MotherReader

Friday, August 22, 2008

Poetry Friday: Dr. Horrible

My whole family is obsessed with Dr. Horrible’s Sing-Along Blog. We sing the songs all the time. I mean, all the time. So, on recommendation of my seventh grader when I lamented being stuck for a Poetry Friday entry, here’s part of the first song. It’s about five minutes into the viewing.

Laundry day
See you there
Underthings
Tumbling.

Want to say
Love your hair
Here I go
Mumbling.

With my freeze ray
I will stop
the world.

With my freeze ray
I will find the time
to find the words.

If you haven’t seen Dr. Horrible’s Sing-Along Blog yet, then OMG what’s wrong with you!!?? Go. Go NOW!

Poetry Friday is hosted over at Read. Imagine. Talk. I’m not sure this counts, but I’m putting it in anyway because I am the original maverick. Have a great summer weekend.

Labels: Poetry Friday

Friday, August 15, 2008

Poetry Friday: World’s Greatest

What a great concept, using world records as the inspiration for poetry. Kids love the Guiness Book of World Records. Kids sometimes need to be coaxed into poetry. So what a perfect combination in The World’s Greatest Poems, written by J. Patrick Lewis and illustrated by Keith Graves.

The poems cover a variety of topics, many of them true oddities. The Shortest Street. The Dumbest Dinosaur. The Largest Mantle of Bees. My favorite two records used are The Most Live Scorpions Eaten by a Human and The Most Cobras Kissed Consecutively, but the poem I’ll share is one that reminds me of summer:

The Tallest Roller Coaster

You’re swerving north,
You’re curving south,
Your stomach sits
Inside your mouth.

You hold your breath,
You lose your nerve,
You’re scared to death
At every curve.

You’re feeling very
Sick, but then
You tell your Dad,
“Let’s go again!”

The poem reminds me of my youngest daughter’s first roller coaster experience, when she was seven. She really wanted to go, having second thoughts only as we got to the end of the line. She sat next to me without too much encouragement, but as the train started creeping up the first hill she said quietly, “I don’t think I like this.” Then as the roller coaster made its first dive, she shouted “MOMMMMMMYYYYYYYYYYY!!!!” I felt so bad for her — and at the same time, I couldn’t stop laughing. Which made me feel even worse. Honestly, it’s still funny thinking of it now. But just like the poem, after a little rest, she wanted to try the roller coaster again.

Poetry Friday is hosted over at Big A, little a.

Labels: Poetry Friday

Friday, July 11, 2008

Poetry Friday: Yes We Can

Let’s have a Barack’n day, shall we?

First, a photo I found on Flickr that shows me and the girls at the Obama speech. Follow the long blue light down and you’ll see my fourth grader directly underneath. My seventh grader is to one side with a blue hat, and I’m on the other side. You can click on the picture for a closer look at where we’re sitting, and go here for the original and more pictures. I guess I didn’t need my camera after all.

In honor of my recent Obama encounter, I wanted to show a Wordle I made of his famous speech. But I couldn’t find my original attempt, so I did it again, and it turned out better than the first one. Here is my “Yes We Can” Wordle:

In addition, I pulled together some of the text of the New Hampshire speech. I cut some parts to give it more of a poetic feel, but truly this speech is pure poetry to me. And as he mentioned in yesterday’s talk, he wrote it himself. I had planned to put this up for Independence Day, but as it turns out today is perfect for it, too.

We know the battle ahead will be long,
but always remember
that no matter what obstacles stand in our way,
nothing can withstand the power
of millions of voices calling for change...

We’ve been warned against
offering the people of this nation false hope.
But in the unlikely story that is America,
there has never been anything false
about hope.

For when we have faced down impossible odds;
when we’ve been told that we’re not ready,
or that we shouldn’t try,
or that we can’t,
generations of Americans have responded
with a simple creed
that sums up the spirit of a people.
Yes we can.

It was a creed written into the founding documents
that declared the destiny of a nation.
Yes we can.

It was whispered by slaves and abolitionists
as they blazed a trail toward freedom
through the darkest of nights.
Yes we can.

It was sung by immigrants
as they struck out from distant shores
and pioneers who pushed westward
against an unforgiving wilderness.
Yes we can.

It was the call of workers who organized;
women who reached for the ballot;
a President who chose the moon as our new frontier;
and a King who took us to the mountaintop
and pointed the way to the Promised Land.

Yes we can to justice and equality.
Yes we can to opportunity and prosperity.
Yes we can heal this nation.
Yes we can repair this world.
Yes we can....

