Well! We made it to the end of Poetry Month! We have only scratched the surface of neat poems to share, and ideas for writing our own. There is SO MUCH MORE out there… and in you!
I hope that you take some time to explore and read some poetry every once in a while. You may find that it fills you up in a way you hadn’t thought you needed.
When we’re back in school, come have a browse in our poetry sections! The 811s and 819s are FULL of all sorts of poems. There’s something for everyone, really.
Silly! Jokes! Ridiculous! Laughs! Giggles!
I think it’s time to laugh a little. The first poem below is a limerick. Limericks are always five lines long and have the same rhyme scheme and pattern of syllables. They are often funny.
A Young Farmer of LeedsThere was a young farmer of Leeds
Who swallowed six packets of seeds.
It soon came to pass
He was covered with grass,
And he couldn’t sit down for the weeds.
unknown
Once there was an elephant,
Who tried to use the telephant–
No! No! I mean an elephone
Who tried to use the telephone–
(Dear me! I am not certain quite
That even now I’ve got it right.
Howe’er it was, he got his trunk
Entangled in the telephunk;
The more he tried to get it free,
The louder buzzed the telephee–
(I fear I’d better drop the song
Of elephop and telephong!)
by Laura E. Richards
Today feels like a day to share some calm and lighthearted poems that let you feel the fresh wind on your skin.
Have you been to the sea shore lately? Have you climbed to the top of a hill? If you have been staying close to home, don’t worry: the ocean and the hills will wait for you.
Until I saw the sea
I did not know
that wind
could wrinkle water so.
I never knew
that sun
could splinter a whole sea of blue.
Nor
did I know before,
a sea breathes in and out
upon a shore.
by Lilian Moore
The top of a hill
Is not until
The bottom is below.
And you have to stop
When you reach the top
For there’s no more UP to go.
To make it plain
Let me explain:
The one most reason why
You have to stop
When you reach the top–is:
The next step up is sky.
by John Ciardi
Some poetry is serious and solemn, while other poems are silly and playful. Both types of poetry are important.
Ogden Nash is known for a particularly playful style. Here are four of his poems. I chose all poems about animals to share with you today.
Behold the duck.
It does not cluck.
A cluck it lacks.
It quacks.
It is specially fond
Of a puddle or pond.
When it dines or sups,
It bottoms ups.
The firefly’s flame
Is something for which science has no name
I can think of nothing eerier
Than flying around with an unidentified glow on a
person’s posteerier.
The ostrich roams the great Sahara.
Its mouth is wide, its neck is narra.
It has such long and lofty legs,
I’m glad it sits to lay its eggs.
A flea and a fly in a flue
Were imprisoned, so what could they do?
Said the fly, “let us flee!”
“Let us fly!” said the flea.
So they flew through a flaw in the flue.
Today: reversible poems
A reversible poem is one that can be read fro the top OR from the bottom!
Often the message in the poem is different, depending on which direction you read it. I have never tried to write a poem like this but I think it would be tricky. I’d like to try one day.
This poem was written by a girl named Chanie Gorkin when she was in high school! Amazing!
Don’t forget to read the lines from bottom to top after you read it the regular way.
Today was the absolute worst day ever
And don’t try to convince me that
There’s something good in every day
Because, when you take a closer look,
This world is a pretty evil place.
Even if
Some goodness does shine through once in a while
Satisfaction and happiness don’t last.
And it’s not true that
It’s all in the mind and heart
Because
True happiness can be obtained
Only if one’s surroundings are good
It’s not true that good exists
I’m sure your can agree that
The reality
Creates
My Attitude
It’s all beyond my control
And you’ll never in a million years hear me say that
Today was a good day.
*Now read from the bottom to the top*
Poets exist all around us. I guarantee that you know someone who practices their poetry writing.
My friend Amanda is a poet. She teaches grade seven at another school in Vancouver and performs her poems at events around the city. Her ability to choose a topic and to capture her thoughts, reactions, and feelings impresses me every time I hear or read her poetry.
This year for Poetry Month, while I have been writing daily posts for our Quilchena Library blog, Amanda has been sharing a new poem every day on Facebook. I asked her permission to share a few of them with you:
From day 15:
I’m cultivating my curiosity
As much as I possibly can.
