Write Time

Poetry Friday: Love Poems

2012-02-10T04:40:00.000-08:00

Valentine's Day is just around the corner so I thought Id share a few of my favorite collections of love poems. Readers of all ages are sure to fall in love with these books!

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

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.

It's getting late and this teacher needs her sleep so here is a quick list of some other wonderful titles you'll want to check out.

Young Adults

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

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.

Note- I found this collection about ten years ago while browsing the poetry section in my local Borders. I think it's very unfortunate that so many book stores have closed. I used to have a lot of fun discovering treasures such as this one.

If you have other favorite collections of love poetry for children and young adults, please share the titles with me so I can add them to my bookshelf.
Okay, it's now way past my bedtime. I apologize for any typos.

Happy Valentine's Day!

The Right Book

2012-01-13T01:30:00.000-08:00

Last September, I volunteered to mentor an eighth grade girl, K., who was identified as “at risk.” During our first meeting, she told me she liked sports, hanging out with her friends, and playing video games. She didn’t like anything about school except lunch and gym. I asked K. what kind of books she liked to read. Her answer was very blunt, “None. Reading is boring.” I wasn’t surprised. As a middle school reading intervention teacher, I'd heard that statement many times. I’ve learned that getting the right book in the hands of the right child can turn a non-reader into a reader.

The next week, we met for lunch. I brought pizza and Planet Middle School. I told K. that I had just finished reading Planet Middle School by Nikki Grimes and that the main character, Joylin, had a lot in common with her. I explained that I read a lot of novels-in-verse because they are usually short and deal with real-life problems. It took a little convincing, but she agreed to read a few pages with me.

We read the first poem.

Heartsick

The emergency-room doors

crack open

and I feel my heart split.

The hospital smell

leaves me dizzy,

or maybe it’s just my fear.

After reading the first six lines, K. wrinkled her nose and said, “I remember when my grandmother was in the hospital, and it smelled really weird in there. It made my stomach hurt, and I wanted to throw up.” I told her I knew exactly what she meant, and how I thought it was cool that the three of us (K., Joylin, and I) had all experienced that smell and fear for the health of someone we care about. Seeing that K. was already making connections to the story was a good sign.

We took turns reading the first several poems. We used a yellow post-it to mark the page where we stopped. When lunch was over, K. asked if she could take Planet Middle School home to finish it. I agreed, but I wasn’t sure she’d read it without me there for support.

K. came to our next meeting carrying Planet Middle School, but the post-it was gone. I asked her if she had read any more of it. She smiled, “I read it all. It was good.” We talked about our favorite poems and explored author Nikki Grimes' website. (I think it's important for readers to get to know a little about the author.)

Then we went to the media center and chose our next book. We’ve read four more novels-in-verse. K. loves them and so do I. It’s amazing what finding the right book can do. K.’s reading level has gone up 75 pts. since Sept. She and I have set a goal of reading ten books by the end of the school year. I’m confident that we’ll find the right books to make that happen!

Planet Middle School
Nikki Grimes
Bloomsbury, 2011

Empty Spaces

2012-01-06T06:30:00.000-08:00

A new year brings a sense of hope, a fresh start, and time to reflect on ourlives. Lately, I've been reflecting on why I write. Last year, I took a much needed hiatus fromsharing my writing. After decades of searching to find myplace in the world of writing without success, I needed a new approach. I wrote a fewblog posts, some poems and stories for my students, and newsletter articles forschool, but I didn't submit anything to publishers.

I stopped submitting, but I didn't stop writing. I wrote just about every day, but it was for my eyesonly. I wrote poems, essays, stories, and letters. I never once had writer’s block,and I didn’t worry if my words were good enough. My writing had purpose andmeaning. I wrote about my childhood and how it made me who I am today. I wroteabout being a frightened and lonely teenager. I wrote about falling in love, therewards of raising my sons, caring for an aging parent, and my own fears ofgrowing old. The more I wrote, the more I understood that writing is not just myhobby, it’s my way of life. I write when I’m happy. I write when I afraid,when I’m lonely, angry, confused… I write to remember, to release, to recover.Writing fills the empty spaces in a way nothing else can. The way I think about myself as a writer has changed. I'll write more about that in a future post. But, most importantly, I have learnedthat for me, the only story I can write is my own, and maybe my story will fill the empty spaces for someone who reads it.

"Every Craftsman" by Rumi speaks to the ways people try to fill the emptyspaces. Here are the first seventeen lines. You can click on the link to read the rest of the poem.

Every Craftsman

I've said before that every craftsman
searches for what's not there
to practice his craft.

A builder looks for the rotten hole
where the roof caved in. A water-carrier
picks the empty pot. A carpenter
stops at the house with no door.

Workers rush toward some hint
of emptiness, which they then
start to fill. Their hope, though,
is for emptiness, so don't think
you must avoid it. It contains
what you need!
Dear soul, if you were not friends
with the vast nothing inside,
why would you always be casting you net
into it, and waiting so patiently?

My search for the poem led me to Writing and Healing, a wonderful blog that inspired this post. It's worth checking out!
For more poetry check out Teaching Authors.

Happy New Year!

2012-01-01T19:09:00.000-08:00

One of my goals for 2012 is to take more photos of my mother. I'm also keeping a journal of our time together to pass along to my granddaughter so she'll be able to know her great-grandma.

Not Just Another "Auld Lang Syne"

2011-12-29T17:59:00.000-08:00

Every New Year’s Eve, I sit down with my journal and reflecton the past year- successes and failures, joys and sorrows. At midnight, I watch the ball drop in TimesSquare as the band plays, “Auld Lang Syne” and cry. That song always makes me cry. Itreminds me of friends and family I’ve lost and regrets from years past.

By New Year’s morning, I’m ready for a fresh start. I sit down with a cup of tea and scribble thesame old resolutions into a brand-new journal: lose 30 lbs., figure out what Ishould write, and work on gaining self-confidence. I make a plan of action and feel sure I cando it this time. But, my first resolution is usually abandoned by the end ofthe day, the second within a week, and the third one never gets its start.

As each month ends infailure, I reword my resolutions breaking them down into smaller ones so they’llbe easier to achieve. I tell myself a litany of excuses: I don’t have time to exercise,I need to learn more before I can start a writing project, I don’t have anywillpower, and so on. You’ve heard the saying, “Insanity is doing the samething over and over and expecting different results.” Well, that’s pretty much,what I was doing, and it took thirty long years to realize it.

2011 was a year of change. I finally realized I had todo things differently. My health andhappiness were at stake. It wasn’t easy, but I tackled one goal at a time. Iset new priorities. There were setbacks and times I felt like giving up, but Ididn’t. I just kept going until Iachieved what I set out to do. I had been looking for answers outside myself. When I changed my thinking, things began tofall into place.

This year, when I sit down with my journal, I’ll write abouthow good it feels: to lose over forty pounds, to work on writing projects Ilove, and to feel a little more confident. As the ball drops in Times Square, and theband plays “Auld Lang Syne,” I’ll still cry for loved ones love we lost, butI won’t cry tears of regret. I dohave one small problem, now I need to come up with some new resolutions.

You can listen to a lovely Scottish version of "Auld Lang Syne: here.

If you'd like to read more about the poem, go here.

(I've been away from blogging for several months, and Blogger has made a lot of changes. I tried to get the video on here but couldn't get it to work. I apologize for having to send you to the link.)

Poetry Friday: A GIRL NAMED MISTER

2011-08-10T09:13:00.000-07:00

I'm a big fan of novels-in-verse. I’ve read dozens and have an entire bookshelf full of them to prove it! Novels-in-verse are gaining popularity with teens for the same reasons I love them: they are fast reads, character-driven, offer a strong voice, often deal with tough subject matter, and pack a lot of emotion a small space.

Now that I have a Kindle, I can read while I'm on the treadmill. It's been great because I can do something I love while I'm doing something I'm not so crazy about. This summer I spent a lot of time on the treadmill, lost twenty-two pounds, and read a bunch of novels-in-verse! I enjoyed all of them, but there was one so special that as soon as I came to the last page, I just had to read it again.

That novel is A GIRL NAMED MISTER by award-winning poet and author Nikki Grimes. If you haven't read it yet, you're missing a great read. There is so much to love about this story. If you're familiar with Nikki's work, you already her poems and stories are filled with surprises and powerful emotions. When I’m reading her writing, I always feel like narrator is sitting next to me telling his/her story.

Mary Rudine is the main character. Her voice and personality emerge from the beginning in a poem where she explains how she came to be known as "Mister."

Blame it on my mother.
She's the one who named me
Mary Rudine.
The name is some throwback
her old-fashioned thinking
came up with.
Nobody but Mom
has called me Mary Rudine
since forever.
First it was Mary,
then it was M.R.
Mister is all anybody
calls me now.

Mister's life revolves around the church. She sings in the choir, attends video night, and wears a purity ring. But lately she's been wondering if something is missing. Like most teens, she longs to explore where she fits in the world.

Restless

I turned the music
of the world
way up,
my feet itching to dance
to a new rhythm,
something other than
gospel.

Then she meets Trey who sweeps her off her feet, and she begins to question her beliefs. He pressures her until she finally gives in. She becomes pregnant and her life is changed forever.

This could have been just another story about teenage pregnancy, but then that wouldn’t have been a Nikki Grimes’ story. Instead, she brilliantly weaves a story within a story as Mister searches for answers by reading a book of poems from the perspective of the Virgin Mary.

Suddenly, the reader is transported back thousands of years where Mary tells her own story. I had never thought about the fear, shame, and confusion young Mary must have experienced being unwed and expecting a child. But that’s what great literature does, it gets you thinking in brand new ways.

Something I especially love is how through the parallel stories of Mister and Mary, the reader comes to realize the human experience hasn’t changed through time. Our stories are universal. We love, we fear, we question just as those who came before us did. I believe every reader will connect to the emotions in this novel.

I won't give away the ending, but I'm hoping Nikki might write a sequel to this story someday. I want to know what happens to Mister and the baby.

I try to "read like a writer." So, I always look at techniques the author uses to bring a story to life and try to apply them to my own writing. I had some questions and Nikki was very kind to answer them for me.

1. Mary Rudine’s personality pops off the page from the very first poem where she explains how she came to be called Mister. How do you create a distinctive voice for each of your characters?

The voices come to me. It's the details I add: the family history, the back-story, the environment, etc. But the voice, that's a gift. I think it comes from a life-time of honing my writer's ear. I'm always listening to the way people speak, to their dialect, the nuances of their speech patterns, etc. I have a reservoir of voices in my mind, just waiting to be take up residence in whatever character I choose.

2. I love the parallel stories of Mister and the Virgin Mary. Why did you choose to write a story within a story? What were the challenges in doing this? Did you write each story separately, or did you alternate the way it appears in the novel?

I love working in multiple voices. I begin working on each separately, then weave the two together. As in Dark Sons, I wanted to explore the ways in which characters separated by thousands of miles, and thousands of years, are, in fact, alike. The universality of characters and story always interests me. The challenge, here, was to keep the dialogue authentic to the period for each character.

3.What are the challenges of writing a novel in verse? Do you write the entire story first, or do the revisions for each poem before moving on to the next one?

The main challenge in writing a story in verse is to strike a balance between storytelling and poetry. It would be easy for the mechanics of the story to overwhelm the text so that the poetry is lost. I've read any number of books that propose to be novels-in-verse, but which are, in fact, books of broken prose. One easy way to mark the difference is the absence, or presence, of metaphors. If you go 20, 30, 40 pages without encountering a metaphor, the book is not a novel in verse!

In the first draft, I concentrate on telling the story. With revisions, I begin to hone the poetry, pay more attention to scanning, lyricism, imagery. As I tweak the story, overall, I'm constantly looking to tweak the poetry, as well.

An advanced copy of Nikki's latest novel-in-verse, PLANET MIDDLE SCHOOL arrived in my mailbox today. I can't wait to start reading it! PLANET MIDDLE SCHOOL is available on Amazon for pre-order.The release date is Sept. 13.

Nikki Grimes is a New York Times bestselling author and the recipient of the 2006 NCTE Award for Excellence in Poetry for Children. Her distinguished works include ALA Notable book What is Goodbye?, Coretta Scott King Award winner Bronx Masquerade, the novels Jazmin's Notebook, Dark Sons,and The Road to Paris (Coretta Scott King Author Honor Books).Creator of the popular Meet Danitra Brown. You can read more about Nikki and her work on her website.

Teachers: If you haven’t discovered the poetry of Nikki Grimes, I hope you’ll take this opportunity to read some of her work. Her poems are very accessible and speak to the heart of a child. I highly recommend SOMETHING ON MY MIND, Dial Books, 1978. This is a collection of poems I’ve used for many years as writing prompts with both elementary and middle school students. My students relate to the emotions and situations in the poems and in response have written their own heartfelt poems and personal narratives. I’ve never had to “make” a child write in response to these poems because they want to tell their stories. Although it’s currently out of print, Amazon has some new and used copies. You could also check your local library. It’s worth the effort. If you’ve already used SOMETHING ON MY MIND with students, I’d love to hear about your experiences.

Poetry Friday: The Silence of War

2011-08-01T16:51:00.000-07:00

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

2011-08-01T15:52:00.000-07:00

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

2011-08-01T15:36:00.000-07:00

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

2011-08-01T14:04:00.000-07:00

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

2011-08-01T11:46:00.000-07:00

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

2011-08-01T07:00:00.000-07:00

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

2011-07-31T18:30:00.000-07:00

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: It's Never Too Late To Live Your Dream

2011-07-21T18:05:00.000-07:00

Toyo Shibata didn't start writing until she was 92. At the age of 99, her first collection of poetry became a bestseller selling over 1.5 million copies! The title of her book is translated as either Don't Be Frustrated or Don't Lose Heart depending on the source. I'm hoping there will be an English translation of the book in the near future.

Toyo Shibata's poems are about her hopes and dreams, about falling in love, and the future.

"I think of various things: memories of my past and my family, my current life. I immerse myself in those memories and write from them." -Toyo Shibata (Reuters, 1/25/11)

I found her story to be very inspiring and proof that it's never too late for us to achieve our dreams!

You can read more about Toyo Shibata here and here.

A video of her reading her poems here.

Read translations of some of her poems here.

Tugg and Teeny: Book Two

2011-06-28T15:36:00.000-07:00

Not long ago, I shared with you a new series for early readers written by Poet Laureate, J Patrick Lewis. I'm happy to announce that Tugg and Teeny Book Two: Jungle Surprises is now available. Once again these two loveable characters take us on a reading adventure full of surprises. Like Book One, Jungle Surprises is a collection of three stories. I particularly like the first story "A Great Gusting Mystery" because it will inspire young writers to write their own mystery stories. Students will love the surprise ending in "The Zig-Zag Race," and delight in going "Wind-Fishing" with Tugg and Teeny's friend Violet. Older students could go on a scavenger hunt to search for examples of alliteration, repetition, personification, and onomatopeia. There are other teaching ideas and activities on the publisher's website here and here. I can't wait to see what Tugg and Teeny will be up to in Book Three!

