April is ending and my experiment is over. I met my challenge of posting a poem a day and I hope you have enjoyed them. May the rest of your spring season be beautiful.
"The Spring Wind"
The summer wind
is soft and sweet
the winter wind is strong
the autumn wind is mischievous
and sweeps the leaves along.
The wind I love the best
comes gently after rain
smelling of spring and growing things
brushing the world with feathery wings
while everything glistens, and everything sings
in the spring wind
after the rain.
by Charlotte Zolotow (from Read-Aloud Rhymes for the Very Young, pg 56)
30 April 2012
29 April 2012
The Best of Days
"That Kind of Day"
It's that kind of day
and that kind of season
when the breeze is sweet
and the cool air calls
"Come out!"
It beckons the folks
who come out of doors
and wander about
pretending at first
to look for chores
although they know
they just want to walk
in the breeze and the pale
sunlight
it's that kind of day
by Eloise Greenfield (from Under the Sunday Tree, pg 1)
It's that kind of day
and that kind of season
when the breeze is sweet
and the cool air calls
"Come out!"
It beckons the folks
who come out of doors
and wander about
pretending at first
to look for chores
although they know
they just want to walk
in the breeze and the pale
sunlight
it's that kind of day
by Eloise Greenfield (from Under the Sunday Tree, pg 1)
28 April 2012
Journeys
We are going to MerleFest this weekend and will hear Alison Krauss sing tomorrow. She sang this song on "Raising Sand" with Robert Plant. It was written by Doc Watson and his wife, so there is a second MerleFest connection.
It is one of my favorites and makes me think of my grandparents.
"Your Long Journey"
"Your Long Journey"
God's given us years of happiness here
Now we must part
And as the angels come and call for you
The pains of grief tug at my heart
Oh my darling
My darling
My heart breaks as you take your long journey
Oh the days will be empty
The nights so long without you my love
And when god calls for you I'm left alone
But we will meet in heaven above
Oh my darling
My darling
My heart breaks as you take your long journey
Fond memories I'll keep of happy ways
That on earth we trod
And when I come we will walk hand in hand
As one in heaven in the family of god
Oh my darling
My darling
My heart breaks as you take your long journey
by Doc and Rosa Lee Watson
Now we must part
And as the angels come and call for you
The pains of grief tug at my heart
Oh my darling
My darling
My heart breaks as you take your long journey
Oh the days will be empty
The nights so long without you my love
And when god calls for you I'm left alone
But we will meet in heaven above
Oh my darling
My darling
My heart breaks as you take your long journey
Fond memories I'll keep of happy ways
That on earth we trod
And when I come we will walk hand in hand
As one in heaven in the family of god
Oh my darling
My darling
My heart breaks as you take your long journey
by Doc and Rosa Lee Watson
27 April 2012
Good-byes
Book Fair is ending today. It is a relief for me, but I know the students enjoy it and look forward to it coming back next year.
"Good Books, Good Times!"
Good books
Good times.
Good stories.
Good rhymes.
Good beginnings.
Good ends.
Good people.
Good friends.
Good fiction.
Good facts.
Good adventures.
Good acts.
Good stories.
Good rhymes.
Good books.
Good times.
by Lee Bennett Hopkins (from Good Rhymes, Good Times, pg. 28
"Good Books, Good Times!"
Good books
Good times.
Good stories.
Good rhymes.
Good beginnings.
Good ends.
Good people.
Good friends.
Good fiction.
Good facts.
Good adventures.
Good acts.
Good stories.
Good rhymes.
Good books.
Good times.
by Lee Bennett Hopkins (from Good Rhymes, Good Times, pg. 28
26 April 2012
Cleaning Up
It's Poem in your Pocket Day, so here is my favorite childhood poem . . .
"Sarah Cynthia Sylvia Stout
Would not Take the Garbage Out!"
Sarah Cynthia Sylvia Stout
Would not take the garbage out!
She'd scour the pots and scrape the pans,
Candy the yams and spice the hams,
And though her daddy would scream and shout,
She simply would not take the garbage out.
And so it piled up to the ceilings:
Coffee grounds, potato peelings,
Brown bananas, rotten peas,
Chunks of sour cottage cheese.
It filled the can, it covered the floor,
It cracked the window and blocked the door
With bacon rinds and chicken bones,
Drippy ends of ice cream cones,
Prune pits, peach pits, orange peel,
Gloppy glumps of cold oatmeal,
Pizza crusts and withered greens,
Soggy beans and tangerines,
Crusts of black burned buttered toast,
Gristly bits of beefy roasts. . .
The garbage rolled on down the hall,
It raised the roof, it broke the wall. . .
Greasy napkins, cookie crumbs,
Globs of gooey bubble gum,
Cellophane from green baloney,
Rubbery blubbery macaroni,
Peanut butter, caked and dry,
Curdled milk and crusts of pie,
Moldy melons, dried-up mustard,
Eggshells mixed with lemon custard,
Cold french fried and rancid meat,
Yellow lumps of Cream of Wheat.
At last the garbage reached so high
That it finally touched the sky.
And all the neighbors moved away,
And none of her friends would come to play.
And finally Sarah Cynthia Stout said,
"OK, I'll take the garbage out!"
But then, of course, it was too late. . .
The garbage reached across the state,
From New York to the Golden Gate.
And there, in the garbage she did hate,
Poor Sarah met an awful fate,
That I cannot now relate
Because the hour is much too late.
But children, remember Sarah Stout
And always take the garbage out!
by Shel Silverstein (from Where the Sidewalk Ends, pg. 70)
"Sarah Cynthia Sylvia Stout
Would not Take the Garbage Out!"
Sarah Cynthia Sylvia Stout
Would not take the garbage out!
She'd scour the pots and scrape the pans,
Candy the yams and spice the hams,
And though her daddy would scream and shout,
She simply would not take the garbage out.
And so it piled up to the ceilings:
Coffee grounds, potato peelings,
Brown bananas, rotten peas,
Chunks of sour cottage cheese.
It filled the can, it covered the floor,
It cracked the window and blocked the door
With bacon rinds and chicken bones,
Drippy ends of ice cream cones,
Prune pits, peach pits, orange peel,
Gloppy glumps of cold oatmeal,
Pizza crusts and withered greens,
Soggy beans and tangerines,
Crusts of black burned buttered toast,
Gristly bits of beefy roasts. . .
The garbage rolled on down the hall,
It raised the roof, it broke the wall. . .
Greasy napkins, cookie crumbs,
Globs of gooey bubble gum,
Cellophane from green baloney,
Rubbery blubbery macaroni,
Peanut butter, caked and dry,
Curdled milk and crusts of pie,
Moldy melons, dried-up mustard,
Eggshells mixed with lemon custard,
Cold french fried and rancid meat,
Yellow lumps of Cream of Wheat.
At last the garbage reached so high
That it finally touched the sky.
And all the neighbors moved away,
And none of her friends would come to play.
And finally Sarah Cynthia Stout said,
"OK, I'll take the garbage out!"
But then, of course, it was too late. . .
The garbage reached across the state,
From New York to the Golden Gate.
And there, in the garbage she did hate,
Poor Sarah met an awful fate,
That I cannot now relate
Because the hour is much too late.
But children, remember Sarah Stout
And always take the garbage out!
by Shel Silverstein (from Where the Sidewalk Ends, pg. 70)
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