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(tagged with 'poetry month')
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Mandy Yates on Poetry Tag: Joan Bransfield Graham is IT, 4/6/2010 5:35:00 AM
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laurasalas on Poetry Tag: Joan Bransfield Graham is IT, 4/6/2010 5:39:00 AM
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Jane Heitman Healy on Poetry Tag: Joan Bransfield Graham is IT, 4/6/2010 9:13:00 AM
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Sylvia Vardell on Poetry Tag: Joan Bransfield Graham is IT, 4/6/2010 10:00:00 PM
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Joan on Poetry Tag: Joan Bransfield Graham is IT, 4/6/2010 10:23:00 PM
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Jane Heitman Healy on Poetry Tag: April Halprin Wayland is IT, 4/7/2010 9:04:00 AM
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Joan on Poetry Tag: April Halprin Wayland is IT, 4/7/2010 10:01:00 PM
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Mary Lee on Poetry Tag: Joyce Sidman is IT, 4/8/2010 2:58:00 AM
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BB on Poetry Tag: Joyce Sidman is IT, 4/8/2010 5:45:00 AM
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Jane Heitman Healy on Poetry Tag: Joyce Sidman is IT, 4/8/2010 8:53:00 AM
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Elaine Magliaro on Poetry Tag: Marilyn Singer is IT, 4/9/2010 9:04:00 AM
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Aline Pereira/ PaperTigers on Poetry Tag: Marilyn Singer is IT, 4/9/2010 11:05:00 AM
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Garret on Poetry Tag: Marilyn Singer is IT, 4/9/2010 12:36:00 PM
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Mary Lee on Poetry Tag: Marilyn Singer is IT, 4/10/2010 4:08:00 AM
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Elaine Magliaro on Poetry Tag: Kristine O’Connell George is IT, 4/10/2010 6:11:00 AM
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Mandy Yates on Poetry Tag: Joyce Sidman is IT, 4/10/2010 7:17:00 AM
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Mandy Yates on Poetry Tag: Marilyn Singer is IT, 4/10/2010 7:23:00 AM
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Mandy Yates on Poetry Tag: Kristine O’Connell George is IT, 4/10/2010 7:32:00 AM
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Elaine Magliaro on Poetry Tag: Joyce Sidman is IT, 4/10/2010 9:41:00 AM
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Anonymous on Poetry Tag: Kristine O’Connell George is IT, 4/10/2010 12:20:00 PM
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Marjorie on Poetry Tag: Marilyn Singer is IT, 4/10/2010 4:18:00 PM
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Marjorie on Poetry Tag: Kristine O’Connell George is IT, 4/10/2010 4:23:00 PM
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Mandy Yates on Poetry Tag: Alice Schertle is IT, 4/11/2010 5:11:00 AM
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Michele Krueger on Poetry Tag: Kristine O’Connell George is IT, 4/11/2010 9:21:00 AM
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Kate Coombs on Poetry Tag: Heidi Stemple is IT, 4/13/2010 5:49:00 AM
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Bridget on Poetry Tag: Heidi Stemple is IT, 4/13/2010 6:45:00 AM
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Bridget on Poetry Tag: Lesléa Newman is IT, 4/14/2010 6:44:00 AM
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Jane Heitman Healy on Poetry Tag: Marilyn Nelson is IT, 4/15/2010 12:39:00 PM
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Jane Heitman Healy on Poetry Tag: Lesléa Newman is IT, 4/15/2010 1:05:00 PM
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Jane Heitman Healy on Poetry Tag: Pat Mora is IT, 4/16/2010 2:30:00 PM
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Amy LV on Poetry Tag: Naomi Shihab Nye is IT, 4/17/2010 7:09:00 AM
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Mary Lee on Poetry Tag: Pat Mora is IT, 4/18/2010 1:43:00 PM
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Mandy on Poetry Tag: Aimee Nezhukumatathil is IT, 4/19/2010 11:25:00 AM
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Mary Lee on Poetry Tag: Matthea Harvey is IT, 4/20/2010 4:36:00 PM
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Jane Heitman Healy on Poetry Tag: Marie Bradby is IT, 4/23/2010 8:25:00 AM
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TeresaR on Poetry Tag: Helen Frost is IT, 4/23/2010 7:12:00 PM
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Mary Lee on Poetry Tag: Tracie Vaughn Zimmer is IT, 4/25/2010 3:44:00 AM
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kim - love quotes on Poetry Tag: Tracie Vaughn Zimmer is IT, 4/25/2010 1:45:00 PM
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janet wong on Poetry Tag: Tracie Vaughn Zimmer is IT, 4/25/2010 10:34:00 PM
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Bridget on Poetry Tag: Tracie Vaughn Zimmer is IT, 4/26/2010 6:22:00 PM
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Yesterday featured Nikki Grimes’s lovely desert poem. Now she tags Tracie Vaughn Zimmer who writes, “I'm thrilled to play with poetry of course and despite the ‘busyness,’ I must toss the ball! I'm so honored to come after Nikki who has been a friend of mine now for several years.
