This is the first poem I posted here at GottaBook, within a week a starting the blog. Since I'm doing a bit of "retrospective" between my 1,000th post and my fourth blogoversary, I'm posting it again. It's the only poem I've ever changed for the blog, so this version changes two words to return it to the original form.
I Wrote the End
by
Gregory K.
I wrote the end of this short verse before I wrote the start.
I wrote the end because I knew the end by heart.
I wrote the ending first since that’s my favorite part.
I wrote the end of this short verse before I wrote the start.
Head on over and check out the Poetry Friday roundup at Anastasia Suen's Picture Book of the Day. As with every week, there's good stuff to be found!
If you want to get all my new poems (and only the poems) emailed to you for freeee as they hit the blog, enter your email address in the box below then click subscribe!
And to the 12 readers who were here the day I first posted this... thanks!
Showing posts sorted by relevance for query the end. Sort by date Show all posts
Showing posts sorted by relevance for query the end. Sort by date Show all posts
Friday, January 29, 2010
Friday, February 26, 2016
Poetry Re-issue: I Wrote The End
Since I'm celebrating 10 years of blogging here, I figured I'd re-post my very first blogged poem on its exact 10th anniversary.
I Wrote the End
by
Greg Pincus
I wrote the end of this short verse before I wrote the start.
I wrote the end because I knew the end by heart.
I wrote the ending first since that’s my favorite part.
I wrote the end of this short verse before I wrote the start.
In full disclosure, when I posted this back in February of 2006 the word "verse" was actually "post" as it was a more self-reflexive blog post poem. Both work. (Also, if you check out that original post, you'll note that a friend of mine left a comment in Fib form weeks before I blogged about Fibs. I'd forgotten that!)
It's Poetry Friday (which also didn't exist when I figure posted that poem), and you can see the roundup over at Elizabeth Steinglass' blog. Go check that link out for tons of amazing poetry fun.
And if you want to get all my poems (and only the poems) emailed to you for freeee as they hit the blog, enter your email address in the box below then click subscribe!
I Wrote the End
by
Greg Pincus
I wrote the end of this short verse before I wrote the start.
I wrote the end because I knew the end by heart.
I wrote the ending first since that’s my favorite part.
I wrote the end of this short verse before I wrote the start.
In full disclosure, when I posted this back in February of 2006 the word "verse" was actually "post" as it was a more self-reflexive blog post poem. Both work. (Also, if you check out that original post, you'll note that a friend of mine left a comment in Fib form weeks before I blogged about Fibs. I'd forgotten that!)
It's Poetry Friday (which also didn't exist when I figure posted that poem), and you can see the roundup over at Elizabeth Steinglass' blog. Go check that link out for tons of amazing poetry fun.
And if you want to get all my poems (and only the poems) emailed to you for freeee as they hit the blog, enter your email address in the box below then click subscribe!
Wednesday, August 09, 2006
Final SCBWI Conference notes...
Gal darn it... I wrote down quotes at the Conference so I could blog about 'em, so I will do just that, even if it didn't end up being day-of stuff.
Nina Laden, talking about picture books, said "the words are the bones and the pictures are the flesh." Nice image, I thought. Mo Willems had said "if you read a picture book text and can see everything... it's not a good picture book text." It truly is a collaborative medium... more in the sense that the pictures and words must collaborate, not just a writer and illustrator. Editor Elizabeth Van Doren had much to say about PBs, but I wrote down this as kinda a unifying theme in what she thinks helps make a good PB story: a universal experience treated originally. We heard the artistic side of the PB equation talk about what goes into making and designing a lasting picture book. As a writer, it was fantastic to hear that perspective explained so clearly. And did I mention that Jodi Reamer said that the picture book market has improved?
Again, and I do think this is wildy important, we were constantly reminded that publishing is a business. You have to accept that and treat it appropriately. As editor Nancy Siscoe noted, publishers are not patrons of the arts. They DO love what they do, love their books, and are wildly passionate advocates for them. But at the end of the day, there is a bottom line.
Some of that bottom line "stuff" was demystified when agent Edward Necarsulmer IV and editor Mark McVeigh conducted a mock contract negotiation in front of us all. Not only where they hilarious, but the explanations they about what choices have to be made, what processes they go through, and WHY it all happens was something that made much of the business end clear in a way I'd never heard before.
