Poetry Friday: Celebrations and a Giveaway!

I’ve wanted to write this post for weeks, but with the unexpected loss of my mother-in-law, being under the weather for the past two weeks, and a crazy-busy schedule at school… Well, I just never got around to it until now.

I’m so proud to finally share my poems from the newest creation by our poetry superheroes Sylvia Vardell and Janet Wong, The Poetry Friday Anthology for Celebrations.

 

I love every one of the anthologies in the Poetry Friday Anthology series.  I use all of them with my middle school students.  Janet and Sylvia have made it easy for teachers, parents, and librarians to access high-interest poems and activities that meet CCSS standards.  (I’ll be sharing some of the many ways I use the various editions in a future post.)  

I'm giving away a copy of the teacher/librarian edition of  CELEBRATIONS.  Leave a comment to enter. The winner will be randomly drawn Monday, April 20.

 

I wrote poems for four different holidays. I was thrilled to learn two of my poems were accepted!  The first poem is for National Good Neighbor Day!

 

I also wrote a poem for Veteran’s Day.  I’m a veteran so it meant a lot to me to have my poem included. I joined the Air Force forty-one years ago. Our country was just ending its involvement in Vietnam.  Joining the military was not popular at the time, but it was one of the best decisions I ever made.

Here I am in my dress blues and fatigues.

The picture are pretty faded, but they were taken in 1974!

I had it easy. In those days, women weren’t permitted to serve in combat zones. My inspiration for the poem came from the men and women who risked their lives for our freedom. Every year, as a community service project, my students write thank you notes to our veterans. I wanted to do the same in the form of a poem. Veterans (and soldiers) are our true heroes!

DEAR VETERAN

You fought
for our freedom.                                                                                                                                   You kept our country safe.
Today we proudly honor you,
Hero.

-Linda Kulp Trout, all rights reserved
 

                                                                         

Be sure to stop by Robyn's place at Life on the Deckle Edge to read more about The Poetry Friday Anthology for Celebrations, an interview with Janet and Sylvia, and many other poetry offerings!

 

 

Poetry Friday: Fly South!

Several years ago, I lived across the street from a community pond.  It was a popular rest stop for geese.  I would often wake up to the sound of them honking their way to warmer climates. I loved watching them fly over my house as I imagined the teamwork involved in such a long flight. The memory of them inspired this tanka.

 

 

 

 

               Fly South

Fly south geese go— soon

        the earth will be covered in
               ice and snow—it’s time
                      to leave for warmer winds so
                               go—before winter begins.
                                                                           
                                                                              -Linda Kulp Trout , all rights reserved.
             

 

Last Sunday, my husband and I went in search of autumn. The air was crisp, the sky was bright blue, and the trees were at their peak.  We didn’t see any geese, but we did see a gorgeous lake.  This picture isn't very good, but it helps me remember our early morning walk and this beautiful autumn scene.

Be sure to stop by Merely Day by Day where Cathy is hosting this week's Poetry Friday!

Poetry Friday: Love Poems for Valentine's Day!

In honor of Valentine's Day, I'm reposting a few of my favorite collections of love poems along with some links to poetry collections.


Valentine Hearts selected by Lee Bennett Hopkins  is perfect for young readers because they will relate to poems about everything from heart-shaped sandwiches to  hoping for a special valentine and a love note for a special pet. I am honored to have a poem included in this very gorgeous little book.

                                                       Singing Valentine

                                                          Outside my window
on the icy ground below
a little bird sings:

   "Chick-a-dee
          
                        dee

                            dee

     Chick-a-dee

                       dee

                            dee."

A valentine melody
          just for me!

Linda Kulp, all rights reserved

Click here to read two poems from the collection by two very talented poets,  Rebecca Kai Dotlich and Marilyn Singer.

Hopscotch Love:  A Family Treasury in Love Poems by Nikki Grimes is a true “valentine delight” with poems about many different types of love.  The rhymed and unrhymed poems are written in variety of  forms including: letter poem, list, and free verse.  I love the vivid imagery and deep emotions in this collection.  Here is the beginning of one of my favorite poems from the collection.

Sweethearts Dance

He pulls her close
           She strokes his face
Their thoughts fly to
           Their starting place

Read the rest of the poem here, and you'll see why I'm such a big Nikki Grimes fan.