Here's a poem from SKETCHES FROM A SPY TREE which features a narrator, a plant, and a relationship, too. But, uhm, a bit naughtier girl than Nikki's sweet Teresa is my Anne Marie in spring.” Here is Tracie’s mischievous poem.
Across the Bac
k Fence
By Tracie Vaughn Zimmer
Mr. O'Brien
(red brick house
across the back fence)
tries to train his grass--
not his dog to fetch
or his son Paul to pitch
but one million blades of bluegrass--
to behave!
Twice a week
he cuts it down
whips back the edges
blows the cuttings and
sweeps the strays.
He even
claps his shoes
like dirty chalkboard erasers
out in the street
so the whiskers of grass
can't follow him home.
I know I shouldn't,
but when the p
Yesterday featured a beautiful pet poem by George Ella Lyon. Today, she tags her friend, Marie Bradby, who writes: I am delighted and honored to participate in your poetry tag. My poem below is "If You Were a Bird". The link to George Ella's poem is the connection and closeness we feel to animals. My house and yard are so full of nesting birds every year that I feel I live in an aviary. We have so much to learn from others who share this glorious earth with us. The birds give me as much comfort and love as Rosie! Here is her “bird” poem.
If You Were a Bird
by Marie Bradby
April 14, 2010
If you were a bird
in this world that goes
round and round,
you would gather
bits of straw and sticks
and even hair and tinsel
all day long
to build a nest,
a home for your babies to come.
If you were a bird,
you would sit
for weeks and weeks
day and night,
rain and shine,
cold and hot
on your eggs
until your baby birds hatched
and breathed their first breath
in this round, round world,
where things come and go
and come back again.
You would travel back and
forth
hundreds of times
from sunup to sundown,
carrying worms and insects;
berries and seeds
to feed these hungry babies
with their wide-open mouths,
and their eyes still shut.
You would fight off
cats, foxes, and even other birds--
hawks, eagles, and owls--
clawing, pecking, and chasing these sly hunters
back to where they came from.
“Stay away!” you would yell. “Stay away!”
Then at su
Yesterday, Helen Frost shared her tender poem, “Pepperoni Was My Dog” and tagged her friend, George Ella Lyon, who writes, “Here's my poem. The link, first of all, is having a beloved four-foot as a companion. A fur(!)ther link is that Rosie has passed on since I wrote this, so she is now missing like Suki, only permanently. I still look for her.” Here’s George Ella’s poem of loss and longing along with her own photo of her beloved cat, Rosie.

SWEET SIXTEEN
By George Ella Lyon
Rosie dozes
on my shoulder,
in my lap
bony old girl,
tortoiseshell fur
coming off in tufts.
December and she
still meows
to go out
can’t get warm
when she comes in.
If I try to write
without her
she hooks her
thorns
into my clothes
and climbs
my back.
Once settled
head and forepaws
draped over
my shoulder—
the only fur
I’ll ever wear—
she breathes
a ripple
of a purr.
At night
she takes up
her station
waits
in the hall
for me
to prepare
her favorite
libation:
bath water
with me
in it.
Five fun facts
about George Ella Lyon
*she grew up in the mountains of Kentucky
*she loves caramel icing
*she started writing poems on her own in third grade
*she loved Black Beauty so much as a child that she ate raw oats to taste what it was like to be a horse
*she teaches every summer at the Appalachian Writers Workshop
Look for these selected poetry books by Lyon:
*Where I’m From, Where Poems Come From (Absey & Co, 1999)
*Counting on the Woods (DK Ink, 2000)
*Catalpa (Wind Publications, 2007)
*A Kentucky Christmas (University of Kentucky Press, 2003)
Matthea Harvey shared her “paired parrot” poem yesterday and next up is Helen Frost who writes, “This may be a tenuous connection, but there are boys coming home from school in Matthea's poem, and in this one of mine.” Here is Frost’s poem from her novel in verse, Spinning Through the Universe.

Pepperoni Was My Dog
By Helen Frost
I know how Ryan feels. Suki, his white cat—she’s
Missing. He wants me to help him look, but
I don’t know his cat. I don’t know where
Suki sleeps or what she eats. In other words,
Suki isn’t Pepperoni.
Pepperoni was my dog. He died. Now
Every day when I come home from school,
Pepperoni doesn’t thump his tail.
Pepperoni doesn’t curl beside me on the couch,
Even if I whistle and pat the place he likes.