And mixed in with all that information were nuggets of inspiration from countless sources. I think I'll end with two quotes, the first from Paul Fleischman: "Doubt is to writers what headwinds are to cyclists." You have to believe in what you're doing, and you truly do have to love it. And finally, the plucky Jane Yolen delivered the closing speech (and, it was noted, had been the keynote at the very first SCBWI Conference). As she has 287 books published, she felt she was in position to offer some useful observations in the form of 10 Rules for Writing Success. Trust me, everyone listened!
Her speech was the perfect conclusion to the Conference, because she noted that we can talk craft, analyze, research, join the community and so much more, but the one thing we all need to do to have a chance at success could be summed up by her very first Rule:
Write the damn book.
In fact, I gotta book, since that is exactly what I need to go do.
Nina Laden, talking about picture books, said "the words are the bones and the pictures are the flesh." Nice image, I thought. Mo Willems had said "if you read a picture book text and can see everything... it's not a good picture book text." It truly is a collaborative medium... more in the sense that the pictures and words must collaborate, not just a writer and illustrator. Editor Elizabeth Van Doren had much to say about PBs, but I wrote down this as kinda a unifying theme in what she thinks helps make a good PB story: a universal experience treated originally. We heard the artistic side of the PB equation talk about what goes into making and designing a lasting picture book. As a writer, it was fantastic to hear that perspective explained so clearly. And did I mention that Jodi Reamer said that the picture book market has improved?
Again, and I do think this is wildy important, we were constantly reminded that publishing is a business. You have to accept that and treat it appropriately. As editor Nancy Siscoe noted, publishers are not patrons of the arts. They DO love what they do, love their books, and are wildly passionate advocates for them. But at the end of the day, there is a bottom line.
Some of that bottom line "stuff" was demystified when agent Edward Necarsulmer IV and editor Mark McVeigh conducted a mock contract negotiation in front of us all. Not only where they hilarious, but the explanations they about what choices have to be made, what processes they go through, and WHY it all happens was something that made much of the business end clear in a way I'd never heard before.
And mixed in with all that information were nuggets of inspiration from countless sources. I think I'll end with two quotes, the first from Paul Fleischman: "Doubt is to writers what headwinds are to cyclists." You have to believe in what you're doing, and you truly do have to love it. And finally, the plucky Jane Yolen delivered the closing speech (and, it was noted, had been the keynote at the very first SCBWI Conference). As she has 287 books published, she felt she was in position to offer some useful observations in the form of 10 Rules for Writing Success. Trust me, everyone listened!
Her speech was the perfect conclusion to the Conference, because she noted that we can talk craft, analyze, research, join the community and so much more, but the one thing we all need to do to have a chance at success could be summed up by her very first Rule:
Write the damn book.
In fact, I gotta book, since that is exactly what I need to go do.
Wednesday, November 02, 2011
Leslie Muir, the Little Bitty Bakery, and a Rhyming Interview (Yes. Really!)
Her newest book is out right now, with art by Betsy Lewin (wow!). So when she said “I’m on a tour. Can I stop by?” I said “Well, sure! There’s only one small hitch for you – I want a rhyming interview.”
Leslie didn’t blink. Now I’m hoping you’ll enjoy our rhyme.
As authors we don’t get to choose
Our artists, so we wait for news.
Can you recall what you were doin'
When you heard "It's Betsy Lewin"?
The phone had rung, the light was blinkin’,
Can’t recall what I was thinkin’.
The ID name sure caught my eye,
said: D-I-S-N-E and Y!
But why would Walt give me a call?
Especially since he’s dead and all?
I held the phone up to my ear,
a distant voice said loud and clear:
“I love your tale, it’s right on track,
I’ve got great news, so please call back.”
I fainted—SLAM!—and cracked a bone,
then rang my agent on the phone!
She said: “Hold on. I’ll get the scoop!”
I dared let go a tiny “Whoop!”
She called right back: “We’ve got a deal!”
My tiny whoop became a SQUEEEEAL!!!
“And guess who’s going to illustrate?”
my agent screamed, “She’s really great!”
I must admit I was boo-hooin’,
When I heard: “It’s Betsy Lewin!”Did your title ever change?
Did you ever re-arrange
Your plot? Your words? The cast? The tone?
Or did you shout "Leave this alone!"?
I’ve rearranged, I will confide,
so many times my brains are fried.
I must admit this story’s been
around the bend and back again.
The title changed. Oh yes, and how!*
I very nearly had a cow
and held my breath till I turned blue—
I loved my title, it was true.
