That Reminds Me I was sitting by a stream When I saw a grasshopper hop from a rock And land on the...
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Transcript of That Reminds Me I was sitting by a stream When I saw a grasshopper hop from a rock And land on the...
That Reminds Me I was sitting by a stream When I saw a grasshopper hop from a rockAnd land on the other sideAnd it reminded me of how we used to jumpAcross the puddles in the drivewayAfter a summer rain-Except the grasshopper didn’t get all wet-And didn’t get the giggles. I was sitting on the porchWhen I saw a squirrel in the weeping willow treeVaulting through the airTo anther limbAnd it reminded me of how we used to tie ourselvesInto the lows branches of that treeAnd runAnd swingUp off the groundWe were like flying squirrels I was lying on my back in the grassWhen I saw a maple leaf fall off a high branchAnd float in the windOut past the top of my headAnd it reminded me of the time our kite string brokeAnd the kite soared out over the top of the hillAnd we never saws it again I still think about that old kite And it reminds me of you• -Will Mowery• •
Walking With My Iguana.I’m walkingwith my iguana
I’m walkingwith my iguana
When the temperature risesto above eighty-five,my iguana is lookinglike he’s coming alive.
So we make it to the beach,my iguana and me,then he sits on my shoulderas we stroll by the sea. . .
and I’m walkingwith my iguana
Well if anyone sees uswe’re a big surprise,my iguana and meon our daily exercise,
till somebody phonesthe local policesays I’ve got an alligatortied to a leash.
when I’m walkingwith my iguana
I’m walkingwith my iguana
It’s the spines on his backthat make him look grim,but he just loves to be tickledunder his chin.
And I know that my iguanais ready for bedwhen he puts on his pyjamasand lays down his sleepy head.
And I’m walkingwith my iguana
still walkingwith my iguana
With my iguanawith my iguanaand my piranhaand my Chihuahuaand my chinchilla,with my gorilla,my caterpillar…and I’m walking…with my iguana…with my iguana…with my iguana…
• You can hear it at this website.• http://www.poetryarchive.org/poetryarchive/singlePoem.do?poemId=52
• Pencil Sharpener• By Zoe Ryder White• • I think there are a hundred bees• inside the pencil sharpener• and they buzz• and buzz• and buzz• until my point is sharp!• • Ceiling• By Zoe Ryder White• • The ceiling• is the sky• for the classroom
• Bear In There by Shel Silverstein• There's a Polar Bear
In our Frigidaire--He likes it 'cause it's cold in there.With his seat in the meatAnd his face in the fishAnd his big hairy pawsIn the buttery dish,He's nibbling the noodles,He's munching the rice,He's slurping the soda,He's licking the ice.And he lets out a roarIf you open the door.And it gives me a scareTo know he's in there--That Polary BearIn our Fridgitydaire.
Crickets, Valerie WorthCrickets
TalkIn the tall
GrassAll
Late summerLong.When
SummerIs gone,The dryGrass
WhispersAlone.
Some lovely small poems by Valerie Worth:chairsChairs
SeemToSit
DownOn
Themselves, almost as ifThey were people,
Some fat, some thin;Settled comfortablyOn their own seats,
Some even stretch out their armsTo
Rest.
.sun
The sunIs a leaping fire
Too hotTo go near,
But it will stillLie down
In warm yellow squaresOn the floor
Like a flatQuilt, where
The cat can curlAnd purr.
he Poem that Got Away–By Felice HolmanThere I was and in it came
Through the fogbank of my brainFrom the fastness of my soulShining like a glowing coal –
The nearly perfect poem!
Oh, it may have needed justAn alteration here or there—
A little tuck, a little seamTo be exactly what I mean –
The really perfect poem
I’ll write it later on, I said,The idea’s clear and so’s my head.
This pen I have is nearly dry.What I’ll do now is finish this pie,
Then on to the perfect poem!
With pen in hand quite full of inkI try not to recall.
I’ve plenty of time in which to thinkBut the poem went down the kitchen sink
With the last of the perfect pie.
safety pinValerie Worth
Closed, it sleepsOn its side
Quietly,The silver
ImageOf some
Small fish;Opened, it snaps
Its tail outLike a thin
Shrimp,and looks
At the sharpPoint with a
Surprised eye
DANDELION - by Valerie WorthOut of
Green space,A sun:
Bright forA day, burning
Away toA husk, a
Cratered moon:Burst
In a weekTo dust:Seeding
The infinitieLawn withIts starry
Smithereens.
Spring SeedsBy: Douglas Florian
Spring Seeds
We tilled the earth,
Took out the weeds,
Then in the soil
Planted seeds:
Pumpkin,
Parsely,
Carrot,
Pea,
Spring succeeds ex-seed-ing-ly.
• Baseball Cards #1• BY JIM DANIELS• One
of the 10,342 baseball cards in my parents’ atticsneezes in the dampness, rememberssweaty hands.
• He calls to me across hundreds of miles:• Remember me, Jake Wood, 1964, 2nd base, Detroit Tigers,
Series 2, No. 272?• He wants to stretch his legs, climb out
from between Wilbur Wood and the 4th Series Checklistwants to outsail all the other cardsin a game of farthies, float downon Jose Tartabull in a game of tops.He wants to smell like fresh from the packwants to be perfumed againwith the pink smell of bubble gum.
October Saturday
All the leaves have turned to cornflakes.It looks as if some giant’s baby brotherhad tipped the boxand scattered them upon our lawn-millions and millions of cornflakes-crunching, crunching under our feet.When the wind blows,they rattle against each other,nervously chattering.
We rake them into piles-Dad and I.Piles and piles of cornflakes!A breakfast for a whole family of giants!We do not talk much as we rake-A word here-A word there.The leaves are never silent.