And so we will remember
that there is something happening in America;
that we are not as divided as our politics suggests;
that we are one people;
we are one nation;
and together, we will begin the next great chapter
in America’s story with three words
that will ring from coast to coast;
from sea to shining sea —
Yes. We. Can.

The amazing music video interpretation is here, and Poetry Friday is hosted by Under the Covers.

Labels: Obama, Photos, Poetry Friday

Friday, June 27, 2008

Poetry Friday: Summer Days

I’ve looked through my files, and I don’t have anything that’s right for Poetry Friday, hosted today at Biblio File. However, as I was playing around in my archives looking for the beach books, I stumbled on this poem that I pulled together last year with your help. It was a contest where you readers had to list one summer pleasure in the comments, but then clever me, I turned them into a poem. Actually, two poems — this is the second one.

Summer Day

Getting up early,
Before anyone else is awake,
And weeding the garden as the sun rises.
Enjoying the luxury of a second breakfast
Of just-made blueberry muffins.
Kids on the patio
Knowing there is no reason
to rush off
Unless it is to have
an adventure.
Walking at the edge of the ocean
Collecting interesting
Shells,
Rocks,
Sharks’ teeth
And looking out over
The breathtaking sea.
Wearing flip-flops or
Going barefoot.
Eating crabs on the back porch
Or popsicles under a shady tree.
Buying the sweetest strawberries.
Or picking them from a patch.
Every choice, every option
a pure delight.
Listening to crickets
and the songs of tree frogs
as the night falls.
Staying out past bedtime
Catching fireflies in glass jars
And then
At the very close of the day
Setting them free.

I’m ready for my summer days to begin. Even though I’ve been to the beach and the pool, even though we had an intense heat wave and several thunderstorms, I’m not in summer mode. I’m still playing catch-up from the end of the school year and my mother’s visit and even the 48 Hour Book Challenge.

I’m hoping to turn the corner this weekend as my new library branch has its grand opening on Saturday, and I have my first totally free, no-obligation day on Sunday. Then it’s day camp for the girls, and the first meeting of the summer book club with my Girl Scouts. Don’t forget to join us on Wednesday, July 2nd, to discuss Shug, by Jenny Han. Followed by a bonus author interview! We’ll be snacking on cherry popsicles here, and I might suggest you do the same. After all, it’s summer.

Labels: Original Poetry, Poetry Friday, Summer

Friday, June 13, 2008

Poetry Friday: Our Deepest Fear

I wanted to post here in the last couple of days, but I needed a little break. I wish I could convey the depth of chaos that has enveloped my last two weeks. A thirty-six hour power outage. Then two solid days without air conditioning in a brutal heat wave. Another power outage on Tuesday night until the wee hours of the morning. And all this while coordinating the 48 Hour Book Challenge, starting my job at my new branch (which is lovely), and finishing up the last week at school.

Some of this activity has been fun. I loved having tea with friends and watching my daughter enjoy her Brownie party. Some things have been stressful, like trying to finish my Girl Scout money report, realizing that I’ve made a big mistake in it somewhere and now need to dig — literally — through records to find out where the right paper is with the right number. Some things have been amusing. I’d say putting an ice pack in the hamster cage so Honey Bear doesn’t die of heat stroke falls in this category. My 8:00 a.m. call to a friend asking for anything for a Christopher Columbus costume for that very day was also a rather comic moment.

But in all of the chaos and activity and comedy, the thread running through it all is that my sixth grader is leaving elementary school today. It’s hard to believe. I remember that we made sure to move before kindergarten started so that she would have the same school the whole time. I remember taking her in that first day and looking around to find her little friends so that she wouldn’t be scared. One of the two girls we discovered that day is still her best friend now.

When I had a Bridging ceremony for my sixth grade Junior troop, they wanted a poem. Being that all of them forgot to find one, and being that I knew that they would forget, I brought my own. It’s one that I’ve seen a few times in Poetry Friday, but I want to share it on my own site today in honor of my daughter’s big move to middle school.

Our Deepest Fear
by Marianne Williamson

Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate.
Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure.
It is our light, not our darkness
That most frightens us.

We ask ourselves
Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous?
Actually, who are you not to be?
You are a child of God.

Your playing small
Does not serve the world.
There’s nothing enlightened about shrinking
So that other people won’t feel insecure around you.

We are all meant to shine,
As children do.
We were born to make manifest
The glory of God that is within us.

It’s not just in some of us;
It’s in everyone.

And as we let our own light shine,
We unconsciously give other people permission to do the same.
As we’re liberated from our own fear,
Our presence automatically liberates others.

