Good to be Home

My Welsh Springer Spaniel
follows me from room to room
he circles like a cat
licks my ankles
bumps my thighs
he glares at me
waiting for a head scratch.

If I'd let him
he'd happily sit
in my lap.


He does not want
to let me go.
It takes a while
for him to do
his three turns,
and then plop belly down
to sleep on the rug
at my feet.

He shows me
he is happy
to have us all
home.

Travel

Over cities

and mountains

over plains

over rivers

to oceans

I'm flying

in an airplane.

    Today's challenge is to write a list poem about all the places you have traveled, or use your imagination and write about all the magic places you'd like to visit.

Seashell

Find a seashell
hold it to your ear.
What do you hear?
The Sea?

When I hold a shell
what I hear
is a honky-tonk piano
playing
in the key
of middle sea.

At the Beach

Walking on the sand

what a good way

for the day

to begin--

watching the waves

rolling in.

This is the way

each day

should start

and end.

Peanuts

I like to eat peanuts,

roasted brown.

I crack the shell

and look what

I've found,

salty and tasty--

crunch, crunch

munch, munch

I'm a peanut

nutty hound.

Chairs

I thought I'd try that counting exercise again
myself.


A little chair
sat unpon the floor.
He turned around,
now there are
one,     two,     three,     four.

DOLPHINS

One, two, three
gray dolphins
(counting, hold up three fingers)
glad to be alive,
(make swimming motions with arms)
deep in the ocean,
(bend over, hands stretching toward floor)
down they dive.
(squat)

Three gray dolphins
(hold up three fingers)
swimming in the sea,
(make swimming motions)
up they jump,
(arms stretch high over head)
One, two, three.
(jump three times)

     Oh, I had fun writing this action rhyme.  So this is today's challenge.  Write your own action rhyme.  Close you eyes for a moment, when you open them write your rhyme about the first thing you see.  I actually tried this and here is what I came up with:

One television set
(hold up one finger)
feeling sad and blue.
(use a finger to outline a frown on your face)
He turned around
(turn around)
and then there were two.
(hold up two fingers)
(Or you could start with one child being the TV and have a second child join him.)

Palms in the Wind

Tropical

palm

leaves

bend 

in the wind

like

hands

coming

together

to

pray.

Please,

save us

from

hurricanes.

Clouds

The clouds

look heavy

and sad.

blue

gray

black

The clouds

look

so

unhappy

I think

they are

going

to cry.

SURPRISE!

I have a special cookie.

It has its own surprise.

It is a fortune cookie,

The fortune rests inside.

     Have you ever made fortune cookies?  If you like writing haiku, it is fun to write them on small pieces of paper to slip inside the cookies.  Today's challenge is to write a fortune to put inside a cookie.

Your mother's smile shines

upon you all the day long--

sunshine happiness

 

SWEET SUGAR!

Sugar, Sugar,

Sugar Cookie!

You're the sweetest one.

Sugar, Sugar,

Sugar Cookie!

You are so much fun.

Count your fingers.

1     2     3     4     5     6     7     8     9     10.

Count your toes.

10   9     8     7     6     5     4     3     2     1.

Count your sweet little nose.

1.

Sugar, Sugar

Sugar Cookie!

You're the sweetest one.

(Tickle baby's tummy.)

     I thought I was done with cookie poems, but then two more came along to bite me.  They wouldn't let me go until I wrote them.  That is how poems are sometimes.  When my sister and I were young we used to count Whoops Willie on the tops of our fingers.  "Willie, Willie, Willie, Willie, whoops Willie, whoops Willie, Willie, Willie, Willie."  The whoops were that space between thumb and fore finger.  I have no idea where the game came from, but we did have fun doing it.  Like a tongue twister, we tried to say it over and over, faster and faster without twisting our tongues and messing up.  Today's poem is meant to be recited to a very young child.  Can you write your own counting poem?  Have a fun time.

Christmas Cookies

The cookies

I love the best

are one

my family makes,

the fattigmann

and krumkaka

at Christmas time

we bake.