Poetry Friday: Reading Poetry in the Middle Grades

2011-04-14T18:00:00.000-07:00

"As teachers today, everything we teach has to be turbocharged with skills and the promise of advancing our students academically. I know that. And here's the cool thing: poetry can get you there. " This quote comes from the introduction of Paul Janeczko's new book, Reading Poetry in the Middle Grades, and he's right on the money with it. Teachers today have to be able to justify everything we teach.  The content of our lessons must address the ELA core standards. There's just no room in our jam-packed curriculum for anything else. I'm all for having common core standards, but many teachers already shy away from teaching poetry because they don't feel comfortbable with it. Asking teachers to search for poems, match them to the core standards, create a lesson plan that  includes a writing activity, companion poems, a graphic organizer, and online resources is enough to turn off even the most devoted poetry lover. Thanks to Reading Poetry in the Middle Grades, we don't have to. Paul has done that for us.

The first poem in the book is Ted Kooser's "Abandoned Farmhouse." Okay, Paul had me hooked right there. I mean it's Ted Kooser! I want my students to know and love Ted Kooser as much as I do. Paul makes it easy, guiding us every step of the way from the initial reading of the poem to a sampling of questions to get a discussion going.   We' re not analyzing the poem or plucking it's feathers until it's bare. No! We're talking about how it made us feel and noticing the word choices the poet used to create a mood. Paul teaches us how to engage our students and make personal connections. He also offers a broad selection of writing activities from a journal entry to imitating the poet by rewrititng several lines of the poem to help readers internalize and make the poem their own.

When I used "Abandoned Farmhouse" with my students, I showed them an online video of Ted Kooser reading the poem. There is nothing more motivating then bringing the poet right into the classroom! Students debated reasons the man in the poem left and what might have happened to him. They wrote about their own possessions and what those possessions say about them. Students started making connections (without my prompting) to other stories, poems, and articles we've read this year. One student said that maybe the man lived in the Dust Bowl and that was the reason he couldn't make it as a farmer (We just finished reading Out of the Dust).   All of this from reading one poem!

I've been using Paul's anthologies and teacher resource books for many years because students love the poems and the pre-planned activities save me time. I keep Reading Poetry in the Middle Grades on my desk beside Opening a Door: Reading Poetry in the Middle School Classroom (also by Paul Janeczko). These excellent resources are not just valuable for teachers; they are also fantastic for writers.   You can read more about Paul Janeczko and his books here.

Happy National Poetry Month!

2011-04-01T00:01:00.000-07:00

April means flowering trees, egg hunts, spring break, and a month-long celebration of poetry! I'm so excited! I can't wait to see what everyone will be posting this month.. My contribution will be to share some new and some not-so-new verse novels, teacher resource books, and favorite poems. I hope you'll drop by and join in the conversation.

Today, I'm sharing a poem I read on Your Daily Poem. I think most young girls love horses. I sure did. I used to dream of owning a horse farm. My life took a different direction, but this poem reminds just how amazing it would've have been.

Foal
by Linda Lee (Konichek)

The wonder of it all…
almost a year of waiting
a week of sleepless nights

Finally this
the mare presents
one tiny perfect hoof

encased in an iridescent bubble
as magical as those we blew
through childhood’s wands

We wait breathless
for one more miniature hoof
Next the milky sphere reveals

a baby nose,
nostrils already flaring
trying to breathe.

Read the rest of the poem here.

Poetry Friday: Tugg and Teeny

2011-03-23T14:48:00.000-07:00

As a teacher, I'm always looking for books that will excite and motivate young readers. I'm especailly looking for books that will interest boys. I'm happy to share a fantastic new book with you that readers of all ages are going to love. Tugg and Teeny, Sleeping Bear Press, is a new beginning reader written by one of our favorite poets, J. Patrick Lewis. Tugg, a gorilla, and Teeny, a monkey, are two lovable characters who, along with their friends, live in the jungle and help each other through life's challenges.

In this first of the three book series, Teeny strives to achieve his dreams. He tackles a different goal (becoming a musician, an artist, a poet) in each of three chapters. No matter what he decides to try, his best friend, Tugg, is always by his side to lend a hand or offer advice.

I especially love the way Teeny takes risks and tries new things. I think this sends an important message to kids that it's okay to step out of their comfort zone, and try something new. Even though Teeny doesn't always succeed at first, with the encouragement of his friend Tugg, he continues to try. Tugg is the kind of friend we all hope for: dependable, loyal, and supportive.

Reader of all ages will enjoy the three separate stories in this early chapter book. The brightly-colored illustrations by Chistopher Denise help bring life to these adorable characters. (He did a fabulous job of showing their personalities.) Although the book is written with beginning readers (grades 2-3) in mind, I think the stories will work as excellent models to teach writing skills (dialogue, point-of-view, plot, etc.) to my middle school students.

As I mentioned above, Tugg and Teeny is part of a three-book series. I love that because once kids are introduced to these characters, they'll be ravenous readers begging for each book that follows. The next book, Jungle Surpries, comes out May 2011. I can't wait! Check out the Tugg and Teeny website for more about upcoming titles in the series and activity pages. Tugg and Teeny is sure to put a smile on your face. If you've read it, I've love to hear ways you're using it with your students and/or your own children. I have a feeling this series is going to be very popular!

Poetry Friday

2010-11-11T17:51:00.000-08:00

I subscribe to American Life in Poetry, and it's helped me discover some wonderful poets. This week's poem was "Veil" by Todd Davis. It was the first time I'd read anything by Mr. Davis. I enjoyed "Veil" and wanted learn more about the poet. His website includes several sample poems including the title poem for his collection Some Heaven. I was very touched by the emotion and spirituality of his poems.

Veil

In this low place between mountains
fog settles with the dark of evening.
Every year it takes some of those
we love—a car full of teenagers
on the way home from a dance, or
a father on his way to the paper mill,
nightshift the only opening.

-Todd Davis, all rights reserved
You can read the rest of the poem here.

Some Heaven

The rabbit’s head is caught
between the slats of the fence,
and in its struggle it has turned
so the hind legs nearly touch
the nose—neck broken, lungs failing.
My boys ask me to do something
but see no mercy in my plan.

-Todd Davis, all rights reserved

You can read the rest of the poem here. This link will take you to Todd Davis' homepage.

POETRY FRIDAY

2010-10-07T18:27:00.000-07:00

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.

Best Books: First Dog's White House Christmas

2010-09-30T17:45:00.000-07:00

First Dog is back, and he is ready to celebrate Christmas. I hadn’t planned on blogging today, but when this adorable picture book arrived on my doorstep, I had to tell you about it. This is the second First Dog book written by father-daughter team J Patrick Lewis and Beth Zappitello. It is not a collection of poems, but since one of our most beloved poets wrote it, I thought it deserved a spot on Poetry Friday.

It all starts when First Dog invites his friends from around the world to celebrate Christmas at the White House. He asks each of them to share a Christmas tradition from their country. Through the warmth and humor of First Dog, readers learn some pretty cool facts about this special holiday. For instance, did you know that in Germany, they hang a glass pickle on the tree and the first child to find it gets an extra present? I can’t wait to hear my students’ reactions when I read them this book in December. It will fit perfectly with the essay they write about their own family traditions.

Another thing I love about this book is that readers learn about a breed of dog from each country. The descriptions of the dogs along with Tim Bowers’ gorgeous illustrations reveal each canine's personality and had me laughing out loud. Just picture this lovable character, “The visitor from Italy, the Neapolitan Mastiff, had a face that looked like a map of the Alps— without the snow.” He really is very cute.

This book was so much fun to read, I hope more First Dog books will follow. Thanks Pat and Beth for a book my grand-daughter is sure to love for years to come.

POETRY FRIDAY: North Star

2010-07-29T20:32:00.000-07:00

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

2010-07-22T19:21:00.000-07:00

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

2010-07-15T16:40:00.000-07:00

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...

2010-07-08T15:50:00.000-07:00

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

2010-07-01T17:30:00.000-07:00

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

2010-06-24T17:12:00.000-07:00

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!

POETRY FRIDAY: Best Books

2010-06-17T15:21:00.000-07:00

The school where I teach is known for its diverse population of students. I feel so fortunate to hear their stories, learn about their cultures, and to see their amazing faces. As my students work together, they quickly learn that they are much more alike than different.

I'm always on the lookout for literature that inspires a sense of community among my students. I found a collection of poetry I can't wait to share with them next August.

Amazing Faces is the latest anthology by master poet Lee Bennett Hopkins. The collection of sixteen vivid poems celebrate our diversity. Together the poems and illustrations bring to life "faces that reveal the universal feelings we all share. " Chris Soentpiet's detailed illustrations not only complement the poems, but they also honor the faces depicted on the page.

An impressive group of poets including: Joseph Bruchac, Rebecca Kai Dotlich, Nikki Grimes, Pat Mora, Carole Boston Weatherford, Janet S. Wong, Jane Yolen, Mary Cronin, and others contributed works for Amazing Faces.

One of my poet heroes, Rebecca Kai Dotlich, introduces the theme with a poem near and dear to my heart. The accompanying illustration shows a mother holding up her baby. Her poem says exactly what every mother thinks when she looks into the face of her child, "Amazing!" Here is an excerpt from this beautifully crafted poem.

Amazing Face

Amazing, your face,
Amazing.

It shows there will be trails to follow,
porches to wave from, wonder from,
play on.

Rebecca Kai Dotlich, all rights reserved

I recently asked friend and KitLit blogger, Mary Cronin, to share the inspiration for her lovely poem "Firefighter Face."

"I enjoy shining a light on the work of firefighters in my writing; my father was a New York City firefighter for over thirty years. While he never talked about “the job” at home, we knew he loved his work and took great pride in it. “Firefighter Face” was inspired by a picture in a photography book about New York firefighting. In the photo, a firefighter pauses, grimy and exhausted; yet there’s no mistaking the expression on his face, the look of satisfaction in a job well done. I wanted to capture that amazing expression in poetic form, and I dedicate the poem to firefighters and their loved ones."

Firefighter Face

Trickles of sweat etch silvery trails
down wind-bitten cheeks coated with ash.
Curtains of vapor, with each breath he exhales,
wreathe his tired smile, his drooping mustache.

Framed by smoke-smudged wrinkles,
soot-black eyebrows cannot hide
a flash of blue eyes that twinkle
with strength and triumphant pride.

Mary E. Cronin, all rights reserved

Amazing Faces has been awarded a starred review by Publishers Weekly. You can read an interview with Lee Bennett Hopkins and Chris Soentpiet here. As a teacher and writer, I love reading the inspiration behind a poem. You can read stories behind the poems in Amazing Faces here.

Amazing Faces makes my Best Books list for teachers and poetry lovers of all ages.

Sneak Peek: I had also planned to blog about another of Lee's anthologies due to be published next spring, but it's getting late and I can hardly stay awake so I'll hold off until next week and just give a sneak peek. Dizzy Dinosaurs is a collection of silly dinosaur poems. A fun fact is several KidLit bloggers including: Laura Salas, Amy Ludwig VanDerwater, Douglas Florian, and I have poems in this volume. Dizzy Dinosaurs is available for pre-order on Amazon. I'll share some excerpts soon, so stay tuned!

Two Writing Teachers is hosting today's Poetry Friday.

POETRY FRIDAY: What I Learned from...

2010-06-10T15:38:00.000-07:00

Children often think that learning only goes on in the classroom. I do an end of year writing activity that gets my students thinking about what they've learned outside the classroom.

I start by reading an excerpt from Robert Fulghums's All I Really Need to Know I Learned in Kindergarten. Then we brainstorm the experiences and activities they've participated in during the year that helped them learn some important life lessons. Their wisdom at such a young age always blows me away. I thought I'd share a few of their poems with you today.

What I Learned from Lacrosse

Patience is everything,
Rushing doesn’t work.
Pay attention to the rules.
Play fair.

Working as a team
is better than alone.
Be kind to others
even if they aren’t
your friends.

And remember
practice makes perfect.
Never give up,
no matter how
hard your goal is!

-Casey

What I Learned from Fishing

Violence is never rewarded,
so don’t hurt anyone or anything.
A little bit of friendly competition
can make life even more enjoyable.
The best in you comes out when
you’re having fun.
When the fish don’t bite,
there’s always tomorrow.

Untangle your own line.
When you lose a fish,
just put more bait on your hook
and try again.
Patience is always rewarded.
But most importantly,
the size of your catch doesn’t matter
as much as having fun does.

-Jacob

What I Learned from Soccer

Play the game you’re given
with everything you’ve got.

Sometimes the best decisions
are made on the spot.

You should never give up
until the final whistle blows.

Don’t forget about your teammates,
you don’t walk on the field alone.

Charge toward your goal,
and never quit trying.

Your’ gonna’ get fouled on,
so there’s no point in crying.

Listen to other people,
but follow your own heart.

Don’t over think it,
just play the game smart.

Sometime you will fail,
but never have shame.

Remember not to hate the players,
instead love the game!

-Kylie

POETRY FRIDAY

2010-06-02T16:59:00.000-07:00

I live in an area that has a huge deer population. They are beautiful, graceful and very dangerous. I've had many close calls with deer jumping out in front of my car. Somehow I managed to avoid hitting them. That changed last fall when I was riding in a car that struck a deer. A doe suddenly appeared out of nowhere. The driver swerved. It was too late. The deer rolled over the hood of the car and was thrown to the opposite side of the road.

While the driver got out to gather broken pieces of bumper, grill, and headlights, I stayed in the car and watched the doe, still alive, still moving. She slowly raised her head and tried to stand, but she was too weak. I knew there was nothing I could do except pray that death would happen quickly and end her pain. I didn't want her to die alone so we sat silently in the car and waited until she was gone. It broke my heart to watch her eyes close and her head drift down onto the cold asphalt .

Yesterday, I came across "Traveling Through the Dark" by William Stafford. It brought back the sadness I felt that last fall. I love the way William Stafford can tell such a powerful story in just a few short lines of poetry.

Traveling Through The Dark

Traveling through the dark I found a deer
dead on the edge of the Wilson River road.
It is usually best to roll them into the canyon:
that road is narrow; to swerve might make more dead.

By glow of the tail-light I stumbled back of the car
and stood by the heap, a doe, a recent killing;
she had stiffened already, almost cold.
I dragged her off; she was large in the belly.

My fingers touching her side brought me the reason--
her side was warm; her fawn lay there waiting,
alive, still, never to be born.
Beside that mountain road I hesitated

You can read the rest of the poem here.

POETRY FRIDAY: Best Books

2010-05-27T14:17:00.000-07:00

I've wanted to blog about this book for some time, but keep getting sidetracked with other things. Well, here it is Thursday night and I'm knee-high in papers to grade and chores to do, but I wanted to share this book now so that teachers can put it on their summer reading list.

One of the best books I've found for teaching poetry is Betsy Franco's Conversations with a Poet: Inviting Poetry in K-12 Classrooms, Richard Owen Publishers, 2005. There's a lot to love about this book if you're a teacher or if you're someone who wants to learn more about writing poetry. One of the many things I love is that reading this book really does feel like you're having a conversation with Betsy.