Poetry Friday round-up is over at A Wrung Sponge today. I’ll be back next week with news, reviews, and interviews. Shine on.

Labels: Personal Stories, Poetry Friday

Friday, May 30, 2008

Poetry Friday: Red Butterfly

When a young Chinese princess is sent from her father’s kingdom to marry a king in a faraway land, she brings along the secret most treasured by her people. Red Butterfly: How a Princess Smuggled the Secret of Silk Out of China, by Deborah Noyes, brings the story to life with spare free verse, retold in the style of T’ang Dynasty poetry.

In my father’s kingdom
there are many splendors.
Most valued of all is silk.
Faraway rulers wish for China’s
wealth and call it
woven wind.

Silk, my red butterfly wings flapping,
is our people’s solemn secret,
thousands of moons old,
spun by a little worm that feeds
on the mulberry leaves
in Father’s gardens.
While I walk,
it whispers,
whispers.

The text is lovely, if perhaps sometimes obscure for younger readers. The illustrations by Sophie Blackall are breathtaking, capturing a traditional Asian style and fusing it with an original interpretation. Months ago, the stunning cover of this book caught my eye, and the pages within did not disappoint. Simply a lovely book in art and word. It could be paired with The Silk Princess for a fuller story of one of China’s true gifts to the world.

Poetry Friday is hosted by Wild Rose Reader. Head over and see what else is in store for you there.

Labels: Picture Books, Poetry Friday

Friday, May 23, 2008

Poetry Friday: Dirt on My Shirt

A Jeff Foxworthy poetry book? To the BACAmobile!!!

So Jeff Foxworthy wrote kid poetry. I don’t mean that he wrote poetry for kids — I mean that he wrote poetry like a kid. If you saw it on your child’s elementary school homework, you’d be mildly amused. But from an adult? Oh, not good. And there is no way on God’s green earth that the jacketflap should read, “In this hilarious collection of poems...” Folks, there’s nothing hilarious to see here. Move along.

Dirt on My Shirt is a perfect example of a book that would have never, ever been published if not for the celebrity of the author. I find it particularly sad that it’s a book of poems — and I use that term loosely here — because parents don’t buy a lot of poetry books for their kids. So while the horrible Steve Martin ABC book will hopefully become a distant memory among the many other picture book choices, children may actually come away from Dirt on My Shirt with the idea that this is real poetry that, like, grown-ups write.

I couldn’t even find a favorite, or decide on the the worst of the batch to share. Grandparent’s day must be coming up soon, so I’ll go with these two selections.

Granddaddy

It sounds kind of sappy, but it makes me happy
To sit in my granddaddy’s lap
He tickles, I giggles and wiggles like crazy
And sometimes we just like to nap

Grandma

My grandma puts on lipstick
It’s bright red like a rose
Because she cannot see too well
It ends up on her nose!

By the way — no periods. That’s how all of the poems are. Apparently, they can end with an exclamation point or question mark, but not a period. Whatever. I give up.

The book is a freakin’ bestseller and the Amazon reviews are all good. A few people mention the poems as “simple” or “uninspired” but they don’t appear to see that as a problem. It breaks my heart that this piece of poetry crap will end up in the hands of readers instead of a dozen — a hundred other better choices. I guess Kelly’s right. It’s time for my own celebrity author blog. I’ll be Simon; anyone want to be Paula or Randy to balance my snark?

Poetry Friday Roundup is over at Becky’s Book Reviews. Head over to find some good poems.

Labels: BACA, Book Reviews, Pissy on Poetry, Poetry Friday

Friday, May 16, 2008

Poetry Friday: My Dog May Be a Genius

Jack Prelutsky is really milking this Children’s Poet Laureate thing for all it’s worth, don’t ya think? His new collection of poems, My Dog May Be a Genius has his new title and signature above the title. In fact the title looks like an afterthought. There’s also a big gold sticker from the Poetry Foundation on the book.

Unfortunately, I wasn’t crazy about the book. I’m not a big fan of nonsense poetry. I like the Shel Silverstein books as an exception, but I didn’t like his oldest (but now newest) book, Don’t Bump the Glump! for the same reason. It’s just wacky.

There’s an improv concept that everyone wants the sketch of the chicken in the bowling alley, but it’s actually harder to come up with something clever for the man in the office. The crazy jutxaposition of the elements is the joke, rather than the artist — improv or poet — adding insight and humor to the situation. So is the poem then funny or clever on its own merit, or is it more about thinking of the original oddity?

