Poetry Friday

It was supposed to snow today.  Instead, we got rain, slush, and sleet.

 

I would have preferred the snow!

 

While looking for a poem for Poetry Friday, I fell in love with this short but sweet ditty.

 

Winter Twilight  
by Anne Porter
On a clear winter's evening
The crescent moon 

And the round squirrels' nest
In the bare oak 

Are equal planets.

Poetry Friday

For this week’s Poetry Friday I decided to do a meme I have seen floating around the internet.  I love music and poetry, and this seemed to combine the two in a fun way.

 

“Be Pete Wentz” Meme
Put your player on shuffle.
The first lines of the first twenty songs that come up are your “poem/song”
The 21st line is the title.

 

I don’t get many things right the first time


You say you’ve turned it off,
I’ll take you just the way you are.
I dont know why I act the way I do,
I’m dreaming of a white Christmas.

Baby look at me,
Walking along beneath the lights of that miracle mile.
I set out on a narrow way many years ago,
I said I wanna touch the earth.

I see your face in my mind as I drive away,
Tired of my beeper, tired of my phone.
Katie you’re a brave girl, and I know its only just started.
Pray God you can cope.

Today was the worst day, I went through hell,
the holidays are here again, the world is white with snow.
It’s astounding, time is fleeting
By the look in your eyes I can tell you’re gonna cry.

Oh, why you look so sad?
This boy here wants to move too fast,
Another summer day
There’s a blue rockin’ chair, sittin’ in the sand.

Poetry Friday

I hope everyone had a wonderful Thanksgiving.  I am still recovering from a wonderful meal with family and plenty of shopping today.  A quick poem for Poetry Friday is definitely in order, especially one for the season.

 

The Harvest Moon  
by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
It is the Harvest Moon!  On gilded vanes
  And roofs of villages, on woodland crests
  And their aerial neighborhoods of nests
  Deserted, on the curtained window-panes
Of rooms where children sleep, on country lanes
  And harvest-fields, its mystic splendor rests!
  Gone are the birds that were our summer guests,
  With the last sheaves return the laboring wains!
All things are symbols: the external shows
  Of Nature have their image in the mind,
  As flowers and fruits and falling of the leaves;
The song-birds leave us at the summer's close,
  Only the empty nests are left behind,
  And pipings of the quail among the sheaves.

Poetry Friday

I first heard this poem when James Howe read an excerpt at the TC Reunion.  His reading brought tears to my eyes, as he explained that Marie Howe wrote the poem to her brother after he passed away from AIDS.

 

WHAT THE LIVING DO

by Marie Howe

 

Johnny, the kitchen sink has been clogged for days, some utensil probably fell down there.

And the Drano won’t work but smells dangerous, and the crusty dishes have piled up

 

waiting for the plumber I still haven’t called. This is the everyday we spoke of.

It’s winter again: the sky’s a deep, headstrong blue, and the sunlight pours through

 

the open living-room windows because the heat’s on too high in here and I can’t turn it off.

For weeks now, driving, or dropping a bag of groceries in the street, the bag breaking,

 

I’ve been thinking: This is what the living do. And yesterday, hurrying along those

wobbly bricks in the Cambridge sidewalk, spilling my coffee down my wrist and sleeve,

 

I thought it again, and again later, when buying a hairbrush: This is it.

Parking. Slamming the car door shut in the cold. What you called that yearning.

 

What you finally gave up. We want the spring to come and the winter to pass. We want

whoever to call or not call, a letter, a kiss–we want more and more and then more of it.

 

But there are moments, walking, when I catch a glimpse of myself in the window glass,

say, the window of the corner video store, and I’m gripped by a cherishing so deep

 

for my own blowing hair, chapped face, and unbuttoned coat that I’m speechless:

I am living. I remember you.

 

From The Atlantic

Where I’m From poems

Read this document on Scribd: Where I’m From poems

I absolutely love beginning the year with “Where I’m From” poems, a lesson inspired by George Ella Lyons. It’s not an easy assignment by any means but my students always rise to the occasion, with some prodding by me. I love these poems because learn so much about my students when reading their poems. You see what is important to them, what their families are like, and what makes them happy. They are a clear window into their lives.

Where I’m From poem template -Check it out!

Read this document on Scribd: Where I’m From poems

Last year, I developed a template for my students to follow, which helped their poems become much deeper. On Friday we started the poems with this year’s class and so far I am extremely impressed. We should finish them up next week, and I can’t wait to hang them up for Back to School Night!

Poetry in Middle School?

Does anyone use Naming the World: A Year of Poems and Lessons
by Nancie Atwell? I want to start introducing poetry and I think what I have seen of this book would help me make great Do-Nows (instead of DOL). However, I can not find a copy anywhere! I can’t afford to spend full-price on the Heinemann site, there are no copies at Amazon or Barnes and Noble, and even Half.com is too expensive. But how do I know if it will work for me if I can’t page through it first?! This is what frustrates me about professional books.

So, does anyone have any experience with Naming the World: A Year of Poems and Lessons by Nancie Atwell? How is it? Do you like it? Do you want to get rid of a cheap copy? ;) Thanks!

Dolphins, Poetry, and Madeline L’Engle

Picture from Asbury Park Press

some text

The big news in my area is that a pod of coastal dolphins has been spending their time in a local river and estuary. At first, officials were worried that they were offshore dolphins, which would present a problem because they don’t have a food source in the area. However, today it was confirmed that they are coastal dolphins and have been feasting on the abundance of bunker in the river! Now, officials are keeping an eye on them and hoping they make their way back to the ocean before the July 4th holiday, when the river will be crowded with boats.

They have been attracting quite a crowd and last night I headed down to try and see them. I did not spot them, but today my mother and sister were lucky enough to spend some time down by the river. They counted 8 dolphins, including a few young ones, and even saw them leaping from the water! I am extremely jealous, needless to say.

Dolphins have always been my favorite animals. Their intelligence, love, and compassion can be seen when they interact with each other in the wild. Because of my affinity for dolphins, Madeline L’Engle’s A Ring of Endless Light has always been a particular favorite of mine. To borrow from Amazon’s summary, “Vicky Austin is filled with strong feelings as she stands near Commander Rodney’s grave while her grandfather, who himself is dying of cancer, recites the funeral service. Watching his condition deteriorate as the summer passes on beautiful Seven Bay Island is almost more than Vicky can bear. To complicate things, she finds herself the center of attention for three very different boys: Leo is an old friend wanting comfort and longing for romance; Zachary, whose attempted suicide inadvertently caused the Commander’s death, is attractive and sophisticated but desperately troubled; and Adam, her older brother’s friend, offers her a wonderful chance to assist in his experiments with dolphins but treats her as a young girl just when she’s ready to feel most grown-up. Called upon to be dependable, stable, and wise, Vicky is exhilarated but often overwhelmed. Forces of darkness and light, tragedy and joy, hover about her, and at times she doesn’t know which will prevail.” A Newbery Honor book in 1980, this is my favorite L’Engle novel.

While looking out into the river, I was reminded of the Henry Vaughan’s famous poem, “The World”, which plays a vital part in the story. A perfect addition to Poetry Friday, I decided to present the first stanza using Wordle.

Read the rest of the poem here.

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