Check out these links for a few Young Adult collections I love:

I Am Wings and Buried Alive both by Ralph Fletcher

A Lion’s Hunger: Poems of First Love by Ann Turner

Partly Cloudy: Poems of Love and Longing by Gary Soto

Dizzy in Your Eyes: Poems About Love by Pat Mora


 I found the next two collections several years ago while browsing the poetry section in my local Borders. It's unfortunate that so many wonderful book stores have closed.  I used to have a lot of fun discovering treasures such as these.

Also check out: Love Poems by Charles Ghigna. After you read these beautiful poems, you might want to pen your own poem for someone you love.  Charles provides us with inspiration and advice here.

Love Poems by Nikki Giovanni.  I come back to these poems again and again! 



If you have other favorite collections of love poetry, please share the titles with me so I can add them to my bookshelf.

Happy Valentine's Day!

Be sure to stop by to see Sally for more Poetry Friday to love today!

Poetry Friday: I Will Remember You

After a long illness, my mother passed away on June 10.  I know I should have been expecting it, but she's had so many close calls and recovered that this really caught all of us off-guard. In the minutes after she took her last breath, I sat on the bed next her holding her hand.  It felt so surreal. The clock kept ticking, nurses continued collecting breakfast trays from other patients, and someone was talking loudly in the hallway outside Mom's room. Nothing seemed to have changed. Other than the nurse who pronounced her, no one else seemed to notice. Mom's heart had stopped beating, but the world kept going. I don't know what I was expecting, but when someone dies, it seems like everything should stop, at least for a moment.

I know Mom had some regrets, but her life mattered. She was the one person who knew me even before I was born. She was there through the good times and the bad. The world will not be the same without her. 

I still think about my mother every day and wish I'd done more to show her how much she meant to me. Now, all I can do is try to honor her by keeping her memory alive and telling others about her.  There are many things I want to remember about her and share with my grandchildren who are too young to have known her.  I wrote this poem the night after she died, and with my two wonderful sons by my side, I  read it at her memorial.  I hope she was listening.

“To live in the hearts we leave behind, is not to die.”
                                    ― Thomas Campbell

Dear Mom,

I will remember you—

every time I see a pink carnation,
hear someone mention
“Roses, Roses Sachet”
or smell the scent of lavender.

I will remember —
you always made sure
we had clean clothes,
dinner on the table,
and presents under the tree

Money was tight
but somehow you managed
to buy our school pictures,
take us to carnivals and out
for snowballs on hot summer nights

I will remember you—
sitting at the kitchen table
hemming a pair of pants
working on a paint-by-number,
or rolling out dough for pumpkin pies

You loved
going on long car rides,
chocolate ice cream,
having your hair done
and playing Bingo

I’ll remember your smile,
how you loved to dance,
your dream to go to Africa,
your love of animals and angels
and stories of your childhood.

You filled my life with music,
song lyrics that taught me,
 “You Can’t Hurry Love”
“Dream, Dream, Dream,” and
“The Circle Will Be Unbroken”

You were afraid of dying
but you need not have worried
because you will live forever—
in the hearts of all who love you.

Until I see you again, Mom
I will remember you.

Yesterday, this poem arrived in my inbox. It reminded me of that day in June, and how "normal" the world continued to be.

The Day I Die

by Krista Lukas

will be a Saturday or a Tuesday, maybe.
A day with a weather forecast,
a high and a low. There will be news:
a scandal, a disaster, some good
deed. The mail will come. People
will walk their dogs.


You can read the rest of the poem here.
.  A special thank you to Sherry for hosting Poetry Friday today!

A Father's Day Poem for My Sons

Your Dad
-for Chris and Tim

My greatest joy has been
watching the two of you grow
from little boys to men
I admire and respect.

I’d like to take credit
for the men you've become,
but there's someone who
deserves it more.

Your dad—
worked twelve-hour days
six days a week
at a job he didn’t love,
but it paid the bills.

Every night he'd come home tired and dirty,
ask us about our day,
then take a quick shower
while I started dinner.

Within minutes
I'd see him playing
with his two small sons
racing Match-box cars
across the living room floor.

Dinner was always laced with laughter.
Your dad would get it going
telling some funny story about work or
poking gentle fun at one of us.
We laughed more than we chewed.