     Does your family make Christmas cookies?  In my house we make Norwegian cookies, because my husband's mother and his grandmother did.  It is a family tradition we carry on.  Making the cookies takes lots of eggs and butter, and a lot of time.  But it is all worth it to have cookies to share with visitors during the holiday season.  I have a big red and white Farmer John lard tin that I store the cookies in.  The krumkaka is like a pancake that takes a special pan for making pretty designs on the horn shaped cookies.  The fattigmann also has a special cookie cutter to make diamonds with ruffly edges.  If you have special cookies for your holidays, perhaps you'd like to write a poem about it.  Enjoy.

© 2011, Joy Acey

Graham Cracker

May I have milk,

to dip my

graham cracker?

When it drips 

on my chin

it's a real

LIP-SMACKER!

     Have you ever looked closely at the holes and indentations in a graham cracker?  How many are there?

Are they all the same?  How are they different?  Why are there holes in a graham cracker?  If you could travel inside one of those holes, what do you think it would be like?  Who eats graham crackers?  What is your favorite kind of cracker?  Share your poem with me.  Have fun writing today.

© 2011, Joy Acey

Gingersnap

I 

like

my 

ginger

with 

a snap

M U N C H,

                     M U N C H --

gingersnap!

     I like how when I take a bite out of my gingersnap, what is left looks like a mouth that can snap up things like the old PACMAN characters snapped up energy pellets.  If you had a gingersnap, what would it snap up?  Would your gingersnap eat your Goldfish crackers?  Aren't I being silly?  But that is the fun of writing poetry.  Writing about cookies is something very young children can do because usually a cookie is a positive image for them.  Each cookie has a story that can become a poem.  Now, cookies are something to write a poem about.  Try it.

© 2011, Joy Acey

Oatmeal Cookies

Eating

oatmeal cookies

is very nice.

I love

the raisins

and the added spice.

With cinnamon,

cloves,

and allspice too,

One is not enough.

Will you 

give me two?

Perhaps,

three 

will do.

     I'm still having fun with cookies, I hope you are too.  Cookies are exciting to write poems about because they all look different.  Some make wonderful sounds when you eat them.  Of course cookies have lovely smells and the taste and texture on your tongue is something to write poems about.  So pick your favorite cookie, eat one or two while you think of just the right words for your poem.  Enjoy.

© 2011, Joy Acey

Oreo Cookies

Oreos, Oreos,

you know how it goes.

You twist them apart,

yes, that's the trick.

There's the frosting

waiting 

to be

licked.

© 2011 Joy Acey

Chocolate Chip Cookies

What do you say 

about chocolate chips?

Don't you love 

those chocolatey bits?

They melt in your mouth,

they melt on your lips.

Who can pass up

those chocolate chips?

NOT ME!

© 2011 Joy Acey

Peanut Butter Cookies

I like eating

peanut butter cookies.

They really are so fine.

Their cross hatched markings

are made from a fork tine.

I love the feel

of those bits

upon my tongue,

eating peanut butter cookies

is yummy, yummy fun.

Even my dog,

he wants one.

    

© 2011 Joy Acey

Cookies!

I like cookies

     of every shape

          and kind.

From a box

     or batch,

          cookies blow my mind!

     I started playing with the idea of writing a list poem about all the different cookies I like, but then it got to be too long, so I thought I'd try to make this cookie week.  What is your favorite cookie?  Does your family have special cookies you make?  Can you write your own cookie poem? 

© 2011 Joy Acey

Power Outage!

Last night we had
a huge storm
and now I am all forlorn.
the power is out
oh what can I do
to get this poem
posted for you?

After a long
powerless night
I awoke this morning
and still didn't have light.

So I'm off for cofee
and to think of my plight.

Here there is power,
in the brew of Starbucks.
They're the ones
who've improved my luck.
So I send this poem
using Starbuck electricity
and ask for forgiveness
for poem lameness and duplicity.