Conversations with a Poet is divided into two sections. Section I is titled "Rationales and Practical Ideas for Teaching Poetry. It discusses teaching poetry from a poet's point of view. Many of our favorite children's poets (Lee Bennett Hopkins, Marilyn Singer, Rebecca Kai Dotlich, Bobbi Katz, etc.) share information about their writing process and thoughts on poetry.

Here's a small sampling of what else you'll find in Section I: understanding rhyme and line breaks, revision, assessing poetry, and ways to present and publish student work. I especially love the chapter on the importance of teacher demonstration. I've never understood how someone who doesn't like to write could teach others to write. In my opinion, teacher modeling is essential. If you want them to write, you must write!

If you're a teacher, you're going to want to give Betsy Franco a huge hug! Section II is titled "Unpacking the Poetry Forms," and boy does she do a good job of showing us how to unpack them! This section contains 16 poetry forms with their historical information, characteristics of the form, everyday life parallels of the form, how the form meets objectives and curriculum standards, samples for various levels (primary, elementary, middle/high school), think throughs to get us in the mind of the poet, and a bibliography of other samples of the form. Didn't I tell you this book is a gem! Betsy knows how busy we teachers are, and she's given us everything we need to teach our students the joy of reading and writing poetry.

There is so much more I could say about Conversations with a Poet, but the timer on the dryer just went off, I have two cats demanding to be fed, and then there's those papers to grade (gulp!). This is a very quick overview. I wish I had this book when I first started teaching! I'm amazed at how many resources are packed in this one book. It's reader friendly, but most importantly, it's teacher friendly. Thank you Betsy Franco!

DEAR POETRY FRIDAY FRIENDS

2010-05-21T01:00:00.000-07:00

A month ago, my doctor called to say that my x-ray turned out abnormal. Within days, I was scheduled to see a surgeon who recommended a biopsy. It took a week to get the results. Then two more biopsies were scheduled. By that time, I was beginning to panic. Waiting for the results for each biopsy was excruciatingly difficult. The more time that passed, the more worried I became. Trying to keep my mind focused on my students each day was hard, but at least I was busy. I spent my evenings on the Internet reading everything I could about the diagnosis I feared would become a reality.

I couldn't sleep so I spent my nights with my dear friend, Poetry. I read and reread poems that brought me comfort and gave me hope. I read Trisha's interviews with children's poets. I read the original poems Greg posted over at GottaBook. And I looked forward to reading every post each Poetry Friday. Your poems, interviews and book reviews were a welcome escape.

Thankfully, the biopsies came back okay. I still need some follow-up tests in a few months, but I'm feeling so much relief, I just want to enjoy the present moment. I am so grateful for each of you for putting your heart into sharing your passion for poetry with us every week. I've been reading your blogs for years and feel like many of you are old friends. Your words touch me and make me smile. There's magic in the Internet and the way it connects us to one another. Poetry Friday is a perfect example of how we can make a difference in the lives of others we've never even met.

Last night when I was trying to decide which poem to share today, Jane Kenyon's wonderful poem, "Otherwise" came to mind. I love how she reminds us to enjoy life's simple pleasures and enjoy what we have right now.

Otherwise

I got out of bed
on two strong legs.
It might have been
otherwise. I ate
cereal, sweet
milk, ripe, flawless
peach. It might
have been otherwise.
I took the dog uphill
to the birch wood.
All morning I did
the work I love.

You can read the rest of the poem here.

POETRY FRIDAY: My First Grandchild

2010-03-25T17:01:00.000-07:00

My beautiful granddaughter arrived on Monday, and I have been on Cloud 9 ever since. She is perfect in every way. It's amazing how someone so tiny can change your life and your priorities.. The only heartbreak has been that she is still in NICU. I haven't been able to see her or hold her. Through my son's kindness, I've gotten to see lots of pictures and some videos of her.

Watching my son these past few days has been very emotional for me. He didn't leave his wife's side from Sunday afternoon until Wednesday when she was released from the hospital. Every day the two of them spend every possible moment in NICU caring for their baby girl.. He reads her stories and plays music for her while Mommy rocks her and tries to get her to nurse. When my son speaks of his daughter, the love in his voice is overwhelming. I'm so proud of both of them. They're already the most wonderful parents.

My First Grandchild

Not long ago
I sat in small room
with your mommy and daddy
watching your image
appear on a big white screen.

It was so exciting
to see the shape of your face
those chubby cheeks
long delicate fingers
and ten tiny toes.

You were a dream
in my heart—
waiting two more months
for your birth
seemed like an eternity.

But today,
my angel,
a surprise—
you arrived
six weeks early.

And I can’t wait
to hold you

to spoil you
to tell you stories

to watch you grow.

You are
my first thought
every morning
my first prayer
every night.

I'll love you forever
and I’m so grateful
God has given me you
Evelyn Marie—
My first grandchild.

My Son

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.

The picture you sent—
You cradling your newborn baby
in your strong muscular arms,
your blue eyes gazing down
into her tiny blue eyes,
brought me to tears.
I have never seen you so happy.

I want you to know
how very proud I am of
the man you have become.
and even though you are a daddy,
you will always be my baby.
My love and support
are with you always.

POETRY FRIDAY: After the Storm

2010-02-25T16:08:00.000-08:00

After the Storm

I like watching does
and their fawns trudge
through deep snow to
nibble sparse wet
grass beneath

my deck

I like watching them
balance on thin hind legs
stretching their necks

reaching for last ripe

crabapples on
my tree

And I like watching them

gather into a herd then
stroll back to the woods

leaving behind a

trail of hearts
in the snow

Writing: Making Connections

2010-02-20T14:14:00.000-08:00

Right now I'm sitting on my deck, a chilly breeze is blowing across the snow and the air feels fresh. There is a wooded area behind my house complete with a variety of wildlife and a gurgling stream.

Two squirrels in a nearby tree chatter as they jump from limb to wobbly limb (reminding me of Kristine George's poem "Tree Traffic"). A flash of cardinal wings his way just above the glistening white snow.

It's late afternoon and the deer have come to graze on the little patches of grass near the stream and below my deck. There are eight of them, six does and two young ones. At this distance, t's hard to tell for sure if they are all does. (Bucks don't have antlers during the winter months. ) All eight are very thin. I wish I could feed them, but I know that's the wrong thing to do. Feeding them would make them dependent on humans We need to sell our house before we can retire (way too expensive to live here) and won't be around to feed the deer so they would probably starve.

Seven of the deer are busy grazing, one is staring at me. I think she must be the guard. Every now and then, they all stop and watch me, but this particular doe never turns away for a second! Finally, she starts to eat while two others key their eyes on me. I sit very still so I don't frighten them away. I feel so fortunate to be able to observe these graceful creatures.

I love it here. I feel peaceful and inspired to write. The words come without effort. I know this is far from a polished piece of writing, but maybe it could be the start of something more. Maybe the secret of writing is finding a topic you're actually passionate about. Could it be that simple?

For a long time, I've been asking myself if my goal is to get published, to write what I love, or to write to make a living. My dream would be to combine all three. Stuggling to figure it out has kept me stuck and jumping from project to project instead of finishing anything. So maybe if I connect my desire to write with topics I'm passionate about, I'll actually finish something.

POETRY FRIDAY: Remembering Lucille Clifton

2010-02-19T03:07:00.000-08:00

In honor of Lucille Clifton who passed away last Saturday, I'm sharing one of her poems that I use with my students. I first read "Listen Children" in the poetry collection for children, Pass It On: African-American Poetry for Children. This is a wonderful collection with poems by some of my favorite poets: Nikki Grimes, Langston Hughes, Gwendolyn brooks, Nikki Giovanni, Eloise Greenfield, Mari Evans, Counteee Cullen, Paul Laurence Dunbar, Henry Dumas, and others. The title of the collection comes from the last line in "Listen Children."

Listen Children

listen children

keep this in the place

you have for keeping

always

keep it all ways

we have never hated black

You can read the rest of this poem and other poems by Lucille Clifton here.

Pass it On: African-American Poetry for Children selected by Wade Hudson, Illustrated by Floyd Cooper, Scholastic, 1993.Listen Children

Writing and Fear

2010-02-17T14:36:00.000-08:00

A few years ago, a friend wanted me to go snow tubing. My first response was, "I'm too old for that." Since he's close to my age, he wasn't buying it. I continued with every excuse I could think of: "I don't have the right clothes to wear, I have too much to do, I'll try it another time." I was afraid of failing, and he knew it. He wouldn't relent unitl I agreed to try tubing down a hill in our neighborhood.

Walking to the top of that hill, my mind was racing. What if I get hurt, what if I hurt someone else, and what will people watching me think? Tubing was not in my comfort zone, but my friend wouldn't let me back out. Then, suddenly there I was whooshing down the hill. Immersed in the experience, the fear was gone and I was actually enjoying myself.

It's the same way with writing, especially writing poetry. My poems come from my life and putting myself out there for everyone to see is scary. Fear blocks me from writing the truth. What if I cross the line and expose too much and look like a fool? What if I reveal something that hurts someone I love? What if I don't have anything worth saying? When fear takes over, I start censoring every word, and my poems feel artifical.. They don't mean anythigng to me or to anyone who reads them.

Even when I'm writing in my journal, I sometimes censor my thoughts, especially when I'm writing about a family member. But, mostly, my journal is the place I feel safe enough to write the truth, my truth. This is the place I can write without fear. This is the place I am free to immerse myself in whatever I happen to be writing. So, how can I transfer that fearlessness to the writing I want to share with others? Do professional writers ever experience this kind of fear, or have they learned to overcome it?

This week I've been thinking a lot about Lucille Clifton. Her poems came from her life experiences. I think she might understand what I'm feeling. She wrote about fear in her poem, "telling our stories."

telling our stories

the fox came every evening to my door,
asking for nothing. my fear
trapped me inside, hoping to drive her
away but she sat till morning, watching.

You can read the rest of the poem and a tribute to Lucille Clifton here.

How about you, have you ever experienced fear when you sit down to write? Do you have any tips for moving past the fear?

SNOW! SNOW! and more SNOW!

2010-02-16T09:58:00.000-08:00

Two blizzards in four days left us with a lot of snow! Schools have been closed since Feb. 5. Driving continues to be a challenge with huge piles of snow EVERYWHERE!

Although I'm not happy knowing we've lost our spring break and will be in school until the 4th. of July, for me, the snow was a gift. Normally, the days and weeks fly by so fast I feel like a hamster on a wheel- spinnning and spinning but not getting where I want to be. Like most people, I'm always overscheduling and thinking I have to be the one to get the job done.

The snow has been a blessing because it forced me to slow the pace! The first five days were busy, busy, busy with shoveling and baking and doing household chores. Then finally, finally things slowed down. I finally ran out of "have to dos" and had time for some "wanna dos." For the first time since last summer, I had time to think, time to read, and even some time to write. School will be back in session tomorrow, and things will get crazy again. But for now, I'm going to have a cup of tea and enjoy my time.

POETRY FRIDAY

2010-01-14T22:00:00.000-08:00

This week the American Life in Poetry column featured a poem by Lyn Lifshin that I liked so much, I wanted to share it with you.

The Other Fathers

would be coming back
from some war, sending
back stuffed birds or
handkerchiefs in navy
blue with Love painted
on it. Some sent telegrams
for birthdays, the pastel
letters like jewels. The
magazines were full of fathers who
were doing what had
to be done, were serving,

You can read the rest of the poem here.

Writing to Inspire

2010-01-09T15:09:00.000-08:00

I love reading articles and books about writing. I have four entire shelves of writers' memoirs and writing how-to books. Maybe I read so many of them because I'm still trying to figure out where I fit in the world of writing.

Lately, I've been reading INSPIRE! WRITING FROM THE SOUL by Linda C. Apple. Linda has written many stories for the CHICKEN SOUP series. I love the CHICKEN SOUP books. I've found inspiration and comfort in the stories, and judging by the popularity of the series, so have many other people.

When I heard that Linda Apple had written a how-to book about writing for the inspirational market, I had to have it. The book is a combination of writing exercises, marketing information, and the author's personal revelations about how she came to write inspirational stories.

One exercise I've been working on asks, "What is your landscape?" (p.23). To find the landscapes of your life, begin by listing the influential people and events in your life. Then make a separate sheet for each item. Each day, choose one (event or person) and list every memory that comes to mind. This excercise is similar to the Nancy Atwell's writing territories exercise I use to help my middle school students find meaningful writing topics, but the questions are a bit more guided.

I was surprised by the things I remembered when I listed my "landscapes." I wrote a poem, "Thrity-Two Cents" about an event I had forgotten for many years. At first, I worried the poem would give a negative impression of my mother and wasn't sure if I should post it on my blog. But, this quote from the book, "We cannot change the pain of the past, but we can give health to the future," reminded me that by telling our stories, we might help someone else, help ourselves understand the experience better, and make peace with the past.

What I like most about INSPIRE! is its encouraging tone, the writing exercises, and the marketing tips. One of my writing goals has always been to write something that would help and inspire others. I don't know if I can do that, but I'd like to try. I need to work on the "landscapes" exercise a bit more to find out if the inspirational market might be right for me.

A New Year, A New Blog

2010-01-01T16:22:00.000-08:00

For years, I've written my thoughts, joys, and frustrations about writing in my journal. After looking through some of the entries, I started wondering how other writers handle the ups and downs of the writing life. There's so many questions I wish I could ask them.
Journals are great, but they are usually private so I decided that this year, instead of writing in my journal about my writing experiences, I'll blog about them. I'm hoping other writers will join in to share their thoughts and experiences so we can learn from each other. I named the blog Word-by-Word because this year I'm focusing on taking small steps to accomplish my goals. I hope you'll stop by.

2010-01-01T10:07:00.001-08:00

Welcome to Word-by-Word! The beginning of a new year seems like the perfect time to try something new. Writing is mostly a solitary act, and sometimes we feel alone in our experiences. As someone who is still learning about the craft and business of writing, I wanted a place to share random thoughts and connect with other writers. My hope is that the blog will be interactive with an exchange of ideas and support. If you have an aspect of writing you'd like us to discuss, please leave a message in the comments section, and I'll include it in an upcoming post. I hope to hear from you!

Writing and Self-Doubt

Most days when school is in session there's little time to do anything except school work and household chores. This holiday season, thanks to the blizzard, I've had two weeks off from school. The perfect time to get some writing done.

Every morning I told myself that I'd block out some time for writing, but the days passed with very little time spent writing. It seemed like there was always something else that needed my attention. It often happens this way, when I have a lot of time to write, I don't. Now, with only two days before I return to a busy teaching schedule, I'm questioning why I haven't worked on any of my projects.

Is it because I don't really want to write? I don't think that's it. I make time to write in my journal almost every day. I write emails to friends and family. I write poems, stories, and essays to use in my classroom (not great pieces of literature, but they serve the purpose.)

Am I just being a lazy procrastinator? Hmmm, maybe, but anytime I have a deadline to meet (writing or otherwise), I always finish early. I just finished a work-for-hire project where I wrote 30 short poems (4-6 lines each) in about 3 weeks. It was an assignment. I signed a contract. It had to be done, so I got right to work. In fact, I've had a number of poems and essays published, but almost all of those were "assignments" with deadlines.

