at Jackett Writes

26 Renee at No Water River

27 Mary Lee at Poetrepository

28 Heidi at My Juicy Little Universe

29 Sheila at Sheila Renfro

30 Donna at Mainely Write

POETRY PICTURE BOOK - In Aunt Giraffe's Green Garden by Jack Prelutsky

Illustrated by Petra Matthers

2007, Greenwillow Books

64 pgs.

Goodreads rating: 3.50

My rating: 3

Endpapers: rusty red

Title Page: double page, with the title (etc) on the LEFT page - nice to model that anything goes

Illustrations: borders around each page, pages numbered

Here's a poem I'd model  to show that even silly poems need to make sense:

The Poodles Ate Oodles of Noodles

The poodles ate oodles of noodles,

the setters ate lettuce on rye.

A small Pekingese

at nothing but peas,

and a greyhound ran off with the pie.

Here's one that plays with colors:

In Amarillo, Texas

In Amarillo, Texas,

upon a yellow chair,

complete with yellow pillow,

sat little Willa Ware.

She at a yellow apple,

she ate a yellow pear,

while wearing yellow flowers

atop her yellow hair.

And of course I must include one that features Maine - and uses the wonderful word galoshes: (and gives kids the ridiculous notion that you can wander the beach and find a LOBSTER!!!! ...oh my, Mr. Prelutsky....)

There's a Lady in Galoshes

There's a lady in galoshes,

and her name is Jolly Jane.

How she loves to look for lobsters

on the rocky coast of Maine.

She can find them by the dozen

in the sun and wind and rain.

She's the queen of lobster ladies,

and her name is Jolly Jane.

T

My comments:  I love Prelutsky, but this isn't one of my favorites.  The illustrations are cool, but the poems are pretty young - too young, in most cases, for me to use with fourth graders.

Goodreads:  In this companion to The Frogs Wore Red Suspenders, a gardening giraffe, a contented bluebird, and poodles eating oodles of noodles are featured in a collection of 28 poems from the award-winning team of Prelutsky and Mathers. Full color.