Inside the house my mother is packingShort sleeved shirts and faded bathing suits-Rubber clogs and flippers-In a box marked SUMMER.
We are rakingDad and I.
Bobbi Ka
Inside My Heart by Zoe Ryder White
Inside my heart livesone birthday party
two jazz bandsthree wrestling puppies
four dancing birdsfive laughing babies
six blasting spaceshipsseven lucky fireflies and
a sky full of stars
• Falling Leaves• by Jack Prelutsky• Little leaves fall softly down
Red and yellow, orange and brownWhirling, twirling round and roundFalling softly to the ground
• Little leaves fall softly downTo make a carpet on the ground.Then, swish, the wind comes whistling byAnd sends them dancing to the sky.
When the Roses Revolted When the Roses RevoltedThe roses were fed up. They were sick sick sick of being symbols for love. One night they revolted, crept out of flower shops, jumped out of windows and touched the dirt! They spent that night drinking real night air, carousing with clover, boogying with bluebells, dancing with dandelions, and in this way they rediscovered their roots. ~ Ralph Fletcher
Fog by Carl Sandburg
The fog comeson little cat feet.
It sits looking
over harbor and cityon silent haunches and then moves on.
Some one by Walter De la Mare.
Some one came knockingAt my wee, small door;
Someone came knocking;I'm sure-sure-sure;I listened, I opened,
I looked to left and right,But nought there was a stirring
In the still dark night;Only the busy beetle
Tap-tapping in the wall,Only from the forest
The screech-owl's call,Only the cricket whistlingWhile the dewdrops fall,
So I know not who came knocking,At all, at all, at all.
DREAMS by Langston HughesHold fast to dreams
For if dreams dieLife is a broken-winged bird
That cannot fly.Hold fast to dreamsFor when dreams goLife is a barren fieldFrozen with snow.
The Tree On The Cornerby Lilian MooreI’ve seen the tree on the corner in spring budand summer green.Yesterdayit was yellow gold.Then a coldwind began to blow. Now I know – you really do not seea tree until you seeits bones.
PAPER CLIPSBy Rebecca Kai Dotlich
With tiny teethof tin
they takeone slender
breathbefore they make
a move,and then ---
a silver pinch!With jawsno bigger
than an inchthese dragon grips
are small and slight ---but
conquer pageswithonebite!
Foghornsby Langston HughesThe foghorns moaned
in the bay last night so sad so deepI thought I heard the city crying in its sleep
•
CityIn the morning the city
Spreads its wingsMaking a song
In stone that sings.In the evening the city
Goes to bedHanging lights About its head.
Langston Hughes
April Rain SongBY LANGSTON HUGHESLet the rain kiss you.Let the rain beat upon your head with silver liquid drops.Let the rain sing you a lullaby.
The rain makes still pools on the sidewalk.The rain makes running pools in the gutter.The rain plays a little sleep-song on our roof at night—
And I love the rain.
Who has seen the windWho has seen the wind?
Neither I nor you; But when the leaves hang trembling
The wind is passing through. Who has seen the wind?
Neither you nor I; But when the trees bow down their heads
The wind is passing by.
• My Baby Brother
My baby brother is so small, he hasn't even learned to crawl. He's only been around a week, and all he seems to do is bawl and wiggle, sleep . . . and leak.
Hold Fast to Dream by Langston Hughes
Hold fast to dreams,For if dreams dieLife is a broken-winged birdThat cannot fly.
Hold fast to dreams,For when dreams goLife is a barren fieldFrozen with snow.
Safety Pin by Valerie WorthClosed, it sleeps
On its sideQuietly,
The silverImage
Of someSmall fish;
Opened, it snapsIts tail outLike a thin
Shrimp,and looks
At the sharpPoint with a
Surprised eye
City Child by Lois Lenski
The sidewalk is my yard,The lampost is my tree.Up three long flights of stairs,My home is Flat 4C.
• THIS TOOTH\• by Lee Bennett Hopkins
I jiggled itjaggled itjerked it.
I pushedand pulledand poked it.
But--
As soon as I stoppedand left it alone,This tooth came outon its very own!
In AutumnFannie Montgomery
They're coming down in showers,The leaves all gold and red;
They're covering the little flowers,And tucking them in bed.
They've spread a fairy carpetAll up and down the street;
And when we skip along to school,They rustle 'neath our feet.
• Closing Day Thought
I wonder if our schoolbooksare lonely all the dayWhile through the long vacationin cupboards put away? I wonder if the blackboardseems rather out of placeWithout a single piece of chalkto mark upon its face? I wonder if the schoolroomis sometimes lonely, tooWhile standing bare and emptywithout a thing to do? But this we can assure them.When summer days all fleeWe'll join them in Septemberand keep them company.-Leland B. Jacobs
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy EveningBY ROBERT FROSTWhose woods these are I think I know. His house is in the village though; He will not see me stopping here To watch his woods fill up with snow.
My little horse must think it queer To stop without a farmhouse near Between the woods and frozen lake The darkest evening of the year.
He gives his harness bells a shake To ask if there is some mistake. The only other sound’s the sweep Of easy wind and downy flake.
The woods are lovely, dark and deep. But I have promises to keep, And miles to go before I sleep, And miles to go before I sleep.
• The Road Not Taken• Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel bothAnd be one traveler, long I stoodAnd looked down one as far as I couldTo where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, as just as fair,And having perhaps the better claimBecause it was grassy and wanted wear,Though as for that the passing thereHad worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally layIn leaves no step had trodden black.Oh, I marked the first for another day!Yet knowing how way leads on to wayI doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sighSomewhere ages and ages hence:Two roads diverged in a wood, and I,I took the one less traveled by,And that has made all the difference.
• Robert Frost