In this book, there aren’t enough of the more “normal” poems in the collection to keep it from going over the top. And when there is a nice, almost moving poem about having a place to go to inside yourself, it’s followed by “Burt the Burper,” which ruins the mood. But that’s probably the point. The only poem I really liked is the title poem. It’s more about an everyday thing. It also hits on an personal note, since I can’t understand anything that people spell.

My dog may be a genius,
and in fact, there’s little doubt.
He recognizes many words,
unless I spell them out.
If I so much as whisper “walk,”
he hurries off at once
to fetch his leash... it’s evident
my dog is not a dunce.

I can’t say “food” in front of him,
I spell f-o-o-d,
and he goes wild unless I spell
his t-r-e-a-t.
But recently this tactic
isn’t working out too well.
I think my d-o-g has learned
to s-p-e-l-l.

I know lots of people will like this book for its absurdity, and that’s okay. I just wish Prelutsky had taken the opportunity of his title and his talent to mix in a few more subtle poems and introduce children to a greater range of expression.

The Poetry Friday round-up is over at Two Writing Teachers.

Labels: Poetry Friday, Wacky Poetry

Friday, May 09, 2008

2:00 a.m.

That’s when I caught the escaped hamster. 2:00 a.m. I am the most devoted mother ever, and one of the most tired. The hormonal soup of anxiety and adrenaline have left me physically wrecked, but I’ll take the day to recover and hit our 48 Hour Film Project screening tonight with full energy — and a caged hamster at home.

My Poetry Friday contribution is an original piece about my experience.

As a mother I expected diapers and crying.
Boo-boos and bee stings
Hurt knees and hurt feelings.
I was prepared for sick days, sleepless nights,
tantrums, homework, and sibling squabbles.
But there are times
When it comes down to moments
Of pure absurdity.
A grown woman stalking a hamster.
Staring in the dim light for hours
The taste of being a hero
Resting in the sweet smell of strawberry
in a tin can covered, finally, thankfully,
By the hand of a mom.

The Poetry Friday round-up is done by Writer2B. And in case I don’t get another chance to say it, Happy Mother’s Day!

Labels: Original Poetry, Poetry Friday

Friday, May 02, 2008

Poetry Friday: Search Poetry

I haven’t played in my StatCounter keyword analysis for a while, but it’s always so much fun. I found an older poem that I put together with some favorite searches in the Diamond form. I was originally inspired by the form of a OULIPO, a poetry challenge at Miss Rumphius. I think the searches are so funny, and yet so telling at the same time. That’s why I love ’em. The first one is from a while ago, the second one I created today.

poetry
Mo definitely
adult readers theatre
100 top grossing breads
funny story on being teachable
preschool books about boyfriends, girlfriends
teenage group personality quizzes
seven animals in one picture
Kadir Nelson knock off
BACA members
poppies

Yarn bugs
Pigeon pajamas
Attack of Literacy
Condescending forgotten poem
Stop dressing your daughter like a slut
Weird and wacky poems for kids
Land of Little Horses
Poems in spanis
Baca logo

My favorite searches are “Mo definitely” and “Condescending forgotten poem.” I can’t even imagine what that second one means, but the Mo definitely is right on target. Check out the Poetry Friday round-up at Big A, little a.

Labels: Original Poetry, Poetry Friday

Friday, April 25, 2008

Poetry Friday: Shark Girl

Smaller Picture

And then... some days are gray days,
vast, unbearable
canyon days, when I can’t take
the frantic buzzing in my arm anymore.
“My life is going to be one long hurt,”
I tell Mel. Sick as it is, I say it:
“Sometimes I wish I died.”

“Time to think about the smaller picture,”
Mel says. “Like getting through one day.
Not your whole life, not forever,
one day.
Sometimes we can only look at one hour,
or one minute.”

Tears crawl into my eyes.
Emptiness makes my throat ache.

“On those bad days, Jane,
hold on. Get through one minute.
Then tell yourself,
I made it through that minute,
I can make it through another.”

So I do as he says,
and I get through
one more day.

— from Shark Girl, by Kelly Bingham

One normal summer day when Jane is fifteen, a shark attacks her in the California waters. She loses a lot of blood, goes into a coma, and almost dies. But she survives — without her arm. She stays in the hospital for a month, regaining her strength and learning to get along as an amputee. Her mother is always by her side, her family sends support, and she receives gifts and letters from people all over the country who’ve seen a video of her tragedy.

But this isn’t the story of a girl who bravely survives and overcomes, at least not at first. She’s angry and bitter. She hates all the flowers and letters, at least most of the letters. She constantly reflects on the day of the accident, wishing that things could have been different — if she hadn’t been in the water at just that moment. Through her ordeal she finds good in a little boy she meets at the hospital and in her supportive friends and family. She finds strength in herself as she heals and grows.

