Posts Tagged ‘poetry’
February and poetry go together like butter and bread. Valentine’s Day poems are especially appealing to elementary children if they are funny and read out loud. Other interactive poetry grabs attention and helps channel pent-up wiggles on these wintry days.
Poetry provides a valid link to literacy. According to Ontario’s Literacy and Numeracy Secretariat website:
- Poetry awakens our senses, helps us make connections to others, and leads us to think in synthesizing ways, as required by the use of metaphor.
- Paying attention to the language and rhythms of poetry helps build oral language skills.
- Children with well-developed oral language skills are more likely to have higher achievement in reading and writing.
Some Valentine’s Day poems to get you started.
I Love You More Than Applesauce
By Jack Prelutsky
I love you more than applesauce,
Than peaches and a plum,
Than chocolate hearts,
And cherry tarts,
And berry bubble-gum.
I love you more than lemonade,
And seven-layer cake,
Than lollipops,
And candy drops,
And thick vanilla shake.
I love you more than marzipan,
Than marmalade on toast;
For I love pies
Of any size,
But I love you the most.
Veggie Valentine
- Author Unknown
You may not “carrot” all for me
The way I care for you
You may “turnip” your nose
When I plead with you
But if your heart should “beet” with mine
Forever “lettuce” hope
There is no reason in the world
Why we two “cantaloupe.”
Making Valentines
- Author Unknown
In February, what shall I do?
I’ll make some valentines for you.
The first will have a cupid’s face;
The second will be trimmed with lace.
The third will have some roses pink;
The fourth will have a verse in ink.
The fifth will have a ribbon bow;
The sixth will glisten like the snow.
The seventh will have some lines I drew;
The eighth, some flowers – just a few.
The ninth will have three little birds;
The tenth will have three little words:
I LOVE YOU!
My Valentine Heart
- Author Unknown
When I say I love you (Point to lips)
It comes from my heart (Hand on heart)
You hear it in your ear (Point to ear)
And it sounds very smart (Point to head)
I love it when you’re proud of me (Stand real tall)
You say it all day long (Stretch arms wide)
And when I hear you say it (Point to ear)
My heart sings a merry song (Hand on heart)
I Made My Dog a Valentine
By Jack Prelutsky
I made my dog a valentine,
she sniffed it very hard,
then chewed on it a little while
and left it in the yard.
I made one for my parakeets,
a pretty paper heart,
they pulled it with their claws and beaks
until it ripped apart.
I made one for my turtle,
all he did was get it wet,
I wonder if a valentine
is wasted on a pet.
If you are looking for additional Valentine’s Day literature ideas, check out this extensive bibliography aimed at the elementary-age child – courtesy of the LRC/Sivia Center in Gainesville, Fla. Other illustrated poems for kids can be found in the poetry section on the children’s picture books website Big Universe.
For the past 18 years, I have given a special ornament to each of my children on Christmas Eve. Each trinket signifies something about their lives in the previous 12 months.
After almost two decades, we have a litany of stories and mementos hanging from metal hooks among the pine needles – ballet slippers, handprints, ponies, pianos and tokens from trips. It’s like a 3-D version of scrapbooking.
The first in this collection was a handcrafted moon with a little baby girl nestled in the lower curve of the star-bedecked crescent. The infant is asleep with her tummy facing down, her knees tucked in and her bottom poking up – my first-born’s position of choice when she snoozed.
Between that ornament and the lunar beauty on recent winter nights, I’ve had the moon on my mind. Last evening its light was so bright, it penetrated the curtains in my bedroom, leaving moon shadows on the floor.
On New Year’s Eve we will experience the second full moon this month – the celestial event known as a “blue moon.” The last time this occurred on a New Year’s Eve was 19 years ago in 1990 – two months before the birth of my first baby. The next one will ring in the new year in 2028.
This afternoon I heard my second daughter humming “Fly me to the moon. Let me sing among the stars.” So, it shouldn’t really have surprised me when the children’s book “In Every Moon There is a Face” caught my attention as I surfed Big Universe’s website for some of the latest additions on its virtual bookshelves.
While the book has been on the site for some time (480 others have read it) I somehow missed it. Its poetic verses were penned by renaissance man Charles Mathes, and his talented wife, Arlene Graston, gave the text wings with her fanciful paintings. Published by Illumination Arts, the book received the Gold Medal for Best Children’s Picture Book of the Year by Foreword Magazine.