Rawhide bones and chewed up toys aren’t left all
Over the back yard. My ears are empty from the
Noises Pepperoni doesn’t make.
I know how much space one cat or dog can fill.
Poem from SPINNING THROUGH THE UNIVERSE by Helen Frost. Copyright © 2004 by Helen Frost. Used by permission of Farrar, Straus and Giroux, LLC.
Five fun facts about Helen Frost
*she was b
orn in South Dakota
*she is one of ten children
*she has worked as a teacher in Scotland, Alaska, and Indiana
*she enjoys raising and releasing monarch butterflies
*she has written nonfiction series books in science and biology
[Based on Poetry People; A Practical Guide to Children’s Poets]
Look for these poetry books by Helen Frost:
*Keesha's House (Farrar, Straus & Giroux, 2003)
*Spinning through the Universe (Farrar, Straus & Giroux, 2004)
*The Braid (Farrar, Straus & Giroux, 2006)
*Diamond Willow (Farrar, Straus & Giroux, 20
Poetry tag continues with Aimee Nezhukumatathil tagging her friend, poet Matthea Harvey who shares this connection, “I am being a very literal tagger--from Aimee's parrot to mine. Here the human and the parrot are feeling a little less hopeful, but they are certainly the best of friends!” Here is Matthea's "parrot" poem:

Our Square of Lawn
by Matthea Harvey
From the parrot's perch
the view is always Hello.
We try not to greet one
another. When the boys come
after school I shout
you are not cameras
at them & they run away.
Fact will muzzle anything.
I look at myself in
a spoon & I am just
a head. Never learned
how to make ringlets.
The trees are covered
with tiny dead bouquets.
The ducks have been eating
grass with chemicals on it,
ignoring the signs. At night
from our glass-fronted box
we watch them glow.
It is the closest we come
to dreaming.
Copyright Matthea Harvey 2010
Five fun fac
ts about Matthea Harvey
*her book Modern Life was a finalist for the National Book Critics
Yesterday Carrie Fountain took us down the highway with her poem , “El Camino Real 3” and then tagged Aimee Nezhukumatathil who writes, “I included the following poem of mine because I think it speaks to Carrie's poem about the waiting and anticipation of both human and, in this case-- animal, of waiting for some small bit of magic, of always being open and alive to at least the possibility of it happening in your life, no matter how strange or unexpected the source.” Here is her provocative poem.

FORTUNE-TELLING PARROT
(IDUKKI, INDIA)
By Aimee Nezhukumatathil
I will pick
a black card
of luck for you:
star, pinkmoon,
mirror, ostrich eye,
and jasmine bloom.
You may want
to ring my neck
with a tiny strand
of lantana if you
like what you see.
Or tear my red beak
in two angry pieces
like a pistachio.
My man covers
my cage at night
with a tattered
turquoise sari.
I sleep with one eye
open, just in case
a white cricket
creeps my way.
Five fun fac
Yesterday, Naomi Shihab Nye played our ongoing game of Poetry Tag. Then she tagged Carrie Fountain who writes, “I so admire Naomi's poem for Mahmoud Darwish and find myself returning to the final image of the dusty workers pausing ‘to stare beyond ruins they can see, / to what they will always believe in.’
I thought I'd send along my poem, ‘El Camino Real 3,’ which I think connects in some way with the idea in 'Endure' of watching and hoping for--or believing in, as Naomi puts it--what lies ahead, beyond what we can see.”

El Camino Real 3
by Carrie Fountain
We’re balancing the heat of the day
on the tops of our heads, walking
along the shoulder of the road
to the new liquor store for Cokes,
which she said would take fifteen minutes tops
but instead is taking over an hour.
On one side, a field of cotton, ready
to be picked, thick and white
with loosened bulbs; on the other, hard dirt
and nothing, then a ditch, a road, some
morbid-looking piece of farming equipment,
and in the distance, the rise of the interstate
and the woozy sound it makes.
In loose reference to a conversation
we’ve been having off and on all summer,
she says, “Okay, what if we’re already dead
and this is heaven?” The question hangs there
in front of us. We walk through it. A car
passes us from behind, and the hot breeze
hits the backs of our legs. The road curves.
Far ahead, the liquor store flashes
Yesterday, Pat Mora shared her poem, “Spanish,” and tagged her friend, Naomi Shihab Nye. Naomi responds, “Wow! This is very cool and I love all the poems. Here is a poem for one of my poetry heroes, Mahmoud Darwish, and I believe it links to the other poems because there is also a sense of being an ‘outsider’ in some way, from the world around you, but finding a way to move and to survive, even elegantly, in that pain and separation. He wrote only in Arabic, though he was utterly fluent in English. He heard the music many of his countrymen and women stopped hearing -- after decades of frustration and humiliation. He deserves Leslea's bouquet too. And if sense is ever made of the horrible conflict in Palestine/Israel, if justice is ever embodied -- I think he'll be there in spirit to accept it.” Here is her moving tribute.