I loved this book because it felt so real and represented the many different ways that people around you can respond to a difficult situation. Some offer religion, some offer a shoulder to cry on. One friend gets very critical of little things while another takes her through a brutal exercise to prepare for Jane’s first trip out to order coffee.

The story is told through conversations, newspaper articles, letters, and poems. Kelly Bingham was on a live forum at readergirlz yesterday and answered some questions about the book. I wasn’t able to sign on, but was intrigued to learn that Shark Girl was written before the attack on the Hawaiian surfer. In fact, Kelly put the manuscript away for a year feeling that it was inappropriate to submit at the time. I still have some questions for Kelly — I was particularly intrigued by how she captured Jane’s feelings — so maybe she’ll stop by MotherReader for a visit too. In any case, don’t wait to pick up this book. It will astound you.

Labels: Book Reviews, Poetry Friday, Young Adult Books

Friday, March 28, 2008

Poetry Friday: Tap Dancing On The Roof

I’m more than ready for springtime. Like, now. Warm weather, gentle breezes, and long days recharge my batteries. It’s been a mild winter here, so I have no right to complain, oh but complain I will. Because I Need Spring.

I’ve been encouraged by the progress in my garden, in which all sorts of flowers have been popping up. Other than the pansies that made it through the winter, I didn’t plant any of these flowers. They just sort of show up each year. I have a Darwinian approach to my garden. Survival of the fittest.

It’s always the crocuses that surprise me. I’ll be minding my own business, cursing the stupid cold days, when they start making their appearance. Suddenly there’s hope that spring is around the corner. God Bless the crocuses. My love for these simple plants led to my Poetry Friday selection.

Crocuses

They pierce the thin skin of snow
with narrow swords of green
to clear the way for colors —
purple, yellow, lavender,

petals huddled close, guarding
the treasure: a lode of gold dust

This little gem is from the charming collection Tap Dancing on the Roof: Sijo (Poems), by Linda Sue Park. Sijo is a traditional Korean form of poetry written using a syllabic structure. Written in English, the sijo in this book have fourteen to sixteen syllables divided evenly into either three or six lines. The last line of the these poems contains some twist, “humor or irony, an unexpected image, a pun, or a play on words.” In the beginning of the book, Park offers an explanation for the poetry style, and in notes at the end offers ways to turn the poetry reader into the poet. Her poems are delightful, focusing on the everyday world of the child. Throughout the book the spare, simple illustrations of Istvan Banyai complement the work perfectly.

If I may be allowed to share one more (okay, Linda?), I’d like everyone to know about this tribute to poetry.

Wish

For someone to read a poem
again, and again, and then,

having lifted it from page
to brain — the easy part —

cradle it on the longer trek
from brain all the way to heart.

Can we make that the official poem of Poetry Friday? Maybe the poetic mission statement? I don’t know, but I think it says so much in so few words. Love it.

Poetry Friday roundup is over at Cuentesitos.

Labels: Book Reviews, Poetry Friday, Spring

Friday, March 21, 2008

Poetry Friday: Mother Goose

Today’s Poetry is from Mother Goose. That counts, right? In any case, it’s the first day of spring and the rhyme is definitely appropriate. Which is more than I can say for the weather today, a not-so-balmy 48 degrees here in Virginia.

Pit, Pat, Well-A-Day

Pit, pat, well-a-day,
Little robin flew away.
Where can little robin be?
Gone into the cherry tree.

Actually, this rhyme is specifically from Mother Goose and Friends, as selected and illustrated by Ruth Sanderson. Now, I love Ruth Sanderson. I bid on her snowflake during the Robert’s Snow auction. I didn’t get it, but oh, I wanted it so much. Her illustrations are so detailed and lovely, and Mother Goose rhymes are the perfect fit for her artwork. My inner girly-girl was tickled pink with the use of fairies throughout this title — even when fairies weren’t required — like “Ring Around the Rosies” with dainty, beautiful fairy girls circling a small rose bush. Ahhh. These are some of the prettiest illustrations I have ever seen.

But. I was very disappointed that she didn’t choose to include more children of color in this book. There are a few — little Miss Muffet and the boy in “The Elf-Man” — but there could have been and should have been more. I know that there’s that old-fashioned, old England feel to the book that you don’t want to spoil, but still some shades of brown seemed sorely needed.

Today’s Poetry Friday round-up is over at Wild Rose Reader.