Sundays, he was behind the wheel
taking us on long drives--
back country roads to get homemade ice cream,
through the mountains to see autumn trees, or just
cruising through neighborhoods to see Christmas lights.

Your dad--
coached your Little League games,
helped with scout meetings,
and cheered you on
at karate competitions.

When you graduated from high school
college, grad school—
He was there.
He may not have said it, but
he was so proud of you.

Your dad--
taught you to drive,
helped you get your first car,
made your friends feel welcome,
and danced at your wedding.

He couldn’t buy you
everything he wanted to. 
So he gave you
everything he had.

It's no wonder
you turned out so well, and
I should have told you long ago
how thankful I am
he's your dad.


“You don't raise heroes, you raise sons. And if you treat them like sons, they'll turn out to be heroes, even if it's just in your own eyes.” ― Walter M. Schirra, Sr.

Poetry Friday

The 2012 Madness Poetry Tournament has come to an end,but you can still read the poems written by the 64 poets who participated.  Many thanks to Ed DeCaria for organizing and sponsoring the Madness! He was an amazing host who tirelessly answered participants' questions and provided constant encouragement. He did a fabulous job of planning this event, and he even designed a trophy for the champion.  It's obvious he put in a lot of time and effort to get something like this going.

What a delight it was to read the poems. The quality is amazing. Remember, poets had only 36 hours from the time they got their assigned word to write their poems.  Deciding on which poem to vote for in each match-up was a challenge! 

Although I only lasted one round, I had a great time being part of the fun. My word was synthetic.  When I first saw my word, I freaked a little. I had no idea where this word would lead me, but after about a dozen false starts, time was running out.  I finally decided to try writing a limerick anyone with a sibling might relate to. I'm always nervous about posting my poems, but I'm trying to push myself to take more risks,  so here goes.
Broken XBox

His words are apologetic
But I know they’re simply synthetic—
With tears in his eyes
My brother spews out his lies
Hoping I’ll be sympathetic!

I don't usually write humor and meter is always a stretch for me.  I was just grateful to come up with something using the word synthetic, and I enjoyed being part of a poetry-writing community! Ed has decided to make the tournament an annual event!  So,  I'm looking forward to many years of Madness! 

Now on to the next event-  the Progressive Poem!  Head on over to  A Year of Reading to read the poem so far. It's going to be fun to watch how it unfolds during the rest of the month!
A big thank you to Robyn at Read, Write, Howl for hosting Poetry Friday today!

Poetry Friday: The Silence of War

Every year my students write letters to our soldiers thanking them for the job they do. The kids really put their hearts into the letters and show their support for our military men and women. I can't imagine how lonely they must be so far from home, especially during the holidays.

I was about the age of my students durng the war in Vietnam. It was a time in my life that I'm not proud of. I had the chance to ease the loneliness of one young solider, but I didn't. Something as simple as writing a letter could've made all the difference. Silence can be the worst weapon of all.

After reading the letters my students so wrote, I started working on this poem trying to figure out what I was thinking back then.


The Silence of War

We only dated once before
you enlisted in the Army.
You chose to go.
I kissed you good-bye.

Letters arrived, unexpectedly
postmarked Da Nang
long, lonely letters from Vietnam
long, lonely letters from you.

What did you mean, wait for you?
I wasn't your girl.
At seventeen, I was thinking
pale blue prom dresses

high school graduation
burgundy cap and gown—
not Army dress greens
or camouflage fatigues.

You were on the other side
of the planet— foreign to me
I couldn't promise to wait for you
Your world was not my world.

I didn't want to hurt you.
I didn't want you to think
I was waiting for you—
I didn't write back.

For fifteen months
your letters came.
I read every one.
I saved every one—

Then nothing.
No letters.
No news of you.
Silence—

Yesterday, I saw you
home on leave.
You looked my way,
I turned in shame.

I could’ve made a difference
I could’ve let you know
I really did care—
Even now, I remain silent.

Poetry Friday: Villanelle

As teachers, our students often expect us to have all the answers. Many years ago, I was assigned to teach the brand new "Just Say No" drug prevention unit to 75 fifth graders. The school was located in a small low-income community. I lived just a few miles from the school and knew many of the children and their families.

