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This is my playground for poetry written for children with ideas and inspiration for writing your own poems. Come on in. Sit for a spell, have a cup of words to swirl around and make your own cup of poetry. I'm so glad you are here. I hope you'll find the Kingdom of Poetry a fun place to be.

Tuesday, April 23, 2013

PROGRESSIVE POEM 
Each day during the month of April I will add a line to this poem.

WHAT IS POETRY? 
 
Poetry is thoughts that breathe, and words that burn. --Thomas Gray

  It is finding the truth, no need to lie.
  It's munching on watermelon and letting seeds fly.
 
 
It's a letter that comes with a card in the mail.
  It's the lacy silver threads left by a garden snail.
 
 
It's daffodil trumpets covering the hill.
  It's a deer at the creek, drinking her fill.
 
 
It's giggling and laughing and being absurd.
  It's reading a haiku and feeling each word. 
   
It's a dragon who blows flames, loud and hardy.
   It's fairies in the garden having a tea party.
 
 
It's the sound of a truck shifting its gears.
  It's the feel of two soft puppy dog ears.
 
 
It's a bright sun rise and glowing moon shine.
  It's a Carolina wren singing in a Lob-lolly pine.
 
 
 
It's a snowman rolled on a cold winter morn.
   It's crows calling from tall tasseled corn.
 
 
 
It's the whisper of hummingbird wings in the air.
It's plaits and curls tied with bows in my hair.
 

It's spying a bird feeding her young.
It's pink cotton candy that melts on your tongue.
 
It's watching black ants as they march by.
It's corn on the cob for the Fourth of July.

It's a bumble bee tumbling inside a rose.
It's dandelion puffs tickling my nose.
 
It's a penny tossed in a wishing well. 
It's the cackle of a witch casting a spell. 

It's roasting marshmallows over a campfire flame.

4 comments:

  1. Hello Joy,
    I enjoyed your poem-video "How tall is the boy?" and it led me here. I thought you might be interested in adding something to your "gesture collection" :-) I'm Russian, and in my country when kids count they open their left hand (if they're right-handed, I suppose)palm facing up, form a "pointing gesture" with their right hand and with their right index finger start folding fingers on their left hand beginning with the left pinky. It's easy to do, but difficult to describe! I hope my description made sense.
    Love your poem about poetry, I especially liked the line: "It's reading a haiku and feeling each word."
    Sasha

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    1. Sasha,
      Thank you for sharing your knowledge. I do like learning about nonverbal gestures. I like learning about Russian poets too. Just two weeks ago I got to hear Ilya Kaminski read again at The Poetry Center in Tucson, AZ. Are you familiar with his work? Dancing in Odessa is one of his collections. He's deaf and it always amazes me that he comes up with exciting rhythms in his poems. Hearing him read is a wonderful experience. Do you have a favorite Russian poet?

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    2. Hi,
      you are welcome!
      I do know the name, but I'm not familiar with Ilya Kaminsky's work. I read about him after reading what you said, and I look forward to reading his poetry.
      I have favorite poems written by various Russian poets, but if I were to pick one favorite Russian poet, I probably wouldn't be original - Alexander Pushkin. He, who was just 37 when he died, is considered the greatest Russian poet, the father of the Russian poetry. I resented him for that very reason when I was young and...not so smart :-), but as I get older, I begin to realize how vast, cosmic and at the same time how personal, down-to-earth, and how utterly Russian Pushkin is.

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    3. Thank you for suggesting Pushkin. I haven't read him for years. Like you, he didn't do much for me when I was in school. Now I'll have to go back and see if he has changed in my eyes as I am older.
      I remember falling in love with Anna Akmatova when I first read her poems. I actually cried through some of them. The images of blood on ice and wheat trying to grow up through that I can still remember. Of course, that's not exactly the image one would want to share with children--that's the adult poetry.

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