EN
DURE
For Mahmoud Darwish, 1942-2008
By Naomi Shihab Nye
Mahmoud, so spare inside your elegant suit,
you moved across stony fields, bent to brush
the petals of a flower, didn't pick it.
Closed your eyes, though, holding one hand with the
other, carrying blossoms back to the page.
For those who would never walk a field or bend down,
you carried cries of a lost goat and
a people, without stumbling.
Streaks of tears mapping soft cheeks,
large and somber glasses,
the edgy poke of thin shoulders --
you stood a bit to the side, hand over heart,
lifting a glass, toasting the sadness
of wandering wind. We lived there, brother,
in your poems, with our heartbro
Yesterday featured the powerful poetry of Marilyn Nelson. Next she tags Pat Mora, who makes these connections, “At the words, ‘My fingers remember the ebony and ivory keys,’ in Marilyn Nelson's rich selection (from MISS CRANDALL'S SCHOOL FOR YOUNG LADIES AND LITTLE MISSES OF COLOR), my fingers also remembered the cool smoothness. I savored the images and the silence in Marilyn's poem that is redeeming and triumphant, her final line of hope, a blessing, a surprising truth Marilyn creates and shares. Silence can also be lonely, sad, isolating, the sadness I see in the eyes of students of all ages-- students striving to enter the power language in our country of diverse languages.” Here is her tender and bittersweet poem.
Spanish
by Pat Mora
My mom worried that I was sick
or changing, “¿Porqué estás tan quieta?”
I hurt too much to tell her. I was shrinking
in that school. I couldn’t speak
English.
All m
Poetry Tag continues at this mid-point of National Poetry Month. Today is also the day for my annual “Poetry Round Up” at the Texas Library Association conference in San Antonio, TX (featuring Jen Bryant, Leslie Bulion, Douglas Florian, Pat Mora, Laura Purdie Salas, and Robert Weinstock). But more on that later. Meanwhile, yesterday featured Lesléa Newman’s lovely “May Day” poem and she tagged Marilyn Nelson who wrote,
“Lesléa's lovely poem made me long to respond with a ballet poem of my own, and I thought at first of sending the entire text of my BEAUTIFUL BALLERINA book. Instead, I've responded to the idea of stillness in her poem, and posted one from a sequence of poems about students in a residential school for African American girls founded by the Quaker teacher Prudence Crandall in a Connecticut village in the early 19th Century. The school was not welcomed: the state passed a law making it illegal; both students and teacher were harassed. When the building was set on fire by arsonists, Miss Crandall gave up. The school was closed, the students dispersed. My poem in the voice of one of the students describes a rare and treasured moment of stillness in that brief and painful history."

All-Night Melodies
By Marilyn Nelson
An evening on the piano: ecstasy
could not be sweeter. Even simple scales
promise hymn chords, while six-note harmony
must be a taste of heaven's color wheel.
A fire on the hearth, the dishes put away,
twenty girls sit by oil lamps to read or sew
until Miss Teacher signals time to retire.
We form a blessing-circle before the fire
as silence fills us with its constant thrum.
My fingers remember the ebony and ivory keys,
my feet the pedals. All-night melodies
unplayed, unheard, swirl in our shared bedroom,
meet other dreams, converge, become a sound
silent enough to convert every bigot in town.
from Alexander, Elizabeth and Nelson, Marilyn. 2007. Miss Crandall’s School for Young Ladies and Little Misses of Color. Honesdale, PA: Wordsong/Boyds Mills Press.
Five
fun facts abou
Yesterday featured a poem by Heidi Stemple, tagged by her mother, Jane Yolen. Today, Heidi tags her friend and writer, Lesléa Newman who writes, “I loved Heidi Stemple's poem, as I am a big fan of ballet (and of Heidi)! As a child, I took ballet lessons; now I am content to be a member of the audience. I wasn't the best ballerina, but I was very enthusiastic. In fact, my book, MISS TUTU'S STAR which is forthcoming from Abrams this fall, is about a little girl who is a bit clumsy, yet loves to dance.” Here is her “dancing” poem (also an interesting counterpoint to Alice Schertle’s “May” poem featured on April 11, by the way).

May Day
By Lesléa Newman
All winter long the old apple tree waits
outside my window poised like a prima ballerina
its twisted trunk a delicate arch
its bare branches holding an elegant pose.
Still, still, still, until today
when God tapped his baton
and the tree leapt to life
covered with scores of pink blossoms
that rustled sweetly in the breeze
like a thousand dancers in taffeta skirts
clustered before a dressing room
mirror mirror on the wall
each one the fairest of them all.