Am I someone who wants to "have written" instead of actually doing the writing? I don't that that's it either. When I finally get started writing, I'm totally immersed in it and lose all track of time.

So what is keeping me from accomplishing my writing goals? Could it be the fear that I'm really not very good at writing? Every time I start working on one of my "projects" Self Doubt jumps up on the keyboard and growls, "Who do you think you are? Look at the great poems and stories other people are writing. You're wasting your time. No one wants to read your writing, leave it to the professionals!"

Suddenly, my mind is paralyzed just like the day I had a panic attack and couldn't make a left-hand turn on a busy intersection. Car horns blared , a man in a pick-up truck shouted obscenities out of his window, and my two young sons in the back seat begged me to, "Go!" I couldn't think. I couldn't move. Writing feels like that sometimes.

Funny, how it never happens when I write in my journal or emails or poems just for me. No one judges that kind of writing, do they? No worries about looking foolish or embarrassing myself for not using enough imagery or the right words. I just write for the joy of it.

So, here I am on New Year's Day with big dreams of writing poems and stories that inspire and encourage young readers. I've tried to move on to something else and give up my dream, but the writing bug won't let go.

How do I overcome self-doubt and get on with the writing? Would I be happier keeping my writing to myself? Will I ever know if my writing is truly good enough for others to want to read? These are the questions I need to answer for myself.

Have you ever struggled with feelings of self-doubt? If so, I'd love to know what you've done to overcome it.

You can read about how another writer deals with self-doubt here.

Beginnings

2010-01-01T00:15:00.000-08:00

A New Year Begins

Like a field of fresh fallen snow
sparkling
with possibilities

unblemished, unspoiled, unbroken
magic—
gone too soon.

Happy New Year!
May all of your hopes and dreams come true!

You can read other poems about beginnings and endings here.

Thinking Ahead

2009-12-31T16:06:00.000-08:00

Every Dec. 31 I write personal and professional goals that I plan to accomplish during the new year. Actually, it's more like revising the ones I didn't accomplish the year before. It's embarrassing to admit that I've had the same goals for years and years. I start out determined and inspired, but I never quite get there.
Well, I think I've finally come up with an action plan that will work. It's so simple. I've used this strategy to plan my teaching goals for the last 3 yrs. I don't know why I never made the connection to the goals I set for myself.

At the beginning of every school year, our faculty formulates SMART goals. You've probably already heard of this strategey, but in case you haven't, here it is in a nutshell. SMART is an acronym for:
Specific
Measureable
Attainable
Relevent
Timely

So, instead of my usual goal of improving my writing skills, my SMART goal is:

attend our local spring writing conference
enroll in an online poetry class this summer
write for two poems each week
read at least 3 poems every day
read a book on writer's craft once a month

I have other writing goals too, but the "improving my writing" goal must come first.

What about you, what are your writing goals for 2010? How do you plan to accomplish them?

POETRY FRIDAY

2009-12-17T06:00:00.000-08:00

Last week, my students wrote poems and made holiday cards for our soldiers in Iraq and Afghanistan. I was proud of the gratitude and support my students showed toward the soldiers. The activity brought back memories of Vietnam and how our soldiers were treated so poorly.

I was in the military during the Vietnam War. I was never sent to combat, but I had several friends who were. This is a poem I'm working on in rememberance of a friend who was drafted and sent to Vietnam.

What He Lost

Celebrated
and congratulated,
hometown hero
of our high school
football team—

My best friend,
barely eighteen
was drafted
to the big league--
Vietnam.

He didn’t want to go,
but his country needed him,
always a team player—
he did what he had to do.

Two years later
he came home
harassed,
an outcast
disdained by the town
that once loved him.

No thanks
No welcome home
No ticker tape parade
All he had left were
scars so deep
no one could see—
permanent reminders
of what he lost
in Vietnam.

Wishing all of us peace on earth.

Happy Holidays!

Linda

Gifts From the Heart Not the Store

2009-12-16T17:46:00.000-08:00

I don't usually blog during the week, but an email arrived today that I just had to share from Poets.org.

I'm always looking for ideas to help my students give the gift of their poetry. We've done chapbooks, posters, cards, poetry cubes, poetry mobiles, pictures using items from nature, etc., but I never thought of a poetry snowglobe or poetry ornaments.

If you're looking for some great ideas for last minute gifts that come from the heart, take a look at the "Do-It-Yourself: Holiday Poetry Activities for Kids."

What other ideas do you have for sharing gifts of poetry?

POETRY FRIDAY:Poetry Stretch and Word of the Month

2009-12-10T15:17:00.000-08:00

This week I participated in the The Miss Rumphius Monday Poetry Stretch. The challenge was to write a poem about time. I've been thinking about time a lot lately. You see, my first grandchild is due in May. I can't believe my son is going to be a dad. Not so long ago, he was a just baby himself. Okay, that was 31 yrs. ago, but it sure doesn't seem that long. He and his brother grew up much too fast. Now they are starting families of their own. What fantastic dads they're going be! This poem is for my son, Tim and his little one.

To My Unborn Grandchild

It wasn’t so long ago
that your daddy
was a baby—

my baby

Even before he was born
I knew I would love him
forever.

From the first time
the nurse placed
your daddy in my arms
I wished he would stay little,
forever.

I wanted to watch him sleep
and read him stories,
touch his tiny toes,
and listen to his first words
forever.

But only love lasts
forever—
babies grow up
much too fast
and soon your daddy
became a young man,
a young man
who dreamed of a baby
of his own.

Now he’s waiting
for you to arrive—
so he can watch you sleep
and read you stories,
touch your tiny toes
and listen to your first words.

He already knows
he’ll love you
forever

and
so will I.

Love, Grandma

You can read more of the "time" poems here.

I also wrote a poem for David L Harrison's Word of the Month challenge. The word this month is bone. There's still time to play. Check it out here.

I never knew my father, but I used to imagine the things we'd do together if he ever came back home. Somehow, even in my dreams, he never stayed.

Wishes

After dinner
Mom asked if I
wanted to break the
wishbone with her.

When I said, “No.”
She didn’t say anything
but I could tell
she was hurting.

I was hurting too
remembering how
you and I shared the wish-
bone every Thanksgiving.

You’d always laugh,
wrap your fingers tight
around your half
and pretend to snap it
before I was ready.

But then you’d
let me win
so I could make
my own special wish.

Well, I’m older now,
and since you left
wishbones
have lost their magic.

So what good are they?
Wishes don’t come true,
do they,
Dad?

POETRY FRIDAY

2009-11-26T10:26:00.000-08:00

We have a little stray cat in our neighborhood that stops by now and then hoping for a handout. I was glad she came by tonight. I can't imagine how hard daily life must be for her. I wanted to take her picture, but I was afraid the flash would frighten her, so instead I just sat with her while she ate. I wish I could give her a home, but two cats are all I can handle.

Thanksgiving Night

Stray cat and I sit
on the back porch sharing
leftover turkey.
Her purr tells me she’s thankful
she won’t go hungry— tonight.

My kitties, Butterscotch and Daisy enjoyed their holiday meal. They ate with gusto but didn't seem quite as thankful as the little stray.

POETRY FRIDAY: Heaven Looks a Lot Like Mall

2009-11-11T16:50:00.000-08:00

Heaven Looks A Lot Like the Mall

Wendy Mass

When sixteen-year old Tessa suffers a shocking accident in gym class, she finds herself in heaven (or what she thinks is heaven), which happens to bear a striking resemblance to her hometown mall. In the tradition of It's a Wonderful Life and A Christmas Carol, Tessa starts reliving her life up until that moment. She sees some things she'd rather forget, learns some things about herself she'd rather not know, and ultimately must find the answer to one burning question--if only she knew what the question was.

When I heard that author Wendy Mass would be visiting our school next spring, I wasn't familiar with her work so I decided to read some of her books. I'm so glad I did. I started with Heaven Looks A Lot Like the Mall because I love verse novels. After reading the back cover (quoted above) I was expecting an entertaining story, but I wasn't expecting just how much of myself I'd see in the story.

Tessa, with the help of her guide, a boy she refers to as Nail Boy, has the opportunity to find out who she really is. She realizes that she's done many things in the past she isn't proud of. She also realizes that although her focus has been on the negative parts of her life, there have been many positive times too. I think readers will see a little of themselves in Tessa because we've all done things we wish we could take back, and often forget to enjoy the good things. I also think that many of us go through times in our life when we wonder who we really are. One poem I especially like asks the question that many teens (and adults) have. It begins:

Speaking of college,
why are my parents making me
write my college application essay
when there's still two years of junior year left?

And why does the essay question have to be so hard?
Who are you?
They have the nerve to ask me this,
and then tell me I can attach extra paper,
if I need it.

Who am I?
I have no idea.

I won't give away the ending, but I will say I've been thinking about it since I finished the book. I have some questions I can't wait to ask Wendy Mass about Heaven Looks A Lot Like the Mall.

Three of her other books, Every Soul a Star, A Mango-Shaped Space and Jeremy Fink and The Meaning of Life are on my Christmas Wish List. They aren't verse novels, but I like the author's voice and style so I'm certain I'll enjoy reading them.

POETRY FRIDAY: Poetry Stretch

2009-09-17T17:28:00.000-07:00

The Miss Rumphius Monday Poetry Stretch this week was to write a poem around a prefix. This is a second version of my poem. I'm still not happy with the rhythm, but it's getting there. As always, suggestions are welcome and appreciated.

Un
willing
to hurt Mom again
I decide to lie—
Allergies caused
my red swollen eyes.

Un
true
every promise
every I love you—
the devoted father
I thought I knew.

Un
fair
the way you left
without good-bye
without a hug
without telling me—
why.

Un
forgiven
you abandoned me
you broke Mom’s heart
you tore our family—
tree apart.

Un
certain
what to say
what to do—
Please come home
Dad,
I still love you.

POETRY FRIDAY: Splitting an Order

2009-09-10T14:59:00.000-07:00

Ted Kooser is one of my all time favorite poets. His poems capture everyday life and remind us of what's really important. This poem arrived in my email earlier this week, and I thought you might enjoy it as much as I did. It comes from his Valentines collection.

Splitting an Order
Ted Kooser

I like to watch an old man cutting a sandwich in half,
maybe an ordinary cold roast beef on whole wheat bread,
no pickles or onion, keeping his shaky hands steady
by placing his forearms firm on the edge of the table
and using both hands, the left to hold the sandwich in place,
and the right to cut it surely, corner to corner,

Read the rest of the poem here.

Poetry Friday: Inspired to Write

2009-09-04T03:41:00.000-07:00

Kids love riddles and so do I. Spot the Plot written by J Patrick Lewis and illustrated by Lynn Munsinger is a collection of 13 riddle poems that every reading/language arts teacher should own. It is fantastic for teaching plot!

The recommended age group is K-4, but I never pay attention to that sort of thing. A good book works for all ages. I teach grades 6-8 . My students love humor, and they love figuring out puzzles so I knew Spot the Plot would be a hit.

On Monday, I read the first poem that begins with:

The sky shook,
the wind tossed
me in the air.
Toto-ly lost.

That’s all it took, and my 7th. graders to stretched their hands in the air hoping to be the one chosen to solve the riddle.

The bell rang before I could read anymore. Middle school kids have many important things on their minds so I thought they’d forget all about the riddles. No chance. Tuesday came, and they wanted to hear more “plot riddles.” Not one of them knew what “plot” meant before I introduced the poems

A great book inspires writers, and my middle school writers were certainly inspired. On Thursday, they came to class with their own plot riddle poems (and it wasn't even an assignment)! See if you can guess the stories.

Awaiting a kiss,
from her Prince Charming,
her three fairy friends
were trying to be alarming.

Cursed in a coma,
she had to await,
her true love’s kiss
for her to awake.

After this was done,
there was lots of laughter,
the new princess and prince,
lived Happily Ever After.

-Cara

A girl with locks of gold
was in a hungry mood.
Despite what she was told,
she went to find some food.

Then she smelled something yummy
which came from inside a home.
Food soon filled her tummy
and throughout the home she roamed.

A bed she found
and took a rest.
Then she heard a sound
and discovered she’s a guest.

Sitting downstairs
were three bears
waiting in chairs.
OH! WHAT A SCARE!

-Ryan

They know what plot means now thanks to Spot the Plot.

Tricia wrote a wonderful review and shared some of the poems from the Spot the Plot on her blog, The Miss Rumphius Effect. Be sure to check it out here.

Wondering

2009-08-30T14:54:00.000-07:00

Recently, I realized my mother has never told me much about what I was like as a baby. The only thing she ever told me was that my father would put me in the closet when I cried until I eventually fell asleep. The other night on the phone, I asked her to tell me more, but it's been over fifty years and many babies came after me. She said she really couldn't remember anything. Funny how after all this time, I just now started wondering about it.

Today, I wrote this in my journal. Is it the start of a poem or just random thoughts? I'm not sure. Whatever it is, it still needs work. Suggestions and comments are welcome and appreciated. : )

Wondering

My mother never talks about
what I was like as a baby.
Anytime I ask she says
I don’t remember.

The only story she tells
is how when I was little
my father used to put me
in a dark closet until
I cried myself to sleep.
She says he hated hearing
me cry but when I ask her
why—
she just says
I don’t remember.

My father wouldn’t
have to worry now
(If he were around)
I NEVER cry
anymore.

I wonder
if it's because
somewhere deep down
inside—

I
remember.

Poetry Friday: Trooper

2009-08-27T17:00:00.000-07:00

Earlier this month, our local news reported on a pit bull found in a D.C. city dumpster, apparently a victim of dog fighting. She was taped inside a plastic trash bag and discarded.

I haven't been able to stop thinking about her and what a horrific existence she must have had. My heart aches to know that there are many animals abused everyday. I can't understand how someone could put an animal through so much pain.

I needed to do something, so I sent a donation in her honor to a fund for abused animals. That just didn't seem like enough so as I thought about what to share this week for Poetry Friday, I decided to share her story. She fought so hard to survive, the police officer who rescued her named her Trooper.

I couldn't get the lines to indent the way I wanted them to so I hope it still makes sense.

for Trooper

You weren’t willing
to die that day—
when they taped
your bruised and battered
body inside a plastic bag
and tossed you
into a city dumpster.

You weren’t willing
to die that day—
when you bravely chewed
your way through the darkness—
a hole just big enough
to be seen

your face layered
with blood and flies
barely alive—

You weren’t willing
to die that day
when your savior
freed your tortured limbs

too weak to stand alone
too strong to give up

You weren’t willing
to die that day—
neglected, abused
forced to be a fighter

but still
somehow
willing

to forgive—

You can see a picture of Trooper and read more about her progress here.

Poetry Friday: Last Year's Sneakers

2009-08-13T17:18:00.000-07:00

Tricia's poetry stretch this week at The Miss Rumphius Effect was to write a poem about an article of clothing. Be sure to visit her site to read the great poems folks wrote in response to the challenge.

Like most kids, when my sons were younger, getting just the right sneakers was always high on their back to school shopping list. As soon as we got home from the store, off went the old sneakers, on with the new. The old sneakers abandoned and forgotten. This is my tribute to all the old sneakers still lying on some kid's bedroom floor.

