Second in my series highlighting the 7 finalists for the 2015 Cybils Poetry Award is The Popcorn Astronauts and Other Biteable Rhymes. It's by Deborah Ruddell, illustrated by Joan Rankin, published n March 2015 by Margaret K. McElderry Books.
This collection offers 21 short poems on the ever-popular theme of good eats. They're organized by season and are rhymed and metered verse, every one. Titles like "Only Guacamole!", "How a Poet Orders a Shake," "Voyage of the Great Baked Potato Canoes" and "The Word's Biggest Birthday Cake" give a good sense of the spirit of this collection aimed at readers 4-12. Here are two excerpts.
from "Welcome to Watermelon Lake"
That's right, it's PINK! And what is more,you're sure to like the pale green shore,and how you feel so fresh and new—you’ll love it here, we promise you!But wait, there’s more! This place is sweet!We even have a little fleetof small black boats for summer fun—enough of them for everyone!
and from “Gingerbread House Makeover”And picture now a healthy house,admired from coast to coast,adorned with corn and carrot sticksand built of whole wheat toast…The radish roses near the walk,the grove of broccoli tree,the teeny-weeny doorknobs madeof bright green peas…”
Just makes you smile, doesn't it, starting the day with those tasty mouthfuls?! Puts me in mind of some foodily nonsense I experimented with years ago....
The Produce Cinquains
Kiwi: alien green inside, alien fuzz outside—fruit that will never look dewy. | Raisin: shrinking darkly, the grape adds its juices to the cloud of vapor on the ho- rizon. |
Oranges: thick skins heavy with Florida sunshine, so round that they resist being arranged. | Mango: no matter how you slice it, the flesh around its deceptively large stone gets mangled. |
Wax bean: its name alone is unappetizing— not to mention how it looks fake, lacks green. | Peaches: all of August’s sweet heat accumulates until the fruit dips within our reaches. |
Carrot: how can something that grows in the dark be as bright as the feathers of a parrot? | Cabbage: once a month I buy one, thinking coleslaw; three weeks later it goes in the garbage. |
| ~Heidi Mordhorst | ||
| all rights reserved | ||
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