Oh, I too was once a girl
with ribbons streaming through my hair
with a spring in my step
and satin slippers on my feet
completely wrapped up in my own dark beauty
until it all unraveled and I was left out in the cold.
So come, come, come rush outside with me.
Bow your head and breathe, breathe deep.
Reach your arms out and take what is given.
Guest Blogger Rachael Walker is the Outreach Consultant for Reading Rockets, a national multimedia initiative which aims to inform and inspire parents, teachers, childcare providers, and others who touch the life of a child by providing comprehensive, accessible information on how to teach kids to read and help those who struggle. Rachael began her career in children’s literacy at Reading Is Fundamental (RIF), has also served as a consultant to the NEA’s Read Across America campaign, and was most recently the Executive Director of Reach Out and Read of Metro DC.
Practical jokes, bad moods, idioms, cinquains (it’s National Poetry Month!), an insect guidebook, adventure stories, and historical fiction via Twitter….author Megan McDonald (Judy Moody) and author and illustrator Timothy Basil Ering (The Tale of Despereaux) provide the inspiration for this month’s writing prompts in the Exquisite Prompt Writing Challenge, a year-long activity from Reading Rockets and AdLit.org that gives students in K–12 a chance to flex their writing muscles — and win fabulous prizes! The Exquisite Prompts are offered in connection with each of the authors and illustrators participating in The Exquisite Corpse Adventure.
The prompt schedule through June 2010 is also available as are the writings of winners from October through February. Meet the Whinoceros and the Chimpancheeze, check out the fabulous items created for the Fairy Tale Catalog, and imagine the music to the inspired lyrics in Homeward Bound.
Plus, there’s a new wrinkle to the Exquisite Corpse Adventure: the Mystery Author Contest. Follow the clues and learn the identity of the newest member of Team Corpse. More fabulous prizes are at stake!
Yesterday featured Jane Yolen’s poem, “Plumes.” She tagged the next poet, Heidi Stemple and informed her, “This is a poetry tag. You are to send a poem to another poet who will keep this going on. Your poem has to somehow relate to what is already here” and signed it “xxxMommy.”
In response, Heidi wrote, “I chose my mom's use of lace and fancy outfits to relate to a poem I started working on during poet Lesléa Newman's (whom I am tagging as the next poet) “30 Poems in 30 Days” challenge. My daughter Maddison is a ballet dancer with Amherst Ballet and one of the things I do in my spare time is make ballet costumes for her performances. I've written several poems about costume making--many of them include three special characters who "help" me: Odette, our mannequin (a good name for a ballet mannequin--it's from Swan Lake) and our cats Sammy and Romeo who seem to always be around when there is sewing. Odette is a great help to me. Sammy and Romeo are not, as you can imagine.
I chose the silliest of my costume poems. I thought, too, that this poem could lead the next poet in many new directions in the game of poetry tag.”
Ballet Costumes
By Heidi Stemple
Miles of lace
and acres of ribbon,
edged in bejeweled
bias tape.
I tuck, pleat,
and pin,
‘round my mannequin,
and a tutu
begins to take shape.
The pattern’s laid out,
the waist band is measured,
but, where is that
pink threaded spool?

Last Monday, we shared poems and resources for children ages 0-4. This Monday, we will be focusing on children ages 4-8.
Education Place has useful resources for Poetry Month to use in the classroom. Younger students can cut and color illustrations of a nursery rhyme and then put their pictures in order. Older students can create name poems using the first letters of their names.
Not sure where to start? Check out these poems at A Treasury of Read-Alouds: Poetry for Children.
Did you know Dr. Seuss was an excellent poet? We always knew that his works were playful and fun, but they were also amazing poems. Some of our
favorites are:
Green Eggs & Ham
One Fish Two Fish Red Fish Blue Fish
Fox in Socks
Do you have any ideas you’d like to share? Make a comment below!
Jane Yolen read Alice Schertle’s clever cinquain (yesterday) and focused on the birds in Alice’s poem. She then made her selection from her recent book An Egret’s Day to continue our game of Poetry Tag.
Plumes
By Jane Yolen
Its plumes resemble Belgian lace
That ladies wear most anyplace.
However, plumes like these should stay--
No matter what hat-makers pay--
Upon the shoulders of the egret.
My take on this is hardly secret.
Yolen, Jane. 2010. An Egret’s Day. Honesdale, PA: Wordsong/Boyds Mills Press.
