How to use this Page

We've had electric problems in our building all week so I'm having a diminished web presence problem. Sorry, folks. However, I leave you with this sonnet from Dave P, who gets special points because he wrote it for fun long after the contest was over. Thanks, Dave! Sonnet by Dave P I like you, I really, really like you! I usually disregard the 'osphere But for something that catches the eye

Thanks for this sonnet, Paula. I laughed a lot when I read it, although I then did rather wish I had a case of gin, too. Museless My muse went out to get a pack of smokes This hasn’t helped me peck out artful verse If muses are a myth or just a hoax Then why’s my writing getting worse and worse? Bad news for you, poor literary guard ‘Cuz you’re the one who has to read this shit I

Another awesome one... Thanks, Merry. Ode To Moonrat Moonrat's a blogger that propels my muse Though non-writers will think me quite perverse For that sparkly tee shirt that I can use And bloggy glory makes me pen this verse. Manuscript of Doom made her spit and swear But her work day lightened with Robert's gems From her time as ASS readers grew to care Search engine phrasing made us need

Paula wrote two very excellent sonnets for me. I'm putting up this one first, because it's about pee, and is, I think, precisely what we need on a Wednesday morning. Bonus points for making a rhyme out of "ass." Ode to a Commode She asks for prose that makes her crow and squirt She thumbs her nose at toilet and bidet The one who makes her tinkle gets a shirt So who the heck is Robert

Kudos to Ello for not only mimicking Shakespeare but managing to quote heftily from Robert in the process! Sonnet by Ello Based in part off of Shakespeare's Sonnet 100 Ode from Robert Where art thou, Moonrat, that thou forget'st so long The random author shenanigans that Creates this worthless song. Remember, I was supposed to touch trees Express feelings of low testosterone But sucking

Good morning!! Start it off with this fabulous sonnet by Precie. Bonus points awarded for Shakespearian mimicry. Shakespeare's Sister Moon by Precie Shall I compare you to a city street? You are more lively, vibrant, brilliant. Shall I compare you to a piece of meat? Your words are far more filling masticant. Shall I compare you to the sun so bright? Your wisdom glows and glitters

Days spent in wrangling reams of turgid text, The lovely Moonrat wastes her youthful bloom, Quite lost in penniless, unlaundered gloom; By boss’s obscure whims she’s sore perplexed, By obstinate designer cruelly vexed, Entombed in her untidy little room To grapple with the Manuscript of Doom; So ill-paid, unregarded, undersexed. And yet her colleagues aren’t entirely mad; The work gets

I wrote two poems this week. One of them you can see here, at the crazy-fun "15 words or less" challenge that Laura Purdie Salas hosts each week. The other was the first sonnet in the crown of sonnets that I'm creating with Kelly Fineman, Laura Purdie Salas, TadMack from Finding Wonderland, cloudscome from a wrung sponge, Liz Garton Scanlon, and Tricia from The Miss Rumphius Effect. You can't see it yet, because we're going to unveil all seven sonnets at once and charge admission! No, not really, but we do want to present them together, so you can wear the crown with all its viewpoints and experience its corona as "many lights as one."

I wrote my sonnet curled up on the couch on the Friday after Thanksgiving. Some things I discovered:

1. Pie is very inspirational.

2. Trust the first image that comes to you, no matter how crazy. For me, it was shoelaces.

3. You are the boss of rhyme. It is not the boss of you. Didn't your momma tell you that?

4. Sonnets aren't extinct for a reason. They're hardy, and won't die in your rough care. They're like the giant bear of an uncle who lets all the little kids pile on in football.

5. Second helpings of pie are even more inspirational.

6. So are long walks.

7. Iambic pentameter is your favorite aunt talking. She's easy to listen to, and she can count cards and make you look good when she's your Euchre partner after dinner. And she brought the pie, so thank her.

8. The sonnet form will hold your thoughts, but like a shopping bag, you have to open it up and dump stuff in. Later, you take take out your purchases, one by one, and see what fits.