Last Year’s Sneakers

Lie on the bedroom floor
their smooth white skin
now scuffed by time
their laces once neon tangerine
now thread-bare apricot
their soles once full of bounce
now worn and weary

Last year’s sneakers
lie on the bedroom floor
watching
their replacements
unboxed, laced up
and admired

Finally—

Last year’s sneakers
lie on the bedroom floor
retired
ready to rest

Poetry Friday: Embarrassing Then, Funny Now

2009-08-06T17:00:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, we got a post card in the mail announcing monthly bulk trash pick-up. As I thought about the items I might set out, a childhood experience came back to me.. I remembered the embarrassment and horror that my friends would find out our family secret, but now it's just plain funny. I couldn't get the formatting to work the way I wanted it to, but here's what I wrote in my journal:

Shopping

Tuesday nights after supper,
our family went shopping—
cruising rich neighborhoods
scanning garbage heaps like pirates
searching for trash night treasures.

There! Mom would squeal,
That vinyl chair is perfect!

We’d coast along the curb
so Dad could get a better look,
Yep! Looks ALMOST new!

In a breath,
he was out of the car,
our prize hoisted into the trunk
the lid battened down with rope—
we were ready to sail

Sometimes
(so embarrassing)
Dad knocked on the door requesting
permission to pick through
a pile full possibilities.

Dad could fix anything
worn out washers
broken bikes
toasters, TVs—

Our house a bounty
of other people’s
throw-aways—
I worried my friends
would spot
THEIRS!

And wished
just once—

We could shop
in a store
like they did.

Poetry Friday: COUNTDOWN TO SUMMER

2009-07-31T01:00:00.000-07:00

With only two weeks before school starts, there's so much to do to get ready! I'm always looking for time savers, and I just found a great one in J Patrick Lewis' new collection, COUNTDOWN TO SUMMER: A Poem for Every Day of the School Year. It is an excellent choice for teachers who want to bring more poetry into their classroom.

My first thought was that this would be a wonderful gift for new teachers who don't yet have files of resources. What a fun way to encourage them to share daily poems with their students!

But new teachers shouldn't have all the fun. This collection is an excellent resource for all teachers. The poems in COUNTDOWN TO SUMMER are perfect for daily warm-ups. Kids will love watching the days decrease with each daily poem.

The 180 poems are short and contain lots of teaching points. For example poem 172 begins:

Eid ul-Fitr

The new moon is rising.
Ramadan has passed,
Holiest of holy months
When true believers fast.

Gathering at the mosque,
Borne on wings of prayer,
Quitting fast to feast,
A festival affair

I teach in a school where many religions and cultures are represented. Wouldn’t this poem make a great discussion starter or writing prompt for students to share some of their own customs and traditions? In addition, kids are learning about a culture they probably aren’t very familiar with. Other poems about Hanukkah, Kwanzaa, Chinese New Year, Easter, St. Patrick, etc., will also provide students with cultural mini-lessons.

Another time-saving feature of the collection is the poems are written in many different forms: concrete poems, epitaphs, quatrains, acrostics, riddles, limericks, haikus, and even an abecedarian. I teach many of these forms so I’m always looking for examples kids will understand and relate to. For example, I think poem 175, “Reading Harry Potter Under the Sheets” is perfect teaching quatrains and rhyme scheme. The first three stanzas:

I’m quarter-past Chapter One
Of the last of Harry’s feats.
This flashlight’s my midnight sun.
I burrow under the sheets.

Book Seven’s supposed to be
The last of the Rowling run.
Gazillions can’t wait to see
Who’s defeated and who’s won.

Will Voldemort get his due?
Will Ron or Hermione die?
Or Hagrid? Is Hagrid through?
Now who will it be and why?

This poem will definitely get my middle school students’ attention!

An abecedarian isn’t a form I’ve taught in the past, but with this example, I think my students would be able to write one of their own. Poem 174 begins:

The Librarian

After school one day I was talking to Mr.
Butterwinkle, the school librarian.
“Can you
Define ABECEDARIAN?”
“Easy,” he said. “But
First I think you should
Go to the Webster’s Unabridged Dictionary, and…

Note: (You can read more abecedarian poems from a Miss Rumphius’ poetry challenge here.)

J Patrick Lewis has provided busy teachers with a time-saving resource. Like the poems, the illustrations by Ethan Long are lively and fun. I can’t wait to share COUNTDOWN TO SUMMER with my students. This collection will be a delightful addition to any classroom and especially enjoyed by children in grades 3 and up.

Poetry Friday: SOLD

2009-07-17T01:00:00.000-07:00

I finished reading SOLD by Patricia McCormick last week, and I still can't stop thinking about it. This book was painful yet riveting to read. At one point, I put it away determined not to finish it because the story just too horrifying, but then I had to know the ending.

Written in free verse, the story is told from the point of view of 13 yr. old Lakshmi who lives in Nepal with her mother, little brother and negligent step-father. Her family lives in poverty, food is scarce and daily survival is increasingly difficult.

Lakshmi spends her days tending to her small garden, caring for her goat, going to school and dreaming of a brighter future. Then, something happens that changes her life forever; she is sold. Believing she is going to work as a maid for a wealthy family, she soon finds herself living a nightmare.

This book took an emotional toll on me. As I read, I couldn't comprehend how something this monsterous could happen and continues to go on. Each year 12,ooo Nepali girls are sold into sexual slavery. Patricia McCormick did extensive research traveling to Nepal and India to interview the women who suvived to tell their story. The book is written in their honor.

This is an important book that brings awareness to a generally unknown human crisis.

SOLD is YA novel and is recommended for readers high school age and beyond.

While I Was Away...

2009-07-16T12:10:00.000-07:00

Wow, it's been quite a while since my last post! I've had a very busy month: writing curriculum, attending a week-long children's lit conference, taking gradutate classes, planning for next year, household chores, and spending time with family. You know, all those things teachers do while they have the summer "off."

One of the hightlights of the summer was attending the Shenandoah University Children's Lit Conference. The theme was "Getting Boys Hooked on Books." I got to hear some terrific authors: Jon Scieszka, Ralph Fletcher, Jack Gantos, Jerry Pinkney, Gordon Korman, Chris Crutcher, David Macaulay, among others. It was great fun to hear how some of their books came about and their thoughts on motivating boys to read.

One author suggested having a "Guys Only" section of reading material in the class. I like that idea very much, and it got me to thinking that I might try a "Recommended by Guys" section. Middle schoolers love to share their opinions and having their peers recommend a book might be the encouragement my boys need to do more reading.

I returned home with some fresh ideas and fantastic new books to share in August. I'll be writing more about the conference in future posts.

So, how's your summer going so far?

Poetry Friday

2009-06-04T15:12:00.000-07:00

I love taking writing classes. I've taken many, and I've learned something from each of them. In this economy, I hadn't planned on taking any classes this year. It was a luxury I didn't think I could afford.

Then, I heard about Laura Salas' new class, a rhyming poetry workshop. Poetry writing classes for children's writers are rare so I really wanted to take this one. When I saw how affordable the price was, I immediately signed up! I'm so glad I did.

Anyone who has ever taken one of Laura's online classes will tell you that she is an excellent teacher. Her lessons are clearly written with helpful links and tons of examples. I'm not much of a techie, but with Laura's instructions I was able to navigate the site and take advantage of the multi-media resources.

Technology is great, but nothing takes the place of personal one-on-one feedback. Laura gave detailed critiques with honest yet encouraging suggestions. In all the classes I've taken, I've never had an instructor give such an indepth line-by-line critique. I could tell that Laura put a lot of time and thought into her responses.

I took the class with a wonderful group of folks. I enjoyed reading their poems, and the suggestions they gave me to improve my poems were so helpful. Everyone worked to encourage and support each other.

It's tough to put yourself out there and share your work with others. The instructor sets the tone for the class, and Laura's warm personality always puts everyone at ease. She gives her students a safe environment to take risks in their writing.

Another personal touch in Laura's classes is that she is generous with her time. She tirelessly answers every question and shares her personal experiences and knowledge of the publishing world.

My only regret is that I didn't have as much time to put into the class as I had hoped. The last month of school is one of the busiest times for teachers. I would have loved to have participated more in the book discussions and revising my poems, but I am printing all the critiques so I'll have plenty to work on this summer.

The class has ended, but the lessons I've learned will help me to continue improving as a writer.

We're very fortunate to have Laura, a talented poet and teacher, offering poetry classes. I plan to take as many of her poetry classes that I can while she is still offering them. I hope some of our other Poetry Friday folks will join me.

Poetry Friday: Love Poems

2009-05-14T16:22:00.000-07:00

I am crazy busy teaching full time, taking two graduate classes and doing my homework for Laura Salas' wonderful new rhyming poetry class (more about that next week). I hadn't planned on posting, but I just finished Gary Soto's newest collection of love poems: Partly Cloudy: Poems of Love and Longing and enjoyed it so much that I wanted to let you know about it. Sylvia has an excellent review of the collection over at Poetry for Children. Gary Soto is a multi-talented writer of picture books, novels, short stories, and poetry collections for all ages. If he's not an author you're familiar with, you don't know what you're missing! You can read more about Gary Soto and his work here.

Poetry Friday: Classroom Connection

2009-04-23T16:02:00.000-07:00

I read so many wonderful reviews of J Patrick Lewis’ new book, The Underwear Salesman: And Other Jobs for Better or Verse I couldn’t wait to read it, and of course I loved it! As I read, the poems seemed perfect for teaching two very difficult literary elements, tone and mood. My middle school students frequently get them confused and have a hard time understanding the difference in the two so I try to review them several times each school year.

The poems in The Underwear Salesman work great because they’re short, fun to read, and each poem has a personality of its own. Middle school students love to role play so the unusual careers in the collection such as: “Bathroom Attendant” and “Cuckoo-Clock Repairman” gave them lots of room to get into character.

Here's what I did:

First, I modeled by reading the poem “Librarian” using a very uppity boastful tone of voice.

Librarian
No one has more fun than I!
I’ve met Harriet the Spy,
Ferdinand the Bull, and Pooh.
(Eeyore says, “How do you do?”)

You can read the rest of the poem here: Poetry for Children.

After the laughter stopped, students identified the tone I used, and then they identified the mood they felt as they listened to the poem.

Next, pairs of students selected a poem from The Underwear Salesman and wrote it down in their journal. I gave each pair an index card with a “secret” tone word on it. After practicing reading their poem using the assigned tone, they read their poem aloud to the class.

I divided the class in half. One group focused on tone, the other focused on mood. Using a resource list of tone and mood words, the groups identified the tone and mood of the poem. When students began pointing out that someone speaking in a boastful tone could make listeners feel hurt or angry, I knew they got it!

We had a lot of fun with this lesson. Next time, I think I’ll try having students read the poem then choose the tone they think the person who does that job might use instead of assigning a tone.

If you’re looking for a fun way to teach tone and mood, give The Underwear Salesman a try!

Want to know more about J Patrick Lewis?
Read an interview with him over at The Miss Rumphius Effect.

Check out J Patrick Lewis' website here.

Poetry Friday

2009-04-16T16:46:00.000-07:00

As a kid, I loved amusement parks. The Merry-Go-Round was one of my favorite rides, but there was something mysterious about those horses that made me wonder what they might be thinking. Today a student told me she got a carousel music box for her birthday, and I started thinking about those horses again. So, I wanted to write her a poem. This is what I have so far.

All day long
carousel ponies sleep
dreaming of wild open ranges
grazing green meadows
galloping across mesas
until dark—

and then the music begins...

Poetry Friday: Happy Birthday, Lee Bennett Hopkins!

2009-04-09T11:00:00.000-07:00

In honor of Lee's upcoming birthday, April 13, I'm sharing a review of a collection of autobiographical poems, BEEN TO YESTERDAYS. This collection was first published in 1995, and continues to be one I use in my classroom.

The emotion packed poems follow young Lee through his eventful and often painful adolescence. The very first poem in the collection is my favorite because it is a reminder that a picture might be worth a thousand words, but a picture doesn't always tell the truth.

from "Smile

for the camera."
the photographer
said
as we posed.
all dressed up
in our best
Sunday clothes.

"Smile big now.
Smile wide.
The five of you
look like
birds of a feather
nestled
together."

How many of us have appeared "like birds of a feather" for a photograph when things were actually falling apart?

I especially love the conversational tone of the poems, perfect for reminding us that some conversations are never forgotten such as when your parents tell you they're getting divorced. My mother was very angry when my father left us. I wish she would've softened the blow a little the way Lee's mother did in "Since."

But he's still
your Daddy.
He always will be.
He's still a good man.
Still part of me.

It's important to know
that he'll always
love you,
your sister,
your brother,
and Grandma too.

BEEN TO YESTERDAYS is always popular with my middle school students because they can identify with the topics Lee writes about. They have experienced: divorce, trying to figure out who they are, missing an absent parent, and the death of a loved one.The poems reach out to young people, even boys who claim they don't like poetry.

This is also an excellent collection to teach students about using voice in their writing. I use the poem,"Another" about overhearing parents argue and "the/dreaded/word—/divorce" as a prompt for my eighth graders to write about an overheard conversation. Kids overhear much more than we're ever aware of. Their poems retelling conversations range from hiliarious to deeply moving.

About writing the collection, Lee says, "I still marvel at my creating BEEN TO YESTERDAYS: POEMS OF A LIFE (BoydsMills Press) published over fourteen years ago…so long I almost forget writing it.The book received great national attention including being an SCBWI Golden KiteHonor Book and winning the Christopher Medal which was presented to me by James Earl Jones! But – I couldn’t attend the affair in NYC due to a prior commitment to a friend who had asked me a long time prior to speak at a dinner meeting in South Carolina! As I was eating spaghetti all I could think of was Mr. Jones. My agent, the great-late Marilyn E. Marlow accepted the award for me…and never let me forget the moment!

…YESTERDAYS continues to be read and read and used in all kinds of programs from youth groups to Al-Anon groups. The small book has touched so many; I never knew the power of the words could have gone on so long."

If you've read BEEN TO YESTERDAYS, read it again. I discover something new every time I read it. If you haven't read it yet, you're missing out on a great one!

The final stanzas in the poem, "To" make a perfect ending for the collection.

To
make
this world
a whole lot
brighter,

when
I grow up,
I'll
be
a
writer.

You sure have, made the world a whole lot brighter,Lee! Happy Birthday!

Poetry Friday

2009-03-26T15:54:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, Elaine over at Wild Rose Reader, shared an article called, "Astronomers catch a shooting star for the 1st time."

Anything abour astronomy always "catches" my eye. As a little girl, I dreamed of being the first woman astronaut (way,way before Sally Ride). When I was old enough, I joined the Air Force just so I could be around airplanes and hang out with the pilots.

So, when my sons were very young, they were a captive audience. I read them tons of books about the universe and space travel. My older son became especially interested and got his first telescope when he was still in elementary school. Almost every evening, no matter how hot or how cold, he'd take his telescope out, and he and his little brother looked at the constellations, and when they found something extra special, they'd call me to come take a look too.