     The one thing I promised myself when I started this blog with the intent of posting a poem a day, was that I would give myself permission to write some bad poems along the way.  So today you're getting one of those not so great poems because I haven't had time to think poetry, I've been thinking basic survival.  Like, how long will my refrigerator last without power?  What is in there, anyway?  It seems like every time I turn around I'm starting to do something that requires power and I end up thinking I'm really stupid not to remember.  And since I live on a road with only 4 houses, I know we're going to be one of the last places to get power back. Last night as I was lying in bed reading by candle light I wondered if this was some terrorist plot, and how would I know.  How did you find out the Twin Towers had been bombed?
Hopefully by tomorrow everything will be back to normal.  Have a great Sunday. 
I will try to have time to think of a better poem for you for tomorrow.

Mr. Grasshopper

Mr. Grasshopper hopped,
                              hopped
                                 along his way.

He hopped,
         hopped by me
                  on my walk today.

He opened his wings

       And off he flew.

Good Bye, Mr. Grasshopper,

      And Good Bye to you.


      Did you meet someone today that you had to say good bye to?  Can you write your own poem about that?  Perhaps you'd like to try writing a Good Bye to Summer poem. 

THE FLEA

THE FLEA

Fredrick, a flea who was tiny but bold.

Awoke one morning with the world's worst cold.

His nose was drippy; his eyes were red!

He thought he'd spend the day in bed.

He wrapped a muffler round his scratchy throat.

Then he cuddled in his wooly-warm coat.

It wasn't an overcoat, or an anorak

But the spotted fur from my spaniel Mack.

As Fredrick snuggled,

he wiggled,

he twitched.

And all Mack could do—

SCRATCH, SCRATCH—

was itch.

I Want to Be

I want to be a silver back gorilla
so I can thump my fists
upon my chest.

I want to be an Italian gelato
so I can drip
upon your hand.

I want to work
in a French perfume factory
so I can smell the scents of spring.

I want to be a bottle nose dolphin
so I can swim and dive
in the ocean.

I want to be a goldfinch
so I can sing
a song for you.

I want to be a mirror
so I can show
you your smile.

But I can't,
so I guess I'll just have to be
happy to be me
and lucky to have you
for my friend.

Rainbows

I wish I was a rainbow
to arc
across the sky.

I wish I was a rainbow
with my colors
flying high.

I wish I was a rainbow
offering hope
in a pot of gold.

I wish I was a rainbow
with Roy G. Biv colors
bright and bold.

I wish I was a rainbow
to shine
after misty rains.

I wish I was a rainbow
so folks would
point at me and shout
Look, a rainbow
has come out.

      If you could be anything what would you chose?  If you could pretend to be an animal, which one would it be?  Why?  Can you think of at least 4 reasons?  How many of your senses can you use in your reasons?  Now try writing your poem with the repeating line, "I wish I was...."

Long Tailed Brush Lizard

For about an hour today

as the sun set

before dusk

I watched a lizard

climb rocks

in my yard.

He, no bigger than my pinkie

jumped from rock to rock.

Now he does push ups,

raises his belly

and I can see his throat

pump like a bellows.

He turns his head,

he eyes me,

lifts his tail

as if scenting the air.

He swings his tail

over the edge of the rock

like a yoyo string

catching and releasing

the rough surface.

I watch him

catch small black ants

skimming the rock.

His jaws move up and down.

Just as the cicadas

start their next round

of buzzing

he throws himself down

flat onto the sandstone

and pretends to be

an ancient fossil.

When the buzzing stops

he picks himself up

leaps to the next rock

and the next

and then out of sight.

Perhaps you think

I've wasted

a good evening hour

but I ask you,

how did you spend

your twilight hour?

Family Poem

STILL

Mama took me home to the Appalachians,

where her parents had a place near Valle Crucis,

off the road at Mast's General Store

up around the mountain.

I slept on a cot next to Mama.

In the middle of the night, I remember

waking to wander into the woods

walked until I found them at work.

Grandpappy sat in his ladderback rocker,

telling George when to add more wood to the fire.