As I started preparing my "Just Say No" lessons, I couldn't help but think of how the lives of some of the children had been affected by drugs and alcohol. I'd heard the stories; I'd seen the pain in their eyes. They knew much more about the subject than I did. How could I teach them about something they lived with everyday? That question led to writing this villanelle in my poetry journal.

(I don't know if it's okay to separate the last stanza of a villanelle into two couplets, but I thougtht a pause was needed. I once had a teacher who said it's better to focus on the meaning of the poem than stick to a strict form. What do you think?)


Preparing a Lesson on Drug Abuse

I see in their eyes what they try not to show,
these ten year olds living in anger and fear.
What can I teach them they don’t already know?

Sam’s mom left him for drugs— six months ago
But he still hasn’t cried one tear.
I see in his eyes what he tries not to show.

Katie Davis’ grades have fallen so low,
she lost her smile— and her brother last year.
What can I teach her she doesn’t already know?

His parents vowed to quit drinking, but Joe's
heard it before— (the words insincere).
I see in his eyes what he tries not to show.

And Jen doesn’t have a winter coat although
her father always finds money for beer.
What can I teach her she doesn’t already know?

I wonder what’ll happen to them as they grow.
The people they’ll become remains unclear.

I see in their eyes what they try not to show.
What can I teach them they don’t already know?

copyright2009 Linda Kulp

I used to live across the street from a large pond. All summer long, I watched as geese came to make the pond their home. I watched them care for their young, waddle through the long thick grass around the pond, mourn the death of a mate, and aggresively chase unsuspecting trespassers.

It was always sad when it came time for them head to their winter home. Lying in bed, listening to the haunting sound of their leaving meant the long, quiet winter was about to begin.


Fly South

fly south geese go— soon
the earth will be covered with
ice and snow it’s time
to head for warmer winds so—
go now before winter begins


Here is the link to read a lovely poem about these amazing creatures.
http://www.canadageese.org/remorse.html

Ring/Drum/Blanket Poem

Over at Wild Rose Reader, Elaine interviewed one of my favorite poets, Janet Wong. I have several of Janet's books and use them frequently with my students. One of her books, Behind the Wheel, was the inspiration for my teacher presentation for the Maryland Writing Project. The poems were a big hit with the teachers and with teenaged boys. (I'm always looking for ways to get boys to read more poetry, but that's a blog for another day.)
Elaine and Janet issued an invitation to write a poem using the following three words: ring, drum, blanket. I usually don't feel confident enough about my poems to share them with the poets I admire like Janet and Elaine, but Laura Salas wrote a blog the other day that encouraged me to share my "poem-sketches." It takes the pressure off when I think of my poems as works-in-progess. I've always believed in the adage, "A poem is never really finished, just abandoned." I'm not sure I've totally abandoned this little poem yet, but here's what I have so far. It's another tanka. I've been writing tanka for a few years now, and have even had a few published. I like the brevity of the form and trying to paint an image/emotion with just a few words. So here goes.


ring of white-tailed deer
circle our crabapple tree
hooves drum frozen ground
pulling back blankets of snow
in search of a midnight snack




I don't belong to a writer's group so suggestions are always appreciated. Now, I'm wondering if I'm up for Elaine's next challenge, an apology poem. : )

Remembering My Grandmother

I've been thinking about my grandmother. She had the courage to listen to her heart and find happiness in the years after my grandfather passed. Some family members didn't approve of the choices she made, but I admired her for doing what she knew was right for her. I wish I would've told her.

The Lesson

The first stitch takes the most courage,
Grandma said, threading a silver needle.
Don't think too hard about the design,
just let the pieces come together,

Grandma said, threading a silver needle.
When you feel the fabric in your fingers
just let the pieces come together
naturally, it will always be right.

When you feel the fabric in your fingers
don't wait for others to admire the pattern--
naturally, it will always be right.
Even if no one else understands it.

Don't wait for others to admire the pattern.
don't think too hard about the design,
even if no one else understands it.
The first stitch takes the most courage.


copyright 1996 Linda Kulp

Remembering Grandpa

My grandfather always made me feel special. He loved to play his old banjo and have me sing along. He taught me the words to his favoritie song, "Bye-Bye Blackbird." We'd sit together in the kitchen and sing it over and over. Whenever I think of him, I think of that song. It was impossible to feel sad when he was around.
Sadly, his life was short and my sons never got to know him. I wrote this poem in memory of him for Father's Day.