Years ago, I wrote a poem about them, and Lee Bennett Hopkins liked it enough to include it in one of his anthologies. Later, it was made into a poster by a publisher of educational materials. Although the poem's written from the perspecitive of a younger brother admiring his older brother, I can hear both of my sons saying the last line about his brother.

Stars

Clear winter evenings
my brother sets up
his telescope in
the middle of the yard
and shows me the stars—

He says someday
he’ll discover a new one
and be famous—

But, I wonder
if he knows
he’s already a star—
to me.

It's no secret, they're both stars to me. My older son is now a physics professor who has also taught astronomy. He often writes about the universe on his blog: http://scienceatoz.blogspot.com/2009_01_01_archive.html
My younger son is a writer and an IT specialist who is totally immersed in the world of technology. If you want to keep up on the latest, you can find his blog at:http://seccode.blogspot.com/.

Poetry Friday

2009-03-19T15:00:00.000-07:00

I had been reading Sylvia Vardell’s blog, Poetry for Children, for several months when I found out that she also writes a column for Book Links. I loved her blog, so I immediately subscribed to the journal, and I’m so glad I did. What I discovered is that her column (along with the rest of the journal) is a fantastic resource for teachers and a great way for writers to keep up with what’s being published.

For example, in the March issue, Sylvia’s column is titled “Audiovisual Poetry.” She lists a variety of multimedia resources and ideas for classroom application. (For more ideas on using multimedia methods to share poetry, check out Poetry For Children.)

Each issue also includes a poem and tips for sharing it with children. This month the poem is “Onion Snow” by one of my favorite poets, Bobbi Katz. Sylvia explains how teachers can turn the poem into a multimedia and multisensory experience for children.
For some reason, I couldn't get the poem to line up quite the way it's supposed. I tried and tried.
The two shorter lines should be indented. My apology.

Onion Snow
I wake to heavy quiet this April morning:
a special weighted sound.
Outside my window snowflakes fall
softly, softly feathering the ground—
softly, softly bearding the daffodils.
Grandma always called it onion snow.
Arriving when wild onions have
started to grow,
those foolish fat flakes don’t
seem to know,
they are too late for winter
and misfits in spring.
“Come listen to that onion snow!”
she would have said.
“Have you ever heard
such a silence??”

"Onion Snow" Copyright c 2009 by Bobbi Katz

www.bobbikatz.com

The rest of the journal is a gem too. Each issue has a theme, this month it’s science. There is an interview with Joyce Sidman (another fav) talking about “the challenges of portraying science and the natural world.” Teacher, Dean Schneider’s column is on “Finding the Best Novels in Verse.” Also included in this issue: the “Best New Books for Classrooms”, an interview with Sally Ride, “Science as Biography,” and so much more. Book Links covers all genres and has something for anyone interested in children’s literature.

Money is tight for most of us right now, so I’ve given up all subscriptions except for the three I enjoy most: Book Links, SCBWI Bulletin, and Children’s Writer. Each of these are worth every penny.

“Onion Snow”, Bobbi Katz, Book Links, March 2009.

Poetry Friday

2009-03-12T16:14:00.000-07:00

A while back I read a study that said up to 93 percent of communication is nonverbal. It got me thinking about the ways men and women communicate and from that came the following tanka.

when the TV is on
you listen intently
to what it has to say
I ask if we can talk—

you turn the volume up

she stands by the pool
showing off long slender legs
in string bikini…

when your stare drops to my thighs
I pretend not to notice

in this king-sized bed
you sleep facing north, I face south
the void between us
proof opposites don’t attract
you need your space, I need mine

Poetry Friday

2009-03-05T15:46:00.000-08:00

One of my favorite love poems is by Nikki Giovanni.

The World Is Not A Pleasant Place to Be

the world is not a pleasant place
to be without
someone to hold and be held by

a river would stop
its flow if only
a stream were there
to recieve it

an ocean would never laugh
if clouds weren't there
to kiss her tears

Read the rest of the poem here.
Read more about Nikki Giovanni here.

Poetry Friday: Thinking About Poetry

2009-02-19T17:01:00.000-08:00

One of my goals this year was to read more poetry written for adults. I finished Jane Kenyon's Constance today. What I liked most about this collection is that I connected with the poems about losing loved ones. There were also many poems about her depression. I've been there many times so I could feel her words.

I'm also a little concerned that I didn't "get" some of the poems. That happens to me sometimes.
Maybe my mind isn't deep enough to understand. It always reminds me of how it was in school. I never seemed to get the meaning right, at least not the meaning the teacher/professor said was right. I guess I'm not someone who likes to pick a poem apart and try to analyze it like it's some scientific theory that needs to be debated and proven.

I never thought I actually liked poetry until I became a mother and teacher. That's when I first met Langston Hughes, Lucille Clifton, Gary Soto, and all the poets I've come to love (too many to name here).

As I write this post, I realize that I love music (county, rock, pop, soul, etc.), but I don't like every song I hear on the radio. So maybe it's okay if I don't get or even like every poem. Maybe it's more important that I have found poems that I love and carry with me.

One of my favorite poems from Constance is also the title of the final collection Jane worked on before her death, Otherwise. It reminds me to enjoy and appreciate what we have because nothing is forever.

Otherwise

I got out of bed
on two strong legs.
It might have been
otherwise. I ate
cereal, sweet
milk, ripe, flawless
peach. It might
have been otherwise.
I took the dog uphill
to the birch wood.
All morning I did
the work I love.

Read the rest of the poem here.

POETRY FRIDAY

2009-02-12T16:34:00.000-08:00

Over at Miss Rumphius Effect , the Poetry Stretch this week was to write a love poem. My mother has been on mind so much recently. Her battle with cancer goes on, but she's beginnng to give up. Although she'll never see this poem, I hope she feels the love behind it.

Thinking About Her Life

Alone in her tiny apartment
she sits at the kitchen table,
stirring a cup of cold coffee—
daylight slowly fades.

Her friends are gone.
Beloved husband gone.
Children grown, gone.
Her soft dark hair— gone.

I visit on Saturdays,
we talk of the past
we talk of the present,
avoiding the future—

She says she’s afraid.
I’m afraid too—
but I don’t tell her
I can’t, not yet.

Instead I take her hand,
like she once took mine
helping me cross a busy street—
Now I must help her cross
over this wake of tears.

She looks to me for hope,
and I give it to her, a last gift
wrapped in a smile, a hug,
and a prayer
for my mother—

soon gone.

Poetry Friday

2009-02-05T19:20:00.000-08:00

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 song calls out to the blackbirds
while his fingers fly across the banjo
sweetening the air
with 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 in 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 an old banjo and some blackbirds
replenish the air with music
as I sing, still, for Grandpa.

Poetry Friday

2009-01-29T14:00:00.000-08:00

The Wise Woman and Her Secret

Schools were closed for two days this week due to snow and ice. I love these days because everything slows down. With the hectic schedules we all keep, it's a gift to have time to sit, look out the window and enjoy the view.

The brilliant poet, Eve Merriam, knew how important it is to take time to look closely at the world around us. In her book, The Wise Woman and Her Secret, she teaches us to do just that.

The story tells about a woman who was so wise, people from many villages to learn her secret. They believed that if the woman would reveal the secret of her wisdom, they would gain great fortunes. But, the wise woman tells them they must discover it for themselves. They begin their search but to no avail.

Little Jenny lags behind picking up pebbles, gazing at a spiderweb, and examining a tarnished penny. The others have no time for such things as they frantically continue their search. Only Jenny will find the wise woman's secret.

Eve Merriam's use of sensory language and literary elements (alliteration, simile, repetition, etc.) makes this book a great choice for teachers who use picture books to teach writing. There are so many wonderful images, a few of my favorite images include:
"Her eyes were bright as blackberries..."

"...dark hair that was streaked with white like patches of snow on the muddy spring ground."

"...they climbed and they clambered..."

"branches flowering and floating in summer..."

Linda Graves' enchanting illustrations paired with Eve Merriman's wonderful story makes Wise Woman and Her Secret a book readers of all ages will enjoy.

Street Love: A Review

2009-01-19T16:00:00.000-08:00

Street Love is an emotion-packed YA novel. One of the main characters, Damien seems to have it made. He makes good grades, has avoided the lure of joining a gang, and has been accepted to Brown University. His parents have high hopes for his future.

Junice isn't so lucky. Her mother has just been sent to prision for drug possession, and her father has been out of the picture for a long time. Junice is worried that she and her little sister, Melissa, will be separated by the system. She is determined to break free from the world of her mother and grandmother.

Damien finds Junice irresistible. She is unlike anyone he has ever known. Junice is much more guarded with her heart, but eventually allows herself to fall in love. Their love must overcome seemingly impossible obstacles, and each one of them will have to make sacrifices if they are to have a life together.

The story is left open-ended. Will their love survive, or will Damien and Junice have a change of heart?

Steet Love has a very Shakespearean feel about it. In an essay about the novel, Myers said he originally wrote the entire novel in iambic pentameter and later added some rap elements to emulate adolescent street language. One thing I especially liked was the way each character's distintive voice came through. Damien's intelligence is shown in his use of Latin phrases; his friend Kevin speaks in more of a rap. Junice's voice is tough and street-wise.

My favorite verse is spoken by Ruby, Junice's grandmother who floats in and out of reality. Life hasn't been easy for Ruby. Hers' is the voice of the blues. Here's an excerpt

Ruby Ambers

Yeah, it's hard. baby
It's hard right down to the bone,
I said, Oh, it's hard baby
It's right down to the very bone
It's hard when you're a woman
and you find yourself all alone
I've been flapping and scrapping
And running from door to door
You know I've been flapping and scrapping, honey
Running from door to door
I ain't what I used to be, ain't really Miss Ruby
anymore

I recommend Street Love for high school and up.

Poetry Friday: Two Great Reads

2009-01-16T00:01:00.000-08:00

Grow: A Novel in Verse

The events are told from twelve year old Kate's point of view, but Berneetha's determination to turn a vacant city lot into a community garden drives the plot.

One spring morning, Berneetha arrives at Kate’s house “looking like the Fourth of July” with her blue bandana, red hair, and white T-shirt. She is a big woman with a big dream.

Everyone thinks Berneetha is just a crazy lady with a purple house and thirteen cats. Even Kate isn’t convinced the garden is a good idea, but she loves Berneetha and agrees to help. Then Harlan, “a Gangsta wannabe” decides to join them. Each day, people pass by and watch as two misfit kids and an eccentric middle-aged lady work together to grow something beautiful. As the garden grows, so does Kate.

“I read that weeds
can be anything,
even beautiful flowers,
or beans growing in cornfields.
A weed is anything growing
where you don’t want it to grow.”

I enjoyed reading this quiet little book. The plot is predictable, but the lively characterization, poetic language, strong voice, and emotional twists make it a worthy read.

This would be an excellent book for teaching students to write a character sketch.
Although Berneetha is the most developed character, Kate and Harlan are dynamic characters students can relate to.

GROW by Juanita Havill is a quick read that I recommend for upper elementary students through adult.

Pizza, Pigs, and Poetry

As a writing teacher, I can’t tell you how many times I’ve heard my students say,” I don’t know what to write about.” Thanks to Jack Prelutsky’s new book, Pizza, Pigs, and Poetry, I have an answer.

If you haven’t read this book, you’re really missing out. Jack takes readers inside his head and shows how he uses ordinary, everyday experiences to create his poems. I loved reading his personal narratives about: his mother’s awful singing, the day he tacked his father’s underwear to the wall, finding a rat under his table at a restaurant, and many other hilarious experiences he has used to spark poems.

Another feature I like in the book, is that Jack explains how he often writes about the same topics (pigs, pizza, etc.) again and again. Many young writers feel that once they’ve written about a topic, they’re finished with it. Jack shows kids that many poems (or stories) can be written about the same topic.

Like Jack’s poetry, this book is light and fun. I plan to use it in my classroom to help kids discover that they really do have lots of good ideas waiting to be written.

Poetry Friday

2009-01-09T00:01:00.000-08:00

We have been having a wintery mix here today. I stood outside looking at icicles hanging from the tree limbs, and there almost hidden among the branches was a tiny nest, empty and silent. Although the trees looked beautiful, I couldn't help wishing for spring.

this empty gray nest
once home to the sparrows' song
silently sleeps
cradled in winter's branches
awaits the music of spring

The Passing of the Year

2009-01-02T00:05:00.000-08:00

I read poetry written for children every day. I want to read more poems aimed at an adult audience so I decided to make it one of my goals this year.

Until recently, the only Robert Service poem I knew was The Cremation of Sam McGee. As I searched for a poem for today's Poetry Friday, I found this one. I'm glad I did because it led me to read other fine poems by Service.

Do you see anyone you know in this poem?

The Passing of the Year
by Robert W. Service

My glass is filled, my pipe is lit,
My den is all a cosy glow;
And snug before the fire I sit,
And wait to feel the old year go.
I dedicate to solemn thought
Amid my too-unthinking days,
This sober moment, sadly fraught
With much of blame, with little praise.

Old Year! upon the Stage of Time
You stand to bow your last adieu;
A moment, and the prompter's chime
Will ring the curtain down on you.
Your mien is sad, your step is slow;
You falter as a Sage in pain;
Yet turn, Old Year, before you go,
And face your audience again.

That sphinx-like face, remote, austere,
Let us all read, whate'er the cost:
O Maiden! why that bitter tear?
Is it for dear one you have lost?
Is it for fond illusion gone?
For trusted lover proved untrue?
O sweet girl-face, so sad, so wan
What hath the Old Year meant to you?

And you, O neighbour on my right
So sleek, so prosperously clad!
What see you in that aged wight
That makes your smile so gay and glad?
What opportunity unmissed?
What golden gain, what pride of place?
What splendid hope? O Optimist!
What read you in that withered face?

And You, deep shrinking in the gloom,
What find you in that filmy gaze?
What menace of a tragic doom?
What dark, condemning yesterdays?
What urge to crime, what evil done?
What cold, confronting shape of fear?
O haggard, haunted, hidden One
What see you in the dying year?

Read the rest of the poem here.

Explore. Dream. Discover.

2009-01-01T10:17:00.000-08:00

Tomorrow is my birthday. Having a birthday at the same time a new year begins has its advantages. It's the perfect time to reflect on who I am and what I want my life to be. I'm not much of a risk taker, and change doesn't come easy for me. But life is all about change, and we have to take risks in order to stretch and grow. So as I hang the new calendar, make a wish and blow out the candles, I'm ready for another chance to do better than I did the year before. Another chance to find a balance between the things I must do and the things I dream of doing.

“Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things that you didn't do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover.” -Mark Twain

Poetry Friday: Christmas Surprise

2008-12-18T16:23:00.000-08:00

I'm sharing this rough draft of a poem-in-progress today because I think many of you fellow cat lovers can relate. I'm not happy with the first stanza so any suggestions are welcome. : )

Christmas Surprise

She didn't write a letter

she didn't make a list—
but that sneaky cat of mine

had a secret Christmas wish.

She curled herself up cozy
beneath the tinseled tree
waiting there for Santa
and presents brought for me.