Five fun fa
cts about Jane Yolen
*both her parents were writers
*she studied ballet at Balanchine’s School of American Ballet
*she has half a dozen honorary doctoral degrees
*she lives in one-half of a 1902 Arts & Crafts mansion in Scotland during the long summers
*she has written more than 300 books for children and in nearly every genre
[Based on Poetry People; A Practical Guide to Children’s Poets]
Look for these selected poetry books by Yolen:
*With Andrew Fusek Peters, Switching on the Moon; A Very First Book of Bedtime Poems (Candlewick, 2010)
*An Egret’s Day (Wordsong/Boyds Mills Press, 2010)
*Here’s a Little Poem (with Andrew Fusek Peters; Candlewick, 2007)
*How Do Dinosaurs Say Good Night? (Blue Sky Press, 2000)
*Color Me a Rhyme: Nature Poems for Young People (Wordsong/Boyds Mills Press, 2000)
*Once Upon Ice and Other Frozen Poems (Wordsong/Boyds Mills Press, 1997)
*Sacred Places (Harcourt Brace, 1996)
Another day, another tag! Kristine O’Connell George shared two connected poems yesterday and tagged her friend, Alice Schertle. Alice writes, “Thanks to all for a bouquet of fabulous poems. Kris, you made that quivering rabbit come to life for me again. A line in Rabbit II, "flight is habit", made me think of a cinquain I wrote for KEEPERS. It's a different kind of flight, but the fear is there. And, after all, every habit begins with a first time.
Oh, and I've pushed a bit beyond the April poetry month here, but then, if April comes, can May be far behind?
Happy spring! This in spite of the fact that snow lies three feet deep in my back yard.” Here is Alice’s cinquain poem from Keepers.

May is
loud with mother
and father birds hopping
up and down, hollering, "You can
DO it!"
From Keepers by Alice Schertle, Lothrop, Lee & Shepard Books, 1996. Copyright by Alice Schertle, used by permission of the author, who controls all rights.
Five
fun facts about Alice Schertle
*her last name rhymes with “turtle”
*she’s a former elementary school teacher
*she moved from California to Massachusetts to experience a new climate
*she can recite many many poems by heart
*she adapted nursery rhymes from Spanish to English in Pio Peep!: Traditional Spanish Nursery Rhymes selected by Alma Flor Ada and Isabel Campoy
[Based on Poetry People; A Practical Guide to Children’s Poets]
Look fo
Another of my favorite authors that writes poems, stories, essays, novellas and even the occasional novel - David Huddle is a writer's writer. Mention the name to writers 40 and over at AWP and they nod knowingly. Younger writers should as well.
Originally emailed to EWN members on February 14, 2005
Grayscale by David Huddle
2004 by LSU Press, 56 pages
(I always buy David Huddle books as soon as I hear they’re coming out – did so
with this one too)
In this, his fifth, collection of poems, David Huddle continues his exploration of family, and memories and how we fit into the world. As well as he does this throughout the collection, he might best do it in the poem, Myself in Retrospect:
Last night as I was making what I thought
was a funny dinner-table remark,
it happened again – I imagined Lindsey
and Molly recalling what I’d just said
years after my death: Do you remember
that time dad…
The continuation of the poem has Huddle discussing how oddly comforting this thought is – knowing that even after his death he and his family will be able to joke around the kitchen table.
Throughout the rest of the collection, Huddle remembers things about his days as a child, about older generations of family members while looking at their photos, and occasionally looks into his future.
Huddle seems to have challenged himself within this collection – looking for the ability to create shapes on the page while maintaining the skills he’s shown in the past for finding just the right words and no more than that. Within the collection, there are poems that are perfect squares, perfect triangles, serpentine walls, circles, etc. No matter the shape though, the poem reads as if it were put on the page in a straightforward manner.
While these shapes create interesting appearances on the various pages, it is still Huddle’s writing that will keep the reader coming back to this and his other poetry collections. He brings a certain nostalgia to his work – looking back, as he does, on his life and those of his family. He gives the reader something to think about in regards to their own families, and that just adds to the joy of reading his words.
4.5 stars
I give this one classic status as it shows my absolute incompetence. I just couldn't get into this collection. Why is that incompetent (well, besides the "logic" employed in the review)? It was a finalist for the Pulitzer that year and a Chicago Tribune Book-of-the-Year. Way to go Dan!
Originally sent via email to EWN members on December 8, 2002
Elegy for the Southern Drawl by Rodney Jones
1999 by Houghton-Mifflin, 112 pages
(I bought this from the Berkeley Borders in MI)
Rodney Jones sixth collection of poetry, Elegy for the Southern Drawl, is broken
up into five sections. The middle section is the title poem by itself and it is a ten page effort broken up into 12 sections.
Within the collection, Jones writes about many different topics including football, DDT, owls, and his penis. His skill level is apparent as he writes in various forms, and does so with seeming ease. As somebody who isn’t well versed in poetry, or the big name poets of the past, I had the feeling that Jones was having his way with words in poems that he recalled some of those names of the past.