Labels: Book Reviews, Poetry Friday

Friday, March 14, 2008

Poetry Friday: Oh, Bright Light City

With all respects to the King, here’s my slightly altered, more poetic version of a classic song.

Oh, bright light city
Set my soul on fire.
Piles of money to burn
Raise the stakes higher.
Viva Las Vegas
With your neon flashing,
And your one-armed bandits
Crashing
All those hopes
down the drain.
Viva Las Vegas
Turning the day into nighttime,
Turn the night into daytime.
If you see it once,
you’ll never come home again.

Yes, I’m off to Vegas today. Nope, not bringing the kids. Nope, not the husband either. I’m going with my friends from college and we’re celebrating twenty years of friendship with one fabulous trip. There’s some gambling on the itinerary, which also includes finding an Elvis impersonator and seeing the largest gold nugget in existence. Maybe it’s really more of a scavenger hunt than an itinerary. In any case, wish me luck. With the gambling, not the gold nugget search.

Poetry Friday round-up is hosted by Jama Rattigan.

Labels: Las Vegas, Poetry Friday, Vacation

Friday, March 07, 2008

Poetry Friday: How To (and How Not To) Write Poetry

I was searching over at the Poetry Foundation website for a poem about being overwhelmed, because I’m coming out of another long stress cycle. Nothing is gravely wrong in my household, please understand, but the little things add up. Running a major Girl Scout event. Calling Mom daily about her health issues. Preparing the girls for a talent show. Deciding on the future of my career path. Debating my purpose here on earth. You know, the little stuff.

In any case, the major GS event is done, and we did a fantastic job. My mom’s struggle with a stubborn infection seems to be at an end. My girls did a wonderful job in the talent show. I’ve made a decision to stay in my job, but to move to fewer hours and a closer branch when/if the opportunity presents itself, allowing me more time to write. Still working on the purpose-here-on-earth thing, but I’ll let you know.

Back on track — this article came up when I searched the word stressed. Since it isn’t about emotional stress, I suppose there is something about stressed syllables somewhere in the piece. Close enough. It’s a great article for Poetry Friday. Enjoy.

How To (and How Not To) Write Poetry
Advice for blocked writers and aspiring poets from a Nobel Prize winner’s newspaper column.

by Wislawa Szymborska

The following are selections from columns originally published in the Polish newspaper Literary Life. In these columns, famed poet Wislawa Szymborska answered letters from ordinary people who wanted to write poetry. Translated by Clare Cavanagh, they appeared in slightly different form in our Journals section earlier this year.

To Heliodor from Przemysl: “You write, ‘I know my poems have many faults, but so what, I’m not going to stop and fix them.’ And why is that, oh Heliodor? Perhaps because you hold poetry so sacred? Or maybe you consider it insignificant? Both ways of treating poetry are mistaken, and what’s worse, they free the novice poet from the necessity of working on his verses. It’s pleasant and rewarding to tell our acquaintances that the bardic spirit seized us on Friday at 2:45 p.m. and began whispering mysterious secrets in our ear with such ardor that we scarcely had time to take them down. But at home, behind closed doors, they assiduously corrected, crossed out, and revised those otherworldly utterances. Spirits are fine and dandy, but even poetry has its prosaic side.”

Read the rest of the article at the Poetry Foundation. Poetry Friday round-up is over at The Simple and the Ordinary.

Labels: Poetry Friday

Friday, February 29, 2008

Poetry Friday: Doonesbury

I’m all discombobulated today. I blame the date. Leap Day. You just know adding an extra day to February is going to muck something up. All week, though, I’ve been looking forward to putting something different out for Poetry Friday. It’s a “Doonesbury” cartoon.

Then you can go over to the Slate website and see how the week of strips progresses. (“‘The Prose of Hillary Clinton.’ I don’t want to talk about it.” Ha. Ha.)

The Poetry Friday round-up is over at Kelly Fineman’s place today.

An article, “Finding Political Strength in the Power of Words: Oratory Has Helped Drive Obama’s Career — and Critics’ Questions” is over at The Washington Post. Does anyone else find it strange that Obama is being attacked for being too good as a speaker? I find it interesting as an Obama fan, certainly, but I also find it intriguing as a lover of words. How is it unfair in campaigning that he can string words together in a powerful way? The article doesn’t answer that question exactly, but it does break down his speeches, also mentioning that a big section in the middle of each speech is about policy plans, contrary to public perception.

Leap Day also brings us February’s Carnival of Children’s Literature, over at Anastasia Suen’s place.