When I woke up this morning
ready for a surprise—
it wasn't what I expected
I couldn't believe my eyes.

The bows were all chewed
ribbons torn and tattered
boxes emptied on the floor—
paper ripped and scattered.

Unashamed of what she'd done
I heard her start to purr—
I guess that silly cat believed
the gifts were meant for her.

May the season bring you

many delightful surprises!

Happy Holidays,

Linda

Lee Bennett Hopkins and the NCTE Poetry Award

2008-12-12T15:11:00.000-08:00

As many of you know, Lee Bennett Hopkins has been named the newest recipient of the NCTE Award for Excellence in Children’s Poetry. I can’t think of anyone more deserving of this award.

Ten years have passed since Lee published three of my poems in his Worlds of Poetry series. I'd used his anthologies in my classroom for many years but never expected to see my name in one of them.

I had sent Lee a poem called “Stars” that I wrote about my two sons. He wrote back to me saying he would hold on to it until he found a collection where it fit. I thought he was just being kind, and didn’t think I’d ever hear from him again.

A few months later, the phone rang and I heard, “Hi, Linda, this is Lee Bennett Hopkins.” I couldn’t believe my ears! Lee Bennett Hopkins was calling me to ask if he could use my poem in his new collection. He said, “See, I told you I believed in that poem and would find a place for it.” I can’t remember much more of our conversation, but I’ll never forget how thrilled I was. As soon as I got off the phone, I ran to tell my sons, then I called everyone else I knew to tell them the news. I was going to be a published poet!

It was almost a year before the series was published, and I got my first look at the books. Lee had included not one, but three of my poems. My name was in the same book as some of my favorite poets: J Patrick Lewis, Rebecca Kai Dotlich, Jane Yolen, Lee Bennett Hopkins, among others. It was a dream come true!

But Lee had more surprises in store for me. Not only did he include my poems; he recommended me to speak at a teacher's conference in Long Island. I can't begin to describe that experience other than to say, I was treated like a celebrity. Thanks to Lee, I got to live the dream of being a guest poet for a day.

I finally got to meet Lee a few years ago. He greeted me with the warmth of a dear friend. He has a way of making you feel like the most special person on the planet. Once again, I was overwhelmed by the experience.

Over the years, there have been many times when I've stopped sending poems out because I didn’t believe in myself. Just about the time I’m ready to give up, an email or letter arrives from Lee with a call for poems for a new collection. I don't know how he does it, but he always seems to know when I need a boost to get going again.

I've been blessed to have poems in several of Lee's anthologies. There is nothing more exciting than the arrival of a new collection that I've contributed to. Seeing one of my poems in Lee’s books gives me hope that someday, if I work hard enough, I might have a collection of my own published. His encouragement and support has changed me as a writer. Knowing he believes in me, inspires me to write the best poems I can write.

Lee Bennett Hopkins has brought poetry into the lives of children and classroom teachers. He has given countless aspiring poets a chance to see their work published, and his generosity of spirit goes beyond words.

So, if you’re reading this Lee, congratulations for a job well done and a life well-lived.

Choka

2008-11-20T16:07:00.000-08:00

It's no secret that I love Japanese poetry forms. While tanka, haiku and renga have gained popularity in recent years, choka is relatively unknown. A choka is structured in the repeated pattern of 5-7-5-7-5-7-5......7-7. Many choka are more than 100 lines long. You can read more about the choka form here.

Here is my attempt at a choka.

calico kitten
in the woods behind our house
hungry, shivering—

bone thin, barely alive—

afraid she might die

I wrapped her in my jacket
carried her inside
gave her warm milk, my blanket
and a promise— to love her.

Although I tried to stick fairly close to the pattern in order to model the form for my students, I'm not happy with the last two lines. Following a structure too closely can detract from the meaning of the poem. I can't think of how I want to revise it right now, , so I'll let it rest a while.

photo: KatRya flickr.com

Rock 'N' Roll Band

2008-11-13T08:57:00.000-08:00

This is a fantastic poem to use for choral reading. When I taught elementary school, my students loved to wear wigs and tie die T-shirts and perform "Rock 'N' Roll Band" for their classmates. This poem is from Poems That Sing to You by Michael R. Strickland. Altough it was published by Boyd's Mill Press in 1993, it's still available through Amazon.

Poems That Sing to You is filled with great poems to teach poetic elements like Karla Kuskin's "Lewis Has a Trumpet." This is poem is so much fun to read aloud. It actually sounds like a trumpet when you read it. This collection would be a valued addition to any reading/language arts teacher's library.

ROCK 'N' ROLL BAND
If we were a rock 'n' roll band,
We'd travel all over the land.
We'd play and we'd sing and wear spangly things.
If we were a rock 'n' roll band.

If we were a rock 'n' roll band,
And we were up there on the stand,
The people would here us and love us and cheer us.
Hurray for that rock 'n' roll band.

If we were a rock 'n' roll band,
Then we'd have a million fans.
We'd giggle and laugh and sign autographs,
If we were a rock 'n' roll band.

If we were a rock 'n' roll band.
The people would all kiss our hands.
We'd be millionaires and have extra long hair,
If we were a rock 'n' roll band.

You can read the rest here.
This page has several of Silverstein's poems so you'll need to scroll down to the third poem.

Two Tanka

2008-11-06T16:29:00.000-08:00

I live in an area where deer are plentiful. I love watching them. In spring and summer, does bring their fawns to graze in the backyard and eat from the cherry tree. In autumn, they run down my driveway and hide in twilight shadows. They come to dine on crabapples in winter. They are so tame, they come right up to my front door and watch me watching them through the window.

Here are two of the many tanka they've inspired.

crackle of dry leaves
in the shadows of twilight
still as a statue
a deer looks into my eyes
then suddenly— gone

hoping from limb to limb
fat robins quarrel
over crabapples—

deer wait patiently below
for fallen leftovers

Unfinished

2008-11-02T13:46:00.000-08:00

Last night I used my extra "fall back" hour organizing the area where I keep all of my writing materials. I love collecting notebooks and have tons of them. People give them to me as gifts, and I can't resist buying them. Here's the problem, every time I get a new one, I fill a few pages and then move on to another. I have over a dozen partially filled notebooks that rotate through. I write in one for a while then move on to another one. I never seem to stay with one until it's filled up.

It's the same way with my writing projects. I have 3 or 4 poetry collections, two picture books, several essays, and a nonfiction series all in various stages. I dive into a project full of enthusiasm, then read something that tells me how "only 3 in 12,000 books submitted ever get published," and I give up. Since there are no deadlines and no one waiting to read what I've written, what does it matter if I don't finish? A critique group might help, but I haven't been able to find a group who write for children in my area. I'm not sure if I'm ready to share with a group online.

I used to think that maybe I didn't really want to write, and that was why I never finished. But, if I don't like to write, how'd I end up with a file full of poems and essays?

Last night as I read through my notebooks, I discovered many entries showed a lack of self-confidence. Even in journals I wrote twenty years ago, the same issues kept coming up: my failure to stick to a fitness program, to "fix" my personal life, and to accomplish my writing goals...unfinished projects. Only a few entries described my successes. I've had an early reader, twenty or so poems, a few essays, articles and book reviews published, but I don't write about those because I have convinced myself that it had to be due to luck, not my writing skills.

It occured to me that maybe I don't finish things because if I never finish, I won't have to worry about failing.

Do we all doubt ourselves, or are writers more susceptible because of constant rejection? I heard prolific songwriter, David Foster say that sometimes questioned his writing ability and worried that maybe he was a fraud. I was surprised by his confession because how can he not know how gifted he is? Everyone from Whitney Houston to Earth, Wind and Fire have performed his songs!

I guess another piece of my unfinished pie is that there is so much conflicting advice out there.
Eileen Spinelli wrote this about writing, "How can you love the work if you're already a mile down the road worrying about whether it's going to be published? The publication will take care of itself. I hate to see writers just cringing and skipping ahead, and worrying about publication."
That sounds wonderful, write what you love. Will this work if you want to make a living as a writer?

But another very accomplished writer told me, "Professional writers get a contract then write the book." To me this means treat writing like a business and don't focus so much on what you love to write. I'm not sure I'd like that.

There has to be a balance of both "writing for a paycheck and writing what you love." Some writers, like Laura Salas has certainly been able to do it.

Back to "unfinished" business, how do you keep yourself motivated to finish a project? Do you get a contract first and then have a deadline to motivate you? Do you have someone who keeps you accountable, or have you found a way to do that for yourself? I'd really love to hear from you. A new year is coming, and I want to make a resolution to finish what I start.

Ghost Villanelle

2008-10-30T05:26:00.000-07:00

A poem to celebrate Halloween by Iowa poet Dan Lechay.

Ghost Villanelle

We never saw the ghost, though he was there--
we knew from the raindrops tapping on the eaves.
We never saw him, and we didn't care.

Each day, new sunshine tumbled through the air;
evenings, the moonlight rustled in dark leaves.
We never saw the ghost, though: he was there,

if ever, when the wind tousled our hair
and prickled goosebumps up and down thin sleeves;
we never saw him. And we didn't care

to step outside our room at night, or dare
click off the nightlight: call it fear of thieves.
We never saw the ghost, though he was there

in sunlit dustmotes drifting anywhere,
in light-and-shadow, such as the moon weaves.
We never saw him, though, and didn't care,

until at last we saw him everywhere.
We told nobody. Everyone believes
we never saw the ghost (if he was there),
we never saw him and we didn't care.

Renga Challenge

2008-10-16T10:51:00.000-07:00

The renga challenge didn't go so well. Oh well, I know everyone is very busy at this time of year. Thanks to cloudscome http://awrungsponge.blogspot.com/ for her two line stanza. There's still time if you want to play. The next person will write a 3-line stanza, the next 2 lines, and so on. Here's what we have so far. I can't wait to see what you will add!

crowded pumpkin patch
empty by mid-afternoon
autumn gone too soon

Earth's children all possess
thier own round orange space

Come Renga With Me!

2008-10-09T12:03:00.000-07:00

In the introduction of their new book, Birds on a Wire, J Patrick Lewis and Paul Janeczko (see last week's post) invite readers to "get together with a couple of your friends and see if you can create a renga of your own." Sounds like fun, doesn't it? I'm going to try the activity with my eighth graders, but I'd like them to have an example of a renga in progress.

Here's where you come in. It would be great fun if you could help me create a Poetry Friday Renga to show them. Here's how it works, I have written three lines about an experience I had last Saturday. The next person writes two lines, the next writes three, etc. Don't worry too much about strictly sticking to the rules of a renga. For me, poetry is more about getting your meaning across rather than being boxed in by too many rules. For example, my "starter" lines rhyme, most renga don't rhyme, but I kind of like the sound and couldn't think of anything I like as much so I'm going with it.

Here's a website I've found helpful in case you want to learn more about renga or other Japanese poetry forms: http://www.ahapoetry.com/r_info.htm.

Let's keep it going until next Thursday, that way my students can watch as new entries are made, and I'll post the complete poem for our next Poetry Friday. What do you think? Will you come renga with me?

crowded pumpkin patch
empty by mid afternoon
autumn gone too soon
http://www.irvingisd.net/

secret-agent-josephine.com

J Patrick Lewis

2008-10-02T14:11:00.000-07:00

It's been almost twenty years since I bought a book of poetry by J Patrick Lewis called, Earth Verses and Water Rhymes. My students loved those poems. It instantly became one of the most popular books to read during D.E.A.R. time. I bought a second copy so that I'd have one for my personal collection.

Over the years I've added many of J Patrick Lewis' books to my collection including his latest, which I absolutely love, Birds on a Wire: A Renga 'Round Town written with the great Paul Janeczko.

You can imagine my excitement when I received an email from J Patrick Lewis! J Patrick Lewis! Wow!

The first thing I did was to print out that email for my memory book!

When I told Pat (I'm not sure I should be referring to someone so esteemed by his first name.) that my students are currently studying narrative poetry, he generously offered me one of his wonderful poems to share with my students and on my blog. The poem has appeared in several anthologies. After reading it, you'll see why it's been so popular.

Stories

Circling by the fire,
My dog, my rough champion,
Coaxes winter out of her fur.
She hears old stories
Leaping in the flames:
The hissing names of cats,
Neighbors' dogs snapping
Like these gone logs,
The cracking of ice . . .
Once, romping through the park,
We dared the creaking pond.
It took the dare and half
Of me into the dark below.
She never let go.

We watch orange tongues
Wagging in the fire
Hush to blue whispers.
Her tail buffs my shoe.
She has one winter left.

Maybe two.

If haven't visitied J Patrick Lewis' website, http://www.jpatricklewis.com/ , you really should take a look at the terrific resources for kids, teachers and writers.

Autumn Cinquain

2008-09-24T09:10:00.000-07:00

I drive to work on a road lined on each side with cornfields . Yesterday, as I sat at a stop sign waiting my turn, I noticed a couple of deer standing in the cornfield to my left watching the cars go by. They stood very still and seemed to be in deep thought. I starting wondering what they were thinking. Where they just curious about the cars? Were they waiting at the stop sign for their turn to cross the road? Were they angry about the traffic cutting through their cornfield?

This little poem snapshot was inspired by them.

Contemplation

Two deer
in the cornfield
peek out between brown stalks.
Are they hoping to cross the road
safely?

Almost Forever

2008-09-04T08:48:00.000-07:00

I love books written in verse form and so do many of my students. I just finished reading Almost Forever by Maria Testa (http://mariatesta.com/), author of the award-winning novel Becoming Joe Dimaggio.

Almost Forever is a brief novel written in the voice of a young girl whose father is sent to Vietnam to serve as a military doctor for a year.

Although the girl worries about her father’s safety, she also worries that she might forget him. In this excerpt the girl explains that year is a long time for a child (something we adults often forget).

From “One Year (Not Such a Long Time)”

One year
is not
such a long time,

Daddy said,
kneeling on one knee
in front of me,
squeezing
my shoulders.

In one year, Baby,
you’ll be in
second grade,
not first
and you’ll be
seven years old,
not six,
and then
I’ll be home.
One year
is not
such a long time.

I did not
tell Daddy
that he was wrong—
that second grade
was half a hallway
and a whole world
away from first,
that seven
was everything
six was not,
and that one year
was forever.

Everyday the girl goes with her mother and younger brother to the post office to get the letters from Vietnam. When the letters suddenly stop coming, the family fears the worst.

I teach near an army base. Several of my students have a parent in the military. Some of them have a parent stationed outside of the country. I think they will see themselves through the eyes of the main character and be able to relate to her emotions and experiences. My hope is that Almost Forever will also inspire them to keep a journal to record their own experiences while their parent is away.

Fond Memory

2008-08-08T09:40:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, the mailman delivered two poems my mother wrote many years ago. I had forgotten how beautifully she expressed her love for her father in each tiny package of a poem.

Now that Mom is very ill, she asked what I'd like to have to remember her by. I knew immediately that those two poems were what I wanted most. I hadn't seen them in years, but as I read each one, memories of her reciting them to us came flooding back. She told me that she loved her father so deeply, she wanted to give a special gift to him, and her poems were all she had.