I curled up in his lap and listened

to the quiet whoosh of owl wings

the piercing screech of a squirrel caught for dinner,

and the owl call -- Who cooks for you?

as he searched for a mate to share his meal.

I held my breath, waiting for her answer….

Grandpappy rocked in rhythm and told

stories about all my relations,

as the crystal liquid hissed and sizzled

dripping from the copper worm--

A cider moon grew large overhead,

shaking shadows from the trees.

In the morning, I'd wake on my little cot,

covered by a family quilt.

I'd look for proof of the night's reality

and find only warmth from kinfolk

guiding every step of my dirty feet.

I once had the pleasure of meeting the world famous storyteller Ray Hicks who lived in the mountains of North Carolina in a cabin without electricity.  He talked to me about the importance of saving family stories.  His life was certainly different from mine and so this poem is a combination of my memories and his life.  Can you write a poem about an incident in your family? 

Weird Words!

Yo! Loco, loco,

the dog played the oboe!

The hippo dug deep in the lake.

The big old cat sighed

and shut her eyes

while the hummingbirds

stole birthday cakes.

     This poem is absolute nonsense.  It is what I ended up with when I tried writing a Poetry Obscura poem using Hey, Diddle, Diddle as the starting point.  Since the first line is nonsense words, I used reverse rhyming.  You could pick any musical instrument then make up a nonsense word to rhyme with it.  The nonsense word should have the same number of syllables as the musical instrument.  Can you make your own list on musical instruments and nonsense words that rhyme?  For instance:
Trumpet=blumpet, blumpet
violin=gungadin, gungadin
cymbal=thimble, thimble
piano= me and yo, me and yo
   Try this and see what you can come up with.  Go crazy. Be bold.  But what ever you do, have fun. 

Father Mole's Bed

Young Father Mole

dug deep in his hole

so he could sleep

way down below

in his earthly bungalow.

Father Mole had no bed

he used a dirt pillow

for his head.

He'd snuggle there

and with his 26 children

standing guard

keeping warm 

wasn't hard.

He had only daughters

there were no sons,

some girls were pretty

some just handsome.

Off to the market

the girls went

one day

to buy Dad a bed,

but on their way

they met a peddler

with beds in a stack

so they bought

a green bed

and took it back.

"Thanks," said Father Mole

as he put down his head.

He slept and snored

all day 

in his bed.

         I hope you have a good Labor Day weekend.  And may the bed you lie your head upon provide a great rest.  This poem started from the Mother Goose nursery rhyme.  Perhaps you can try writing your own nursery rhyme.  Have fun writing.

ACTION POEM

     OK, here we go again.  I'm trying something different again today.  (Isn't poetry all about experimenting with new ways to communicate meaning?)  Today's poem is actually a poem with actions but WITHOUT words.
I'm supplying the description of the action, but it isn't my intent to have the reader say the words but to do the action.  Let's see if this works.


(march,     march,     march)

(blink,     blink,     blink)

(clap,     clap,     clap)

(turn around left)

(shake left fist)

(turn around right)

(shake right fist)

(jump up)

(sit down)


     Now, here is the challenge.  Write your own wordless action poem.  You could nod, look left, right, up, down, skip, hop, sway, kick, stomp.  What other actions can you think of?  Have fun.  This can also work as a chain game where each person gets to add the next line of the poem or action.  For an even greater challenge, have the person adding an action repeat all the other lines of the poem before adding their own.  I wish we were together so we could do this as a group. 

I HAVE A BUG!

My Tummy Hurts

With out a doubt,
it feels like
it wants to scream
and shout.

It feels like
things are
rumbling about.

I think
it wants
to throw
things out.

Oh, please!  Give me
a trash can.
Quick!

I think
I'm going
to be
SICK!

     Being sick is something we all know about.  Sooner or later a bug hits us all.  So today's challenge is to write a poem about being sick.  Can you try to use lots of senses?  Well, maybe you'll want to omit smell,  or maybe that is the whole point of your poem.  Have fun because being sick isn't much fun.