Edited to add: Leap Day ends February and thus my guest blogging spot over at ForeWord. I've ended with one simple way to raise readers in your family. Go take a look at I Am a Mother Reader for my favorite kid story ever.

Labels: Cartoons, Poetry Friday

Friday, February 22, 2008

Poetry Friday: Carver: A Life in Poems

I am surrounded by junk. I can’t clear it out. A lack of time and energy does play a huge part in the steady accumulation of stuff. But the process of cleaning up takes so long and takes so much energy because it’s really hard for me to get rid of things. I see so much potential in everything.

And I am right on the potential a decent percentage of the time, which is enough to validate my reluctance to toss things out. An Ikea box becomes a big fish for a play prop. The box of leftover crayons will be given out at a Girl Scout activity night. When my workplace was done with handcrafted centerpieces for a party, I took five of them. They were then centerpieces for a Girl Scout dance and a drama club party. Much later they were torn apart for their components and became the decoration on a third grader’s Chinese dragon.

I know that I’m justifying, and not even that well. But I take some comfort from today’s poem from Carver: A Life in Poems, by Marilyn Nelson.

Chemistry 101

A canvas apron over his street clothes,
Carver leads his chemistry class into
the college dump. The students follow, a claque
of ducklings hatched by hens. Where he
sees a retort, a Bunsen burner,
a mortar, zinc sulfate, they see
a broken bowl, a broken lantern,
a rusty old flatiron, a fruit jar top.
Their tangle of twine, his lace.
He turns, a six-inch length of copper tubing
in one hand. “Now, what can we do with this?”
Two by two, little lights go on.
One by hesitant one, dark hands are raised.
The waters of imagining, their element.

Winner of both Newbery Honor and Coretta Scott King Honor Awards in 2002, Carver: A Life in Poems explains the life of an extraordinary man in an equally extraordinary way. The poems often include a footnote with the exact biographical information — the names, dates, and places — leaving the poems free to be more descriptive and lyrical. The poems follow Carver’s life span from the time he was recovered from a kidnapper as a baby to the last days of his life watching the Tuskegee Airmen take to the sky. Some poems are written from the point of view of different people along his path, including teachers, students, and friends. The result is a deeper view of the the man and of the times in which he lived. It’s an excellent book, and is especially perfect for Black History Month — showing one man’s achievements, but not in the arena of slavery or civil rights.

Today, school was cancelled on account of ice, so maybe I can tackle some of my own junk. But if I am unsuccessful, I can claim the spirit of Carver, “the waters of imagining” clearly being me in my element. Poetry Friday round-up is over at Big A, little a, and it looks like lots of weekend reading for all.

Labels: Book Reviews, Clutter, Poetry Friday

Friday, February 15, 2008

Poetry Friday: Speak To Me (Again)

Speak To Me (And I Will LIsten Between The Lines)

I posted this poem a year ago, but it’s time to mention it again. I don’t know that I can verify that it captures the feel of an urban school, but I do know that it really captures the feeling of third graders. Feeling pride in an eighth birthday. Worrying about losing a best friend to another girl in the class. Daydreaming. Saving a seat at lunch. Each poem is told from the point of the view of one of the kids in the class, most of whom are African American. Oh, and the illustrations are also perfect.

So here’s a poem from Karen English’s book, Speak To Me (And I Will Listen Between The Lines).

The Reading Boy [Malcolm]

Omar came on Monday
We liked him quick because he can read
As good as the teacher

Tyrell looked at him long and hard
As the river of words flowed out of his mouth
On one breath
The reading boy

Lamont asked to change his seat
To the one by the reading boy
Who sang the words off the page

Teacher asked him a question
And everyone listened
He is the one who reads.

Last year I noted how this particular poem felt even more relevant after seeing an article in the Washington Post Magazine about a third-grade teacher who started at a D.C. school, and realized that none of her students could read yet. In my suburban community, we obsess (it seems) about our kids reading the “right books.” It seems even more ridiculous when you look across the river at a community that needs to read, period.

Poetry Friday round-up is over at HipWriterMama.

Labels: Black History Month, Poetry Friday

Friday, February 08, 2008

Poetry Friday: Langston’s Train Ride and ForeWord

I have an article over at ForeWord today, part two of my suggested Black History Month Picture Books. There’s some great stuff on the list, so be sure to take a look. Please.

One of the books I included and totally love is Langston’s Train Ride, by Robert Burleigh, illustrated by Leonard Jenkins. The fantastic illustrations make this book a complete pleasure to peruse, no doubt about that. But the reader will also enjoy being taken along on a journey with Langston Hughes as a young man. As he rides on a train across the country, he is moved by the crossing over the Mississippi River. Words and phrases rush into his head, especially the phrase, “I’ve known rivers,” which he jots down on an envelope.