My grandfather cried when he read "Daddy's Girl." My mother knew he was proud of her when he asked for the poem to be read at his funeral. The second poem, "Angel" was written after her father passed.

As I remember, Mom only finished those two poems. She was always so busy with children and housework; there was little time for writing. I posted a poem I wrote about her last Mother's Day.

She sent "Daddy's Girl" out to a publisher once. When it was rejected, she was sure no one would want to read anything she wrote and gave up on her dream of seeing the poem in print.

I think she always meant to write more; time just got away from her. I wish she had written more. My fondest memory of her won't be one of her cleaning the house. It's the image of her sitting at the kitchen table putting so much of her heart into every line of those special little poems that I'll remember.

(I didn't print her poems here, because I'm hoping to find a publisher who will love them as much as I do.)

Once I Ate a Pie

2008-07-31T15:56:00.000-07:00

Have you seen the new show The Greatest American Dog? When I first saw it advertised, being a cat person, I didn't plan on watching it. The TV was on that channel when I turned it on, and after a few minutes, I was hooked. Each dog on the show has its own distinct personality. Seeing the show reminded me of a collection of poems on my bookshelf, "Once I Ate a Pie."

The collection of mask poems is written by Newberry winner Patricia MacLachlan and her daughter, Emily MacLachlan Charest and beautifully illustrated by Katy Schneider. I've been a fan of Patricia MacLachlan for years and have many of her books. I knew the poems would be wonderful, and they are. The voice of each dog comes through as they tell their story in just a few short lines. Lucy is adopted and has claimed everything in her new home to be hers. Darla doesn't like other dogs, but she likes people and even the cat. Mr. Beefy steals tubs of butter off the table when no one is looking and says, "Once I ate a pie."

One cool thing about the poems is that not only do they remind me of dogs I've known, but they lovingly remind me of people I've known. I sure can relate to Mr. Beefy enjoying pigging out with a pie!

I'm glad I took a chance and watched "The Greatest American Dog" because of it, I rediscovered the poems in "Once I Ate a Pie."

Summer So Far...

2008-07-21T14:17:00.000-07:00

The summer is quickly slipping away, and soon it will be back to school. I haven't accomplished nearly as much writing as I'd hoped to. There's always so much to do, and taking time to write just because I love to, seems like an indulgence.

My entire adult life, I've felt that a woman was successful if she could work a full-time job while raising happy, healthy kids, keeping a spotless house and homebaked goods on the shelf. Once, my mother said, "Your floor is so clean, I could eat off of it." Wow! Her comment made me feel like I had made it as a "good" wife and mother.

Now that my mother is ill, I've been wondering about what she might regret. She always worked so hard to keep her home clean. She worried about what others thought if it wasn't perfect. She enjoyed writing poems, but it took a backseat to housework. Cleaning was important to her, but it didn't bring her joy. Mention her poems, especially the one she wrote about her dad, and her eyes light up. Besides her children, her poems are her pride and joy. She asked me what of her belongings I want to remember her. The only thing I really want is her poems.

What will I regret? I doubt I'll regret not constantly having a sparkling floor. No one else really seems to care or notice anyway. I'm sure I will regret not doing more writing.

One thing I have done is to send introductory packets to several education publishers hoping to get an assignment. For some reason, it's much easier to justify spending time writing when there's a deadline an editor is expecting me to meet.

I've been working all summer writing curriculum, learning a new program for the upcoming school year, and getting household chores done. Now it's my time to write.

Mother's Day Triplet

2008-05-08T15:01:00.000-07:00

I enjoy the challenge of trying new poetry forms. According to the text Strong Measures by Philip Dacey, a triplet is "a three line stanza or poem rhyming aaa. Here's my attempt at writing a triplet in honor of Mother's Day.

A Vow

staring out the window it seems
my mother is lost somewhere between
us and her own private dreams

she once told me she’d like to see
Africa where lions live uncaged— free
just the way they were meant to be

and she wants to write a book someday
but she’s just too busy to start it today
with kids to raise and bills to pay—

sometimes I think she secretly wishes
for freedom from housework, diapers, dishes
always the giver of bedtime kisses—

suddenly seeing me standing there,
she calls me over to her chair—
and points to a piece of sky where

the Evening Star waits with a vow— anything
is possible— her loving smile says everything
as she begins to sing—

copyright2008 Linda Kulp

Now it's your turn to try a triplet. Leave me a comment and I'll post your triplet next week. I can't wait to see what you come up with!

Food Inspired Poetry

2008-05-01T15:29:00.000-07:00

The Miss Rumphius Effect Monday Poetry Stretch this week was to write a food inspired poem.
I had planned to write a brand new poem, but it's interim time at school. My students have been keeping me very busy grading late assignments. (All of you teachers out there know what I'm talking about.) So I'm posting a poem inspired by my sons that I wrote a while back. I welcome your comments and suggestions for improvement.

The first poem is from Yummy, Eating Through a Day, edited by Lee Bennett Hopkins.

Table Manners

No burping
No slurping
No giggling
No wiggling
No hitting
No spitting
No jabbing
No grabbing
No groaning
No moaning
No kicking
No picking
or sticking
your food
on the floor.

Table manners
making eating a bore!

copyright 2000 Linda Kulp

Ants on a Log

My son spreads peanut butter thick
on crisp green celery sticks and grins—
slides the spoon to his mouth and licks

it clean— then carefully begins
sticking raisins in a neat row
into the creamy bark and chins

the counter top on tippytoe
looking for the perfect platter
to canvas his creation— his eyes glow

and tiny giggles scatter
as he samples one log, two—
knowing his efforts will matter,

then turns to me with pride brand new
and says, “Mommy, I saved the best— for you!”

copyright 2001 Linda Kulp

For more food poems written by some of today's most popular poets (including: J. Patrick Lewis, Bobbi Katz, Pat Mora, and Lee Bennett Hopkins) check out: food fight edited by Michael J. Rosen. Here are a few lines from my favorite poem, "Pineapple Upside Down Cake" by Nikki Grimes.

Grandma wasn't much for hugging.
She was entirely too frail
to give me piggyback rides
and moved too slow for hide-and seek.

The poem continues by describing the "honey-glazed pineapple rings, tooth-tingling tangy sweetness." After reading the poem to my students, I surprise them with a sample of my own homemade pineapple upside down cake. The combination of poem and cake is a delicious way to model using sensory language!

Review of Dogku

2008-04-27T08:08:00.000-07:00

While browsing the picture book shelves at my local Borders, I came across a little book of haiku called Dogku by Andrew Clements. The haiku tell the story of a little dog, Mooch, who wants a permanent home. Here's an example:

Squirrel sits in tree.

Mooch sits below, looking up.

Who has more patience?

Copyright2008 Andrew Clements

I can just imagine the fun young children would have with this book. The warmth of the poems and expressive illustrations make the reader fall instantly in love with Mooch. I know it will inspire older students to write their own haiku stories.

I especially like the Author's Note at the end of the book where Mr. Clements explains what a haiku is and encourages kids to write their own. He compares writing haiku to choosing a small vase, a small container to place the perfect words to express what you most want to say. What a great way to think about haiku or any poetry.

After reading Mooch's story, I decided to try writing a dog haiku (dogku). I started thinking about friend who volunteers at an animal shelter telling me that older dogs are rarely adopted. This is what came to mind:

on adoption day
puppies beg, “Pick me, pick me!”
hoping- a new home

on adoption day
old dogs lay silent, sleeping
this their final home

Read more about Andrew Clements and his over fifty books for children: http://www.andrewclements.com/

Interview With Bobbi Katz

2008-04-23T15:22:00.000-07:00

Bobbi Katz is the author of numerous books of poetry and professional books for teachers. Her collection of American history poems, We the People, was named an ALA Booklist Top Ten Poetry Pick. A prolific and versatile writer, her poems are widely
anthologized.

I met Bobbi about twelve years ago at a state reading conference. I was a big fan of her poetry and had used many of her poems in my elementary classroom. So naturally, I was thrilled when she graciously agreed to an interview with me. Recently, I contacted her to update the interview for National Poetry Month.

Linda: How did listening to jazz as a child influence your writing?

Bobbi: I think my love of rhythm and rhyme came from the delight I had as a very young child, certainly pre-K, to the syncopation and delightful lyrics of Fats Waller tunes. Opportunities for hearing music weren't frequent, but perhaps in an era before sensory overload was the rule hearing a song had a greater impact than it would now. I remember the delicious taste of words I didn't properly understand. I remember making those words my playmates.

Linda: How did you get started as a children's poet?

Bobbi: I started writing rhyming funny, quizzical verse for a friend's child, who simply was not "getting" reading. Suddenly things clicked! I totally lost touch with him when his family moved across the country soon after that. He came to visit me years later, when he had finished medical school at Stanford University.

Linda: When young writers say they have trouble finding topics to write about, what advice do you give them?

Bobbi: Ideas are everywhere, if we slow down enough to observe the world around us and within us. What am I seeing, hearing, feeling?

Linda: Do you keep a journal?

Bobbi: Yes. I think journal-keeping is one of the best things anyone can do! It's a great help for someone who wants to write, of course. I don't have any rules about what enters my journal. Sometimes there's an idea for a poem or essay & sometimes, especially now when my memory is less than wonderful, it's a place to jot down an appealing new word or the name of someone whose work I'd like to read or see/hear. A journal is a place for resting, for placing one's feelings. It can be very therapeutic.
.

Linda: What are some of your upcoming poetry projects?

Bobbi: I have three books coming out in 2009: THE MONSTEROLOGIST: A MEMOIR IN RHYME. An anthology of poems by various poets, including me titled MORE POCKET POEMS, and finally NOTHING BUT A DOG. The last title is actually a reissue of a picture book about my own daughter's yearning for a dog that was published by the Feminist Press in the 1970's. Dutton is having the text re-illustrated. The editorial assistant who computerized the text wondered what made it a feminist book. My daughter was an active girl, who played the trumpet, rode a bike, went fishing, climbed trees and did things that most publishers weren't comfortable having a girl do. Things have definitely changed!

Linda: Do you always write poetry?

Bobbi: While, I've been accumulating poems on three different subjects that are very content-research oriented, plus other poems that just say "Write me!" I have been wanting to write another biography rather than commit to an extensive collection of poems. I've been exploring several interesting people but the chemistry hasn't been right. I just did a reading from Trailblazers:Poems of Exploration. It goes from Adam and Eve to the Mars (robotic) Rovers, with well over 60 less mythic personalities in between. As with We the People, all of the poems are written in the first person. I tried to learn a lot about the explorers and the people with whom they interacted. I read journals, letters, and primary sources, whenever possible, so that each poem would have a distinctive voice or voices. To create the sense of individuality for the reading, I invited an adult man and a teenage boy and girl to read with me and I created a matrix of connecting material. I read one poem and suddenly I knew that I'd simply love to write about that person. Maybe it was the energy of reading for an audience that gave me that clear knowing. I don't think anyone has written more than a few paragraphs about her! And I know from experience that if I talk about it, the book won't get written!

Linda: I've used your teacher resource poetry books (Poems Just for Us, American History Poems, etc. for many years in my classroom. Do publishers assign you the topics, or do you write a proposal?

Bobbi: Most of the time, I write for Scholastic Professional Books. My editor asks me to write about a particular topic, but often the publisher knows my interests. I'm a grammar grouch, and so it was logical to ask me to write 25 Great Grammar Poems. I often write poems for more than one voice. My current book is Partner Poems for Building Fluency.

Linda: What advice can you give someone like me who dreams of having a collection of her own published someday?

Bobbi: Write, write, write, as often as you can. I am a great believer in letting poems marinate. I print them out and put them on a corkboard. And revise. And revise. Because getting published is so very difficult, try to write about what delights you, what interests you, what pleases your ear and tickles your tongue. When you've written a bunch of poems, see if a subject or an audience is emerging from them. Whom do you expect to hear or read your poems? Does a particular publisher seem open to poetry? Alas, the reality is that many publishers aren't accepting unagented manuscripts these days; however, some certainly are! The most important thing to remember is the joy of writing: the pleasure of the craft. That way no matter what happens as far as commercial publication; you'll have gained something very important. I used to turn my nose up at the idea of self-publishing. Although I've never done it, I think it's not such a bad idea. With illustrated books, an unfortunate choice of illustrator can knock the words right off the page. I've seen some writers for adults make a success of books they've paid to have published. If your dream is to write for kids, however, I think that the Society of of Children'sBook Writers and Illustrators (SCBWI) can be very helpful. Try to get to one of their meetings in your state. It's a way to get feedback on your work & to meet editors as well.

Linda: Tell us a little about your writing day.

Bobbi: I usually start my day by doing yoga for a half an hour or more, which I started doing once a week as exercise about 25 years ago. It's become a great centering tool for me. Then I have a cup of tea and write for a few hours on my laptop. Sometimes the few hours stretch into more than that and I don't stop until I get a headache and realize I haven't eaten. After a hardy brunch/breakfast, I'll do a few chores; take a shower, or something to rest my eyes. If I'm doing a project that requires research, I usually do that in the afternoon.

Linda: Is writers' block a problem for you?

Bobbi: I find that the worst problem that I have is Email. It swallows up so much time.

Being a cat lover, a favorite poem of mine and my students (both elementary and middle school) is “Cat Kisses” posted with permission by Bobbi Katz.

Cat Kisses

Sandpaper kisses

on a cheek or a chin--

that is the way

for a day to begin!

Sandpaper kisses--

a cuddle, a purr.

I have an alarm clock

that's covered with fur.

Daisy and Butterscotch

2008-04-13T12:07:00.000-07:00

Daisy and Butterscotch are the best listeners. They like to sit beside me on the sofa and watch me write on my laptop. They're very patient as I read each new rewrite of my poems. They especially like the poems about them. Here's a tanka I wrote about Butterscotch.

my cat sits watching
waiting for me to come home
I open the door
to the sound of his purring—

unconditional love

Butterscotch is almost ten years old, but he still runs to the door every time I come home. I know he's happy to see me.

Poetry Month

2008-04-13T07:06:00.000-07:00

It's been a busy month so far. I've been working hard to share poetry with my students and fellow teachers. This week I'm doing a workshop on writing poetry inspired by art. I found some great examples of artwork on the internet. I wrote a quick cinquain using a Mary Cassatt painting "Little Girl Sitting in Blue Arm Chair." I haven't thought of a tile yet, but I sure do remember hearing the words, "Wait til your father gets home!" Check out the painting. If it inspires you, I hope you'll share your poem with me. http://www.postershop.com/Cassatt-Mary/Cassatt-Mary-Kleines-Maedchen-im-blauen-Fauteuil-1004518.html

Waiting
waiting— wait ing
for Daddy to come home—
Mommy says I’m in big trouble

AGAIN!

Middle schoolers are very creative so I can't wait to see what they come up with. I'll share some of their poems later in the week.
I just finished taking Laura Purdie Salas' wonderful Writing Nonfiction for the Educational Market class. Wow! She is a fantastic teacher! Laura gives each of her students one-on-one attention and is generous in sharing resources and information needed to get stared in educational writing. I learned a lot about the business. I plan to send out my first Introductory Packet by the end of the week.
Linda