I made the mistake of reading this book for the first time in the same way I would have recited the words to “If You Give a Mouse a Cookie” for the umpteenth time. When I finished, however, I knew I had missed the mark. I hit the Read Again tab and gave this book another shot.
The second time I read Mathes’ poem I set off at a gentler pace, using a softer voice appropriate for a lullaby or soothing bedtime story. I took my time as the text circled in a dream-like fashion and lingered to absorb the illustrations, which expanded the story with their intricate detail.
This time I savored the collaboration of text and art like a fine wine – instead of treating it like a Big Gulp from the corner 7-Eleven. This time I arrived at a different impression entirely! I invite you to give it a read, too.
Other Lunar Favs on My Mind:
- Van Morrison’s song “Moondance.”
- “Goodnight Moon” by Margaret Wise Brown.
- The 1987 Oscar-winning movie “Moonstruck.”
- Cat Steven’s song “MoonShadow.”
- Keith’s Moon Page trivia.
- Mobile, Alabama’s new year’s celebration. The city raises a 12-foot, lighted mechanical moonpie replica above the city at midnight. Think Times Square with a hint of marshmallow, graham cracker and chocolate.
Happy New Year! May you enjoy many hours of good reading in 2010 and a sprinkling of moon dust, too.
Posted on December 28, 2009 by Big Universe in Uncategorized.
Tags: balance, books in verse, children's authors, children's books, picture books, poetry, Shutta Crum, titles, working with editors, writing
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Sometimes we need a little imbalance in our lives to make us think about how to get centered again. Writing a picture book in verse is like that, too.
When writing in poetical stanzas (With all those good things that any picture book needs—characterization, setting, and a plot, for goodness sake!)the writer has an additional concern. That is, a sense of balance. Oftentimes we can sense imbalance but we are not quite sure why something doesn’t work.
For example, the magical number in most western literature is three. Tasks, bad luck, good luck, etc. come in threes. If this is violated, somewhere down deep we readers feel a bit uneasy. Things are not quite what they should be.
Most picture books are thirty-two pages in length. (Some are forty, or twenty-four; all are a number of pages that can be divided by 8.) Working with thirty-two pages, a writer of picture books has to be able to envision action for approximately 13 double spreads (26 pages), and two single pages (first right page and final left page). The remaining four pages are front and back matter.
The job for the verse writer of picture books is partly realizing how the stanzas, with or without a chorus, play across these pages in a balanced way so the reader feels, yes! This is right. Early in my writing career I wrote a book from which my editor wanted me to remove one stanza to get it into a 24 page format. But which one should I remove?
This manuscript also contained a repeated chorus at precise points in the story. In my mind it was designed like one might a beaded necklace. There was an opening, three strands (stanzas) of a certain rhyme pattern and rhythm, a chorus strand with a different rhyme and rhythm, three more of the basic strand, another chorus, three more of the basic, and then a closing. So the original pattern went: Opening, 3 stanzas, chorus, 3 stanzas, chorus, 3 stanzas, closing.
How could I remove just one and keep the whole thing working in a balanced way? Well . . . obviously, I had to remove the center stanza so the central strand of the basic pattern contained only two stanzas. Now my pattern was Open, 3, C., 2, C., 3, Close.
You might think at this point that I am being just too fussy. But am I? Certainly a reader sometimes is not aware of all the work a writer does behind the scenes to make a story flow as though it were effortless. However, if we jarred the reader rudely at a point in the flow—he/she would certainly feel it, even though the reader might not be exactly sure why it didn’t work for him/her.
For example, lets look closely at a title from a friend of mine’s manuscript (Hope Vestergaard) that recently sold to Candlewick: Digger, Dozer, Dumper. Obviously, this is a book of large machines for little readers. And the title is perfect. Why is that?
First, we have the very descriptive words that tell exactly what each machine does. Second, we have the wonderful alliteration so beloved in children’s books that helps the title just roll off our tongues. But there is more . . . a third thing. This is something an author would think about and deliberately design, something that just feels right.