My thoughts roam. Suddenly, I feel the history of my people flowing right up to this moment — to ME. Yes, I feel I’ve lived other lives on those muddy riverbanks. Somehow, somewhere, I’ve heard the dusky waters of all those rivers lapping and singing. It’s true, it’s true. I’ve known rivers.

I keep the envelope flat on my lap. I’m madly scribbling words down now, rapidly one after another. (Poems are like rainbows, don’t you think? They escape if you’re not quick!) I turn my head to get one last look at the sun-tinged Mississippi. Going, going, gone. I scrawl the last line:

My soul has grown deep like the rivers.

And the poem is done.

Read and listen to the poem “The Negro Speaks of Rivers” at Poets.org. The Poetry Friday round-up is hosted by AmoXcalli. And don’t forget to check out my two-part piece on picture books for Black History Month over at ForeWord and comment with other picture book suggestions for the month.

Labels: ForeWord, Nonfiction, Poetry Friday

Friday, February 01, 2008

Poetry Friday: MLK Jr. Kinda Poetry

At the library yesterday, I put together a display for Black History Month. Imagine, if you will, two large blocks, one smaller and on top of the other. Around the sides of the small block, I taped black paper and a print-out of kente cloth that I found online. I had to print ten copies of it and cut it out and tape it together and then tape it on the black paper, but it looked pretty good when it was done.

On the larger block, I taped up the printed words I HAVE A DREAM TODAY on one side. On the other three sides, I taped up quotes from Martin Luther King, Jr.’s famous speech. When I saw the words printed out and glued onto black paper to set them off, I was moved all over again by the phrases. And though they are not technically poetry, I’d like to use them for this Poetry Friday, the first one of Black History Month. Indulge me.

I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up
and live out the true meaning of its creed:
“We hold these truths to be self-evident:
that all men are created equal.”

I have a dream that one day on the red hills of Georgia
The sons of former slaves and the sons of former slave owners
will be able to sit down together
at the table of brotherhood.

I have a dream that my four little children
will one day live in a nation
where they will not be judged by the color of their skin
but by the content of their character.

I have a dream today.

I should mention that I skipped one line about the state of Mississippi — because remember, I only had three sides to work with on the display pyramid. The whole speech, including video, is available at American Rhetoric. The Poetry Friday round-up is with Karen Edmisten.

This month, I’ll be checking in at Twenty-Eight Days Later, a Celebration of Children’s Literature over at The Brown Bookshelf. I urge you to do the same. If you’re looking for poetry books, let me suggest a visit to Wild Rose Reader. Actually two visits. I’ll be writing about my favorite picture books for Black History Month over at Foreword on Monday and Friday next week. Yes, I’m a guest blogger and I couldn’t be prouder.

Labels: Black History Month, Poetry Friday

The heart of a Mother. The soul of a Reader.

Friday, August 22, 2008

Poetry Friday: Dr. Horrible

Friday, August 15, 2008

Poetry Friday: World’s Greatest

Friday, July 11, 2008

Poetry Friday: Yes We Can

Friday, June 27, 2008

Poetry Friday: Summer Days

Friday, June 13, 2008

Poetry Friday: Our Deepest Fear

Friday, May 30, 2008

Poetry Friday: Red Butterfly

Friday, May 23, 2008

Poetry Friday: Dirt on My Shirt

Friday, May 16, 2008

Poetry Friday: My Dog May Be a Genius

Friday, May 09, 2008

2:00 a.m.

Friday, May 02, 2008

Poetry Friday: Search Poetry

Friday, April 25, 2008

Poetry Friday: Shark Girl

Friday, March 28, 2008

Poetry Friday: Tap Dancing On The Roof

Friday, March 21, 2008

Poetry Friday: Mother Goose

Friday, March 14, 2008

Poetry Friday: Oh, Bright Light City

Friday, March 07, 2008

Poetry Friday: How To (and How Not To) Write Poetry

Friday, February 29, 2008

Poetry Friday: Doonesbury

Friday, February 22, 2008

Poetry Friday: Carver: A Life in Poems

Friday, February 15, 2008

Poetry Friday: Speak To Me (Again)

Friday, February 08, 2008

Poetry Friday: Langston’s Train Ride and ForeWord

Friday, February 01, 2008

Poetry Friday: MLK Jr. Kinda Poetry

The heart of a Mother.
The soul of a Reader.