Seeing his recalling of Whitman, Williams, Pound, Keats, Singer, et al, and doing so in different forms and structures led me to believe he was showing his ability to write of them within their own styles. I would have to do further research of these writers and their works to verify this however.
The problems that I had with this collection were, I believe, my prior lack of reading or studying poetry. The collection seems to be written for those who have done so. I’ve read most of the poems at least two times and still had no idea what Jones was doing in many of them. While I believe the title poem is about language and the various uses of it - there are still two or three sections that made no sense at all to me.
In terms of looking at how a poet can use different forms, and write lines and sections that flow off the tongue with incredible sound, this was a great experience. In terms of being really happy that I read a collection because of what the writer was saying, this was pretty frustrating.
3.5 stars
Poetry Tag continues for Poetry Friday this week (and every day in April). Yesterday, Joyce Sidman shared a “bird” poem and then she tagged Marilyn Singer. Marilyn shares a bird poem of her own with this note, “Sticking with both Joyce's bird theme and the idea of flocking, here's a poem about my favorite bird--- rather different from the lovely, seed-eating goldfinches. It's from THE COMPANY OF CROWS and it's spoken by ‘The Father’ (crow).” Here is the page from the book used with permission of the poet and the illustrator:

From The Company of Crows by Marilyn Singer, illustrated by Linda Saport (Clarion, 2002). Used with permission of the poet and the illustrator.
Five fun facts abo
ut Marilyn Singer
*a trip to the Brooklyn Botanic Garden prompted her to focus on writing for young people
*she loves ballroom dancing
*her first book of poetry for children was Turtle in July (Macmillan, 1989)
*she has also written nonfiction, picture books, fairy tales, YA novels, and mysteries
*she and co-host, Barbara Genco launched the annual ALSC Poetry Blast of poets reading from their works in 2003
[Based on Poetry People; A Practical Guide to Children’s Poets]
Look for t
hese selected poetry books by Singer:
*Turtle in July (Macmillan, 1989)
Things should be deep into AWP now - maybe a quick post from Denver, maybe not, depends on internet availability. Even if not, here's another celebration of National Poetry Month!
Originally sent via email to EWN members on May 28, 2003
The Determined Days by Philip Stephens
2000 by Overlook, 92 pages
(I bought this one on the advice of Elwood Reid – a genuinely smart man when it comes to literature – not to mention damn good writer)
Philip Stephens writes poems both in a manner, and about subjects, that one does
not see often. He writes about the disenchanted, those who perform hard labor, if they have jobs at all, and those who most often get avoided by others on a day to day basis.
Those speaking to us in his poems include – two homeless men playing chess in a library until their discussion of missionary homes gets too loud, a couple trying to check into a motel late at night, suffering the pornography watching of the motel clerk, and a little girl who social workers have nearly given up one, she no longer acts in any other manner than the one people want her to after years of being abused, on film, by her step-father - she learned how to be what the other person wanted so well that they can't reach her.
The manner that these individuals speak to the reader is the same manner they speak to each other. Stephens uses dialogue in his poetry, even more than narrative. The conversations go back and forth, from stanza to stanza, with something as simple as starting the stanza from the left, or halfway across the page to ensure the reader knows when the point of view has changed.
What Stephens does best is show his readers how people in such scenarios get through each day, when all they have to look forward to is another day of the same.
From the opening Ditch Digging, comes the following:
Quite senselessly, we pick some earth apart,
And put it back, almost like before.
Nothing changes. Nothing. Nothing more
Except when day ends. Rome might tell a joke,
And we'll drink coffee, chew, or have a smoke,
Turning our backs on the little sinking scar
Of broken dirt that leads to where we are.
Ditch Digging, the first poem in the collection, and Climbing, the final poem from which the following comes:
'Well, boys, it's Friday,' Smith's compelled to say,
But Rome calls down, 'Know what that means' One day
Closer to Monday.'
'That's the fucking shits,'
Smith says. We laugh at him; he turns and spits.
are two of a few poems about a groups of ditch diggers named Hondo, Hawk, Smith, Sandoval and Rome. They embody most of what Stephens is writing about and with his placement of these two particular poems, at the beginning and end of his collection give the reader enough cause to read this collection straight through. At 92 pages, it is a quick, but powerful read. One that those from all straights of life should look into.
4 stars
Next up in our game of Poetry Tag is Joyce Sidman. She connects with yesterday’s poem by April Halprin Wayland and writes, “I LOVED April's poem for its evocative sense both of wide open sky and the closeness of snuggling in a car with people you love. So, I am choosing a poem from BUTTERFLY EYES called ‘Always Together’, which is about goldfinches, who flock together the year 'round. In this grey time of year they cheer my heart!" Here’s the page right out of the book, shared with permission of the poet and the publisher.