Notice the vowels? Each one progresses down in tone and where they said in the mouth. The “i” is higher, said using the tongue up near the roof of the mouth. The “o” is said in the round chamber of the middle of one’s mouth, while the “u” is said more in the lower back of the mouth near the throat. It feels good in our mouths to say it. It’s memorable, it’s musical. It’s perfect!
Now you know a little about why I fume when someone comments, “Oh it must be so easy to write those books. They’re so short.” When this happens I grit my teeth and remark that often the things we love most in the world are short, but they are not easily written. Think of Robert Frost’s poem “Stopping by Woods,” Lincoln’s “Gettysburg Address,” or the 23rd Psalm.
The best writing is precise and balanced.
Here’s to the beginning of a new writing year! Happy Holidays, all!
Shutta
Gasp! The headline from the news feed grabbed my attention. “Copy of Poe’s First Book Sells for $662K in NYC,” it read.
During the Christmas season, it takes an intriguing headline to get me to slow down long enough to read something for fun. This one jumped out for three reasons.
First of all, it was about a book, and a bibliophile can’t pass by such a juicy hook. Second, it was about Edgar Allan Poe – a literary friend of mine from way back. And finally, $662,000 is a huge sum of money in New York – let alone Greenville, S.C.
The rare copy of Poe’s “Tamerlane and Other Poems” just sold at Christie’s auction house, “smashing the previous record price for American literature,” reported the Associated Press. “The previous record is believed to be $250,000 for a copy of the same book sold nearly two decades ago.”
The collection of poems was published in 1827, but only about four dozen were printed. So, it’s understandable why the 12 that still exist are highly valued. It mattered little that the auctioned 40-page volume was stained and tattered – traits that typically lower the value of antique and rare books.
I have some old children’s books that show distinct signs of wear and tear. They were from my childhood…and my mother’s and my grandmother’s before that. I have since shared them with my children. They include “Through a Looking Glass” by Lewis Carroll, “Hans Brinker” by Mary Mapes Dodge, “Heidi” by Johanna Spyri, “Pinocchio” by Carlo Collodi and umpteen fairytale books.
The page corners are dog-eared, and the spines are broken. The fonts are uneven, and the tape over the tears (a big no-no among collectors) is quite yellowed. But those books are dear to me. The inscriptions in the front link me to other book lovers in my family, women who gave them as special gifts to the girls in their lives more than a century ago.
While my books probably wouldn’t warrant a second glance by anyone at Christie’s, they are precious to me. Like Skin Horse told the Velveteen Rabbit, “Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off.”
“‘Real isn’t how you are made,’ said the Skin Horse.
’It’s a thing that happens to you.
When a child loves you for a long, long time,
not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real.’ ”
Today I watched a Nature special on Death Valley. One thread of the story involved a group of runners who ran the 120+ miles across the valley. They were accompanied by a support team that doused the runners with water and spritzed them with sun block as they ran in temperatures well above 100 degrees. It was grueling on their bodies. I wondered, what would possess an otherwise sane person to do such a thing?
Then I remembered that, oh yes, I’d run a similar marathon (of sorts) in April by participating in the 30 days/30 poems challenge to celebrate National Poetry Month. The idea was to write 30 poems over the course of the 30 days after getting a new prompt each day from Robert Lee Brewer, the Writer’s Digest blogger at Poetics Aside. However, at the time, this did not seem like that much of a challenge to me in that any old lines thrown together could count . . . whether those lines were any good, or not. And so, I upped the ante.
I challenged myself to writing 30 poems in 30 days using 30 different forms/styles for each one. Ok . . . so I wasn’t writing in 100+ degree temperatures here in Michigan in April, but I really sweated this challenge.
And I did have a “team.” My hubby would periodically grouse at me, “Aren’t you supposed to be writing a poem?” Occasionally he had to douse me with water when I fell asleep in front of the television in the evening, my pen and paper sliding from my slack hands. “You can do it!” he’d yell to my startled face. Then I’d whip my wet hair from my face and realign my thoughts on yet another poem before midnight.
Long before the 30 days were over—as I clenched my pen and struggled to create a villanelle, a sijo, a roundel, an ode—I knew I’d discovered yet another way to lose my reason. Why was I doing this to myself?
Why do we challenge ourselves? What do we get out of it? A sense of accomplishment? Bragging rights? Or just the pleasure of releasing cooped-up energy?