I’m feeding it questions and opinions,
I’m making fertilizer of my certainties,
Reminding myself that the unknown isn’t necessarily unknowable
Dark
Or foreboding.
It could be limitless,
Possibilities.
Cultivating this curiosity gives me labour to do
In this untethered time.
I yearn for the sweat of doing.
When I start spinning
I remind, rebody myself
So that I sit in curiosity
Then dig deep into the rich, rich, earthy soil
Of that garden.
From day 22:
My thoughts as they zing around bumping into each other in most unexpected ways, forging unlikely bonds.
My feelings as they tangle, roll into each other, change colour and texture.
My body as it desires, unwilling to follow the rules I have set out as it pulls me through the world.
My desires as they lead me into unknowns and all too familiars, asking me for blind allegiance.
My intellect, my warrior heart dragging my battered self into the arena again and again.
My softenesses becoming softer.
My hunger rampant.
My joy explosive.
Unruly.
From day 24:
Tell me the story that matters.
Take my hand, lead me through
The marshes of what scares you.
Allow me to wander there, with you.
I can just be there,
I can move my way through, gently.
Lean your tired head on my heart;
It is strong, practiced.
Let the rhythm root you in some kind of peace.
Write your love letters onto my skin,
Draw out the meanings
Let the words ramble their ways across my body
To take up residence where there is resonance.
Share the edges,
Expose the dangers of your unknowing,
Lead me into your murkiness.
I am safe and strong.
I hope that you try writing your own poetry sometime, if you don’t already. Grab an old notebook, or get yourself a fancy new one, (it doesn’t matter what it looks like, as long as you fill it with your writing) and start trying out ideas. Don’t through anything away; just keep stretching, adding, building. Have fun!
Not only can it be tricky to find the just right words for a poem, imagine also getting the lines in your poem to act as palindromes!! A palindrome is a number, word, phrase, or sentence that reads alike forward AND backward.
PURSEWEB SPIDER
“Net food? I do, often!”
Spider spots evil: alive! Stops. Redips
eye. Radar-eye
sees
raw and tangy gnat. DNA war!
Beware, Grub-burger . . . a web.
by Avis Harley
When we write poetry, we need to find the just right words to say what we want to say. Poetry usually uses fewer words than prose (not-poetry) and so there are language tools we can use to get our words to work how we want them to. These tools are called literary devices. One of these devices is alliteration. Alliteration is the repetition of the same initial sound.
Ants,
admiring an amber,
are amazed at an ancestor
appearing almost alive,
all anxious angles and
alert antennae.
An Aesop ant?
Advisiong an audience about
achieving aims and ambitions?
An ant as ancient as Allosaurus?
Actions arrested ages ago?
Albeit an adornment,
as ambered ant
arouses
awe:
“Ancestry” as Art.
by Avis Harley
There is an IMMENSE tradition, all over the world, of writing poetry in celebration of the natural world. On Earth Day, we can share poetry that focuses on the relationship and interdependence between us and the earth.
Remember the sky that you were born under,
know each of the star’s stories.
Remember the moon, know who she is.
Remember the sun’s birth at dawn, that is the
strongest point of time. Remember sundown
and the giving away to night.
Remember your birth, how your mother struggled
to give you form and breath. You are evidence of
her life, and her mother’s, and hers.
Remember your father. He is your life, also.
Remember the earth whose skin you are:
red earth, black earth, yellow earth, white earth
brown earth, we are earth.
Remember the plants, trees, animal life who all have their
tribes, their families, their histories, too. Talk to them,
listen to them. They are alive poems.
Remember the wind. Remember her voice. She knows the
origin of this universe.
Remember you are all people and all people
are you.
Remember you are this universe and this universe
is you.
Remember all is in motion, is growing, is you.
Remember language comes from this.
Remember the dance language is, that life is.
Remember.
by Joy Harjo
We’ve been sitting inside and maybe going outside for shot times only for many days now. Reading and writing helps us use our imaginations to move beyond the walls of our homes and to explore the world outside out windows.
Fling
yourself
upon the sky.
Take the string
you need.
Ride high,
high
above the park.
Tug and buck
and lark
with the wind.
Touch a cloud,
red kite.
Follow the wild geese
in their flight.
by Lilian Moore