Singing Lessons

Every Sunday after supper, Grandpa
takes out his banjo.
A rush of music
fills the empty air
like a flock of blackbirds—
and he asks me to sing.

Together, on the porch swing, we sing.
Sitting there with Grandpa,
our songs call out to the blackbirds
while his fingers fly across the banjo
sweetening the air
with our family music.

As sunlight turns to starlight, the music,
the laughter, and the bright way we sing
warm the chilly air.
I slide closer to Grandpa,
one with him and his banjo:
"Bye, bye blackbirds."

We serenade the blackbirds.
The fluttering sound of music
strumming the banjo,
and voices that need to sing
surround Grandpa
and me with ribbons of air.

Protecting us from the cool night air
like a nest wrapped around two blackbirds
Grandpa
covers me in music
teaching me to sing
even when there's no banjo.

A worn out old banjo,
the taste of words soaring through the air,
a chance to clap my hands and sing,
cherishing a gathering of blackbirds,
the freedom of music:
gifts from Grandpa.

Just a banjo and some blackbirds
replenish the air with music
as I sting, still, with Grandpa.
Linda Kulp- all rights reservered

Hampsters, Shells, and Spelling Bees

Lee Bennett Hopkins' newest book, Hampsters, Shells, and Spelling Bees (HaperCollins) arrived in my mailbox. You can imagine how proud I am to have one of my poems (below) included among those of such greats as J. Patrick Lewis, Alice Schertle, Rebecca Kai Dotlich, Heidi Roemer, and Jane Yolen. The collection of twenty school poems about spelling bees, backpacks, the excitement a bee causes as it buzzes through the classroom are sure to delight young readers. The poems are beautifully illustrated by Sachiko Yoshikawa. Children will see themselves and their classmates in these wonderful poems. It will make an excellent addition to the classroom library.







True Love

Every day
after school
my cat sits
on the windowsill
waiting,
watching
for me
to come home
from school.
I open
the door
to her
purr--ing.

POETRY FRIDAY

Bullying has been in the news a lot lately. Most of us have been bullied. Bullying isn’t new, but it seems to be increasing in intensity.

For the past two years, our school has participated in an anti-bullying program. Through role-playing activities, students and teachers are taught about the effects of bullying and how they can help stop it. Kids are still being bullied, but we've seen an increase in reporting it by the victims and by kids who witness it. When bullying is reported, all the kids that were involved (the bully, the target, bystanders, etc.) receive counseling. We are working hard to make our school a safe place for all kids.

Over the years, I've known many kids who have been the victims of bullying. It's a heartbreaking part of my job. Last night, I couldn't sleep so I wrote this poem. My hope is to work on it some more so when my students read it, they'll see that they can take an active role in stopping a bully. Wonderful readers, your suggestions are much appreciated.


Jamie

Some guys at school
make fun of Jamie
because he’s overweight.
Guys who used to be his friend
before Billy came to our school
and decided he didn’t like Jamie.

Now they call him ugly names
make faces at him
laugh when he walks by—
“ Oink” at him in the hall.

Jamie is always alone,
sits alone, works alone,
eats lunch alone.
Everyone stays away—
too afraid to be his friend.

I stay away too- afraid.
But Jamie is nice to me.
He offered to help when
I didn’t understand fractions.
He gave me a pencil when
I lost mine.

I feel sorry for him
but I don’t know what to do,
so I do nothing—

I’m afraid
if I speak up
they will pick on me too.
I’m afraid I’ll be called a snitch
I’m afraid I’ll end up alone—
just like Jamie.

Then tonight
I heard on TV
about a kid like Jamie
who ended his life
because he couldn’t take
being bullied
any longer.

I thought about Jamie
the way his eyes always
look so sad
The way he always
looks so scared.

And I decided
tomorrow
I’m telling
somebody.

POETRY FRIDAY: North Star

Saturday is the last day of my challenge to write a poem a day during the month of July.  It's been a learning experience, both difficult and fun.  My goal was to have at least thirty poems I could continue to revise and polish during the school year.  I ended up with about twenty.  Some days I went back to revise the poem from the previous day and never got around to writing a new one. Even though I didn't meet my goal, I feel good about the experience, and I'm glad stuck with it.