As far as energy goes . . . I’m not one of those kinds of people who have to be constantly active. Believe me; stretched out on the sofa, I can easily take several short naps all day long.
I am not at all like my sister whose hands shake if she isn’t busy doing at least four things at one time—like crocheting, planting dahlia tubers, playing cards, and changing the oil filter in her car. Really. (True story: Once, she decided to make everyone in the family a quilt for Christmas; her siblings, her kids, her nieces and nephews. These quilts would be either twin-sized or full-sized, depending upon whether the person was married. She made twenty-one quilts that year! A fully-accomplished challenge in itself. But here’s the kicker—when she sat down to wrap them, she discovered that she’d made one too many. One too many! How does one “accidently” make an extra quilt?) Believe me; I don’t have that kind of energy. No.
As far as a sense of accomplishment goes, sure. I’m proud that I did it. And I do feel like I have some ownership of the bragging rights. (I did invite others to join me in this heightened challenge. None did.)
But now, at a distance of more than a month, I truly see why I did it . . . I needed to make myself learn more about certain poetic techniques and forms. These were aspects of poetry I might not have otherwise found the time to study. In other words, it was some sort of writer’s survival mechanism that made me yank myself up off the couch and get cracking. I obviously was not going to do it on my own. (I’m not my sister.) I had to publicly declare myself, and I had to allow myself to be open to public defeat. The stakes had to be high.
That meant that I declared myself on my website, on Facebook, on Twitter. That meant posting my poems (even the bad ones written late at night with no revision—wince!), and blogging about my progress up until the bitter end.
It was truly mentally and physically taxing. Ok. I admit, maybe not to the degree of the long distance runner crossing Death Valley. Still . . . how many of them would face a sonnet at eleven o’clock at night with only an hour remaining? (And the theme that day was never–never doing something again.)
Why bring this up now as my first post for Big Universe? By accepting this blogging assignment again (I used to blog for B.U. before its latest incarnation.), I am once more publicly declaring myself. It will be a challenge to post regularly. And I am sure to learn a great deal about how to do this correctly.
And, I suppose, to do that I should have started off this first post with a quick introduction. About me: I am a children’s book author. My tenth book (THUNDER-BOOMER! Published by Clarion. Illustrated by Carol Thompson) is just out and has garnered three starred reviews thus far. Almost all my books have graced state award lists or the Bank Street College’s Best Children’s Books of the Year lists. I’m a retired children’s librarian and was awarded the Michigan Library Association’s Award of Merit as Michigan’s youth librarian of the year for 2002.
As you can imagine, the love of children’s books runs like blood through my veins. Therefore, I am so pleased to have been invited back to blog for Big Universe. I am proud of all it has done to promote the joy of reading and writing.
Until next time, remember to challenge yourself!
Shutta Crum
(BTW: Shutta Crum is my real name, not a pseudonym. Geesh! If I’d been thinking along the lines of pseudonyms, I’d have thought of a better one than Shutta. Nope. It was my Dad’s nickname, and my real name. If you want more information on me, or my books, check out my profile or my webpage at http://www.shutta.com.)
“I Love the Look of Words,” is a great introduction to the concept of metaphoric thinking. This elegant poem is suitable for students of all ages. Imagine this lesson:
The teacher walks in with a bag of popcorn freshly popped in the school microwave. The fragrance of popcorn floats into the air as the teacher begins reading:
Popcorn leaps, popping from the floor of a hot black skillet and into my mouth.
Black words leap, snapping from the white page…
As children hear the words of Maya Angelou, read emphatically by the teacher, children experience first hand the metaphor created in the poem. Angelou’s rich text fills the imaginations of the children as the smell of popcorn fills the air.
Once hooked, students are presented with a two-column chart: one titled “popcorn” and one titled “words.” The teacher asks, ” What is popcorn like? How can we describe it?”
As students contribute their thoughts, the teacher notes them on the chart, and then enlists the children’s help in describing “words.”
The teacher says, “In the poem, the poet compares popcorn and words. Let’s read the poem together and find out why she thinks that popcorn and words are similar.”
As the children and teacher read the poem together, the teacher adds the comparisons presented in the poem to the chart.
When the children are finished reading and their ideas have been recorded, the teacher can talk about poetic comparisons, similes and metaphors.