9. Don't be fooled. Not everything fits. Return the baggy sweater. If you're not sure about the pleather pants you found on sale, ask your sister. She'll tell you. (Or Liz, my poetry sister!)

10. Sonnets are better than pie. I hate to say that, but the pie is all gone. The sonnets are just getting started.

William Shakespeare’s birthday is said to be today. He is captured beautifully in words and pictures in Bard of Avon (Morrow, 1992), the nonfiction picture book biography by Diane Stanley and Peter Vennema. One of my favorite parts of that book is the wonderful endnote detailing his unique coining of words such as “hint,” “excellent,” “lonely,” and “hurry.” And of course we also associate Shakespeare with the poetic form of the sonnet. It's a form that some of today’s poets who write for children have also tackled.

One of my favorite examples is Helen Frost’s Printz Award honor book, Keesha’s House (Farrar, Straus & Giroux, 2003) which incorporates both sonnets and sestinas. It’s the story-through-poems (remember novels in verse on April 19?) of a motley group of teenagers who each find themselves at a crisis point in their lives and come together at Joe’s house, a welcoming place for kids who aren’t welcome or safe in their own homes. The central character, a strong survivor named Keesha, is the catalyst for each teenager finding this safe haven, thus the book’s title. The various points of view make for compelling reading, with perspectives shifting as the story is pieced together through sonnets and sestinas. It is also an excellent audiobook read in multiple voices (Recorded Books, 2004). Here’s just one sampling of a sestina (and it happens to be set in the library and you know how I like poems about the library!):

Do Not Leave Children Unattended
Harris
by Helen Frost

After school and on weekends I go to the library
and do my homework or listen
to music. I brush my teeth, wash my hair,
and, a couple of times a week, I shave. They have
a private sink in one of the handicap stalls.
Sometimes I go in the youth section and sign

up to play computer games. There’s a sign
in there: DO NOT LEAVE CHILDREN UNATTENDED IN THE LIBRARY.
I know there’s younger kids than me who use the sink in that stall
like I do. I keep my eye on them. I try to listen
to adults that talk to them, especially in the rest room. Last week, I had
something creepy happen when I was combing my hair.

A guy made a comment about my gorgeous red hair,
which is nothing new. But right after that—the first sign
of something weird—he asked if he could have
a picture of me. I got out of there fast. When the library
was about to close, he left the same time I did. Hey, listen,
he said, you need a ride somewhere? I said, No, thanks, stalled

for time until he left. The next day, I came out of the stall
and he was in the rest room combing his hair.
He said something to me, but I didn’t stay to listen.
Now I watch every move he makes. If I ever see a sign
that he’s messing with one of the kids that hang out in the library,
I’ll—well, I don’t know what I’ll do, but I know I’d have

to help. I guess I’d act casual, like I had
some reason to be there—but I’d stall
around and eavesdrop till he left the kid alone. The library
should be a safe place, and if a kid needs a place to comb his hair,
just let him be. Hey! I finally got a job. I’m going to sign
the paperwork this afternoon. I have to listen

to a tape about dishwashing safety. That’s funny! I’ve listened
to my mother harp on that stuff all my life. Like—you have
to scrub the cutting board. Use bleach or boiling water. There’s a sign
in the rest room—in fact, there’s one in every stall—
reminding us employees to wash our hands. We have to use hair
nets if we get anywhere near food. The librarians

won’t be seeing so much of me now. That’s a good sign. I’ll have
a bathroom I can use at work, and I’ll just use the library stall
to wash my hair. I’ll listen to music while it dries.

from Frost, Helen. Keesha’s House. (Farrar, Straus & Giroux, 2003)

Other poets who have written sonnets for young people include:
J. Patrick Lewis
Alice Schertle
Myra Cohn Livingston
Naomi Shihab Nye
Jane Yolen

Picture credit: search.barnesandnoble.com