This week I worked on writing poems that tell a story.

North Star



The summer our parents got divorced, my
brother and I were sent to the country
to stay with Grandma. I was eight, Jim was
ten— not knowing then how our lives would change—
we were wishing for something permanent.


Grandma knew
what we needed.


Every evening after supper
she led us to the backyard to watch
stars snuggle into the folds of night.


Tracing constellations
she explained
They change with the seasons,
but some things stay—
constant.


She taught us how to follow the Big
Dipper to the North Star— with a promise
it would be there when we need
to find our way home.


While Mom and Dad were splitting
a house of furniture and dishes—
Grandma kept Jim and me nestled
in the constant compass
of her love —

POETRY FRIDAY: Miss Myrtle's Table

Miss Myrtle's Table


Every Saturday
Mom and I clean
Miss Myrtle’s house.


I like cleaning the dining room best,
it’s toasty warm in winter,
cool as a peppermint stick in summer.
The smell of cinnamon buns baking floats
from the kitchen.

And three tall windows let sunshine tiptoe
across the room all morning long.


I glide the dust mop over the hardwood floor
sweeping it around and around the big
chocolate brown table that stands
in the center of the room surrounded
by twelve matching chairs.


The table is covered with lace
like a hundred tiny snowflakes
carefully stitched together.

Cradled on top—
a dozen crystal candy dishes
each filled with sweet treasures:
lemon drops, caramel creams
butterscotch, bonbons, and lollipops.


I circle the table polishing it
watching wrappers sparkle like jewels.
I look over the candies carefully
imagining the liquid of lemon,
the crunch of peanut brittle,
the creaminess of chocolate kisses.


But I don’t touch them
because I know it’s not polite—

At the end of the day
Miss Myrtle pays Mom
and offers me the pick of the table.

It’s so hard to choose.

When I finally do,
I unwrap the candy
and place it on my tongue
holding it there
allowing it to melt
slowly
hoping
all the sweetness
will last.

When I was a little girl, we lived next door to my great-aunt.  She had big family dinners every Sunday, and there was always the most delicious smells coming from her oven.  Her house was filled with beautiful furniture, an organ, a piano (things I'd never seen in any one's house.) The thing that amazed me the most was a huge table with beautiful candy dishes filled with every type of candy your could imagine.  It looked so magical in the sunlight. 

More than forty years have passed since I last saw that table, and yet I still remember the excitement of choosing any candy I wanted.  Sometimes, she would give me a bag of candy to take home. I felt rich as I shared my bounty with my brother and sisters.  Even the bellyache was worth it!

To enjoy more poetry fun, head on over to Language, Literacy, Love for today's Poetry Friday Roundup!

POETRY FRIDAY: Poems about Objects

Do you have an object that you never or hardly ever use, but you keep it because it reminds you of someone or someplace special? When I look around my house, I see all sorts of things that I don't use, but I could never part with them.  For instance, there's the mantle clock my mother gave me that hasn’t worked in years, a tarnished necklace from my first boyfriend (almost 40 yrs.ago), a baby spoon bent from getting stuck in the disposal, movie ticket stubs, a cocktail umbrella from a night out, and  a stuffed bunny my 12 yr. old cat played with when he was a kitten. Some people would see these items as junk, but to me they are all treasures. I keep them because they hold memories, and looking at them keeps a special time in my life alive. This week I wrote poems about objects.  I had a hard time coming up with the "so what" endings I was aiming for, but I decided to share two of them anyway. I welcome your suggestions.
                                          

Dad's Corvette

Every Saturday
Dad waxes his Corvette
until it shines
Candy apple red


But he hardly ever drives it anymore
with its engine that rattles and roars
so loud you can hear it
two streets away
(so embarrassing).


When Dad asks
if I want to go for a ride
I just roll my eyes
and shake my head
NO!

This morning when
I asked Mom why he keeps
that good-for-nothing car
she said it’s not just a car,
for Dad, it’s about memories


Memories
of their first date
and how they got soaked
in a sudden spring shower
before Dad put the top up


Memories
of me age three
sitting behind the wheel
pretending to drive


Memories
of going to car shows
with Grandpa
the year before he died


Now I understand
It’s like my collection of postcards—
they help me remember
all the places I’ve been


So next time Dad asks
if I want to go for a ride
I won’t roll my eyes
or shake my head—
I’ll  just smile and say
YES!