The teacher introduces a Venn Diagram, and enlists the students’ help in place “same” and “different” concepts in the appropriate places.
The lesson closes with another simile:
The children will read lines of the poem. The teacher assigns groups of children to read lines from the poem, and directs each group to practice its line until they can read it with expression.
“Now we will read like “popcorn.” As your turn to read comes up, please stand, popping up like popcorn!
The lesson ends as the children conclude an exciting rendition of Maya Angelou’s poem.
“I Love the Look of Words” is one of many wonderful poems in the book Soul Looks Back in Wonder, editied and illustrated by Tom Feelings.
Black Cat by Christopher Myers is an invitation for suburbanites to leave their quiet, tree-lined streets and for children living in urban settings to see their environment reflected in a strikingly beautiful book about a day in the life of a feral cat. Myers is the artist who was awarded a Caldecott Honor for his illustrations in his previous book, Harlem, and he received the Coretta Scott King Award for Black Cat.
“Black cat, black cat, cousin to the concrete, creeping down our city streets, where do you live, where will we meet?”
Poetic language and extraordinary collage and painted illustrations collaborate to reveal the beauty, light, shapes, and images of city streets. The descriptions of the black cat’s antics are exciting, dramatic, and compelling.
In and of itself, this books is a great choice for modeling effective writing and illustration to young authors in writer’s workshop. Black Cat is also perfectly suited to bring language experience to students who speak English as a second language or who have other language challenges.
A “prereading” view of the book, looking at just the pictures, along with prompted discussion, would give an adult the opportunity to bring forth vocabulary that labels locations, verbs, and facts about the city or the cat that are suggested by the illustrations. Once the language-learner has discussed the pictures, the adult is able to share the elegant poetry with the learner, who now has the background with which to discuss the images created by the extraordinary poetic language.
Lastly, Black Cat is a book to be enjoyed by people of all ages, and to remind us that there is beauty and wonder everywhere!
As a teacher or parent, one can make use of the genre of poetry to “hook” children into studying words. We seize upon opportunities created by skillful writers and pull from their writing patterns that can inspire our children to experiment with patterns of words on their own.
Although there are many kinds of poetry, some making use of patterns more than others, patterns of different kinds are the anchor pin of poetry. Students of all levels and skills sets are able to create rich and beautiful, emotive and descriptive poetry as we expose them to observing patterns in the words around them.
We often think of rhyme as a key component of poetry. Unfortunately, students can become locked in the expectation that subsequent lines of poetry rhyme with the line preceding. While end of the line rhymes do identify some kinds of poetry, the goal of rhyming lines can force children’s writing to become stilted. By shifting the rhyme to the beginning of the line, the writer is free to end the thought created with words that convey significant meaning.
A Weed is a Seed by Ferida Wolff uses patterns of rhymes at the beginning of the line as well as a complex six-line pattern.
“A weed is a seed that
Just doesn’t belong in the
Place it happens to grow.
But a weed can be feed
For a cold hungry mouse
Digging out of the wintry snow.”
Although Wolff’s poetry completes the rhyme of the third line in the sixth line, the budding poet is free to use the first half of the pattern Wolff created in the first half of her stanza. More advanced students can try the six line pattern.
As a teacher, after sharing the poetry found in the book by Wolff, one would create a “word bank” of words that rhyme. The teacher would create a heading for each column suggested by students with the word root of the rhyme; words that utilize the rhyme would be listed below. Once students have a word bank for reference they are free to combine rhyming words in the following pattern, with rhyming words placed on the blank lines:
A _______________is a ________________ that…
More advanced writers can complete the pattern by placing the next pattern after the first with the next two missing words rhyming with the first and lines three and six rhyming:
But a ____________is a _____________…
Poetry of this kind works well for parents at home eager to support their child’s literacy skills. Rather than “writing” poetry, the parent “plays poetry.” While parent and child stroll through the neighborhood, zoo or other environment, parent and child play with the patterns in Wolff’s book. The ground is laid by reading the book several times until the rhyming patterns are ingrained in the minds of parent and child. When the mood fits, the parent (or child!) is free to utilize the pattern while observing nature or other fascinating environmental items and events.
“ A bear has hair
That can let you know where it lives.”
“ A star is far away
but looks like a sparkling diamond in the sky.”
The only rule in this lesson is: have fun!