From: Butterfly Eyes and Other Secrets of the Meadow by Joyce Sidman. Illustrated by Beth Krommes. Used by permission of Houghton Mifflin Harcourt. Copyright (c) 2006 by Joyce Sidman. All rights reserved.
Five fun facts about Joyce Sidman
*she’s a middle sister of three sisters
*she has a degree in German
*she started writing poetry in high school, encouraged by a sympathetic teacher
*she has a free poem bookmark on her Web site
*she loves dogs (and the world of nature altogether)
[Taken from Poetry People; A Practical Guide to Children’s Poets]
Look for these selected poetry books Sidman:
*Eureka! Poems about Inventors (Millbrook, 2002)
*Song of the Water Boatman and Other Pond Poems (Houghton Mifflin, 2005)
*Butterfly Eyes and Other Secrets of the Meadow (Houghton Mifflin, 2006)
*Meow Ruff: A Story in Concrete Poetry (Houghton Mifflin, 2006)
*This is Just to Say (
Please understand that by EWN Classic I certainly do NOT mean it's a classic review. Not by a longshot - some of these older reviews induce enough cringing to hurt my shoulders. No, it's intended to re-highlight a fantastic collection of poetry during National Poetry Month. As I'll be at AWP and probably not reading a full collection each day and posting about it, I'm trying to figure out the means of having posts appear daily while I'm gone, and if successful, they'll be similar to this - retro posts/re-posts of reviews written in the past of collections I really loved.
Originally sent to EWN members via email on December 18, 2002
After the Lost War by Andrew Hudgins
1990 by Houghton-Mifflin, 134 pages
(I still remember buying this one from Shaman Drum in Ann Arbor, MI)
In After the Lost War,
Andrew Hudgins has taken on the persona of the poet, Sidney Lanier. Through his acknowledgements and preface,
Hudgins shares with his readers that he has read all of Lanier’s writings, as well
as biographies about him. He has taken
this information and allowed it to flow through his mind long
enough to allow him to write a series of poems that, to paraphrase Hudgins,
allows him to live his life through that of Lanier’s.
The book is broken up into four sections: The Civil War, the period of
time afterwards,
the years Lanier was the Flauto Primo for the Peabody Orchestra in Baltimore, and the last
years of his life, when he was physically unable to play his flute. Hudgins introduces each section with a small bit of prose, allowing
the reader some of his knowledge about that portion of Lanier’s life
Hudgins uses repetition of small events or attributes of
Lanier’s life to give the reader a steady view of his life. An example is the constant reminder of Lanier’s
health. Sidney
had never been the healthiest of individuals and after suffering through the
rigors of war was captured and held prisoner, in an area with brutal
conditions, at Fort Lookout in Maryland
for three months. This poor health is
brought into the various stages of Lanier’s life. It is this poor health that is the cause of
many of Lanier’s actions in life including leaving his family for a period of time
to live in Texas

Tag! Time for another poet to be IT! Lee Bennett Hopkins (see below) has tagged Joan Bransfield Graham who writes, “Lee mentions ‘showers,’ and so I'll share my ‘Shower’ poem from my book of shaped water poems, SPLISH SPLASH (Houghton Mifflin Harcourt). Please read down, starting on the left.” Here is the page from the book, used with permission:

© Joan Bransfield Graham
Illustration credit: © Steve Scott, illustrator, Splish Splash, Houghton Mifflin Harcourt
Joan also shares, “At a school visit I did once, each First Grade class wore hats to go with poems in SPLISH SPLASH. All the children in one class wore shower caps, had towels around their necks, and there was a yellow rubber duck. We had a parade, marching through the playground, led by the principal in his Mad Hatter hat. When we came to a stop, over the PA (public address) system they played "Splish Splash I Was Taking a Bath," and everyone started dancing. Now that's celebrating poetry! The theme for this year's National Summer Reading program is MAKE A SPLASH @ YOUR LIBRARY: READ!”
Five fun f
acts about Joan Bransfield Graham
*she was born on Halloween
*she lived one summer with a Spanish family on the island of Majorca
*she is married to a former FBI agent
*she now lives near the Pacific Ocean
*she loves photography and has taken many notable photographs
[Taken from Poetry People; A Practical Guide to Children’s Poets]
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Hooray for the hometown (well, home STATE anyway) girl and for using dandelions to make the world a more spontaneous and less ordered place!
What a delightful poem. I love poems that paint a vivid picture in my mind as I read.
This one does exactly that. I even chuckled as I've had my run ins with a few dandelions in my day.
You are so delightfully subversive, Tracie.
TO THE DANDELION REVOLUTION!!
(And thank you for tagging me!)
What a lovely poem!