                                                                      
Grandma's Teacup


Grandma’s favorite teacup
sits on the kitchen shelf
she gave it to me to remember
our tea parties—
       the two of us sipping
       cinnamon apple tea
       eating oatmeal raisin cookies
       and playing card games


But every year that passes
I remember less and less
So now and then
I take her teacup down
and make cinnamon apple tea
just the way she showed me
and all the sweet memories
of Grandma
float back
with every sip

The Poetry Friday Roundup is at my juicy little universe.











                                                              

POETRY FRIDAY: My Poetry Month So Far...

This week I did a lot of playing with poetry exercises and forms. I didn’t put much time into revising because my goal was just to have fun and get some rough drafts down.

One exercise I tried came from Charles Ghigna’s Father Goose blog. The idea is to write metaphors for a poem. This would be an excellent activity for introducing the concept of metaphor to students. You can check out the details of the exercise here.

I wrote four little "poems" comparing a poem to all sorts of things such as a skateboard, a comet, and a kitten. I wrote this one after looking at a picture of my grand-daughter, Evie.

A poem is a baby
Smiling up at you
Full of surprise and wonder
Discovering something new

Another picture of Evie inspired this little poem.

Swimsuit Edition

Those models in that magazine
They think they’re pretty cute—
But they haven’t seen me yet
In my brand new bathing suit

I also worked on some tanka.

Left Out


Boys shooting baskets
laughter bounces through the air
I sit on the porch
watching them and wondering

Why won't they ask me to play?


Waiting

Maggie’s father left
in the middle of the night
without a good-bye—
It’s been over a year now
she still waits for his return.


No letter, no calls
she believes he once loved her—
Did he change his mind
wanting his freedom instead
of a daughter who still waits.


A special thank you to Amy (The Poem Farm), her encouraging words were much appreciated this week!

Carol's Corner is our host for Poetry Friday this week.

Poetry Friday

For the past ninety-two days, I've  been enjoying the very talented Amy Ludwig VanDerwater's daily poems.  In fact, I've enjoyed her work so much that she has inspired me to jump on board and try my hand at writing poems for the month of July.  I"m only working part-time this month, so it's the perfect time to try this experiment.

This month I'm hoping to accomplish three things: to get into a daily writing routine, to gain more confidence in my writing, and to have a group of poem sketches I can revise and polish during the school year. 

I'm  nervous about sharing this commitment, but I need to make myself accountable.   To stay on track, I'll post an update every Friday.  I don't have the time or confidence to post daily poems, but I promise to be honest about my progress. 

I am grateful to Amy for encouraging me to try this experiment. If you want to read some great poems head on over to  The Poem Farm. Amy is also our host this week for Poetry Friday.

Today I'm sharing the first poem sketch  from MyPoWriMo. I decided to make a list of some of my favorite things about summer, and this is what I came up with so far.

Summer Fun


Snow cones, sweet tea, lemonade
Ice cream, picnics,and parades

Riding skateboards, scooters, bikes
Sunday morning nature hikes


Baseball games played in the park
Catching fireflies after dark


Watching movies, staying up late
Sleeping in way past eight


Playing outside in the sun—
Let’s go have some summer fun!

POETRY FRIDAY: Dizzy Dinosaurs

Dizzy Dinosaurs is a new I CAN READ! collection of dinosaur poems by Lee Bennett Hopkins, available February 2011. Young children love dinosaurs, and they are going to love this funny book. Barry Gott's detailed illustrations are hilarious and reflect the personalities of these very silly dinosaurs. I feel so fortunate to have my poem, "Saltopus" included in Dizzy Dinosaurs.

Saltopus

I am Saltopus.
I am nasty. I am mean.
My teeth are sharp as daggers.
My legs are short and lean.

I dine on luscious lizards.,
bugs are tasty snacks.
I am a mighty hunter—
I'm ready to attack.

I am Saltopus.
My brain is rather small.
I could be a Dino King—
But I'm just one foot
tall.

Thank you, Lee for including my poem. Thank you Barry Gott, your illustration is sure to spark lots of laughter!