But sales and others made their case,
so grudgingly I did erase,
and in the end I don’t feel glum—
behold the power of Valium!**
*Explanation: My original title for the story was The Wee Patisserie. The sales and marketing team at my publishing house felt that my Frenchy title might not jump out to buyers, especially those unfamiliar with the word patisserie. In the end, I deferred to their expertise. I’m usually open to changes during the revision process, but I was very attached to the original title and hated to lose it. It’s all good though.
**And for the record: I took poetic license with the Valium line!
I wonder if you could take time
To talk about meter and rhyme
Since I know that it
can be so hard to fit
Any story into picture book form at all as you need to keep the story front and center without letting people even think about the writing, and you do it so effectively without forcing word choice or story points or... uh... uh... using slime.
Yes, a moment I can spare,
hear my creed if you so dare:
First the story, then the rhyme,
or you’ll waste a ton of time.
Keep your meter smooth as cream,
a bump in rhythm is like a blood curdling, really distracting SCREAM. See? I told you.
Dang, I’m tired, exhausted, yuck,
rhyming interviews really…
well, actually, it might be the pound of Halloween candy I just ate…put me in a mammoth sugar coma…yeah, that’s it…it wasn’t this interview at all…really!*,**
*Explanation to above terrible poem: Before you jump into a rhyming tale, have the story figured out from beginning to end so you’re not developing the rhyme with no real direction. There’s nothing more frustrating than having to delete a batch of hard-earned stanzas because the story wasn’t well thought out from the get-go. And watch your meter! Keep it consistent and smooth. And by all means, let others read your work aloud. It’s a sure-fire method for weeding out tiny glitches in rhythm that you: a.) completely missed b.) ignored on purpose or c.) are in denial about. (Greg nods his head in vigorous agreement.)
**I really did eat a pound of Halloween candy.
Now, sadly we must say adieu...
So quickly, please... what's next for you?
C. R. MUDGEON is out real soon!
In 2012, but not in June,
actually it’s March....
Thanks for having me, Mr. Pincus,
You smell nice, you seldom... stinkus.
Leslie Muir's newest book, The Little Bitty Bakery (Disney/Hyperion), is a sweet, sweet story with fabulous illustrations by Betsy Lewin. It's a treat to read aloud, and it's a filling confection any time of day. But my excitement with having her here goes deeper than that. You see, Leslie and I were in the same online, rhyme only critique group (an exceedingly talented bunch, I must add) back before either of us had sold anything at all.
Leslie always blew me away with her poems, picture book manuscripts, and her notes on others' work, too. Our critique group broke up years ago, but flash forward to 2011 and Leslie has THREE picture books out (Barry B. Wary and Gibbus Moony Wants to Bite You being the others) with C.R. Mudgeon coming next year. The success is no surprise to me, and if you'd seen her work back when I first saw it, it'd be no surprise to you, either.
I'm only stop two on Leslie Muir and Betsy Lewin's blog tour, so there's more good reading out there. In fact, yesterday, Jules had a fabulous post (full o' art and more) over at Seven Impossible Things Before Breakfast. Tomorrow, the tour moves to Jama Kim Rattigan's always appetizing Jama's Alphabet Soup. And Friday, the crew stops over at the ever-entertaining Elizabeth Dulemba's blog. I hope you'll check 'em all out.
And my thanks again to Leslie for being here and not even blinking when I said "wacky idea - let's do a Q&A in rhyme." That's friendship (and bravery!).
(THE LITTLE BITTY BAKERY. Copyright © 2011 by Leslie Muir. Illustrations © 2011 by Betsy Lewin. Published by Hyperion Books, New York. Images used with permission of the publisher. Photo of Leslie Muir and Betsy Lewin used with permission of Leslie Muir.)
Monday, May 19, 2014
As Easy as ABC: Awards, Best Sellers, and Critical Thinking
 |
| The author with one of his many awards. |
This past week, Rush Limbaugh won Author of the Year at the Children's Choice Book Awards, an award sponsored by the Children's Book Council. Much as when his nomination as a finalist was announced, there was much gnashing of teeth inside (and outside) the children's book world with the award announcement, including many comments about how the award and even the CBC had lost credibility.
It's easy to feel outraged when there's a sense of being snookered or betrayed, but the reality is that the Author of the Year award has always been determined the same way - qualification is based on sales, then there's a popular vote to pick the winner. That didn't change this year.So, if the award had credibility before, it has credibility now, even if the winner seems "unworthy" somehow. If you weren't aware of the criterion for the award and how it was picked, at the end of the day that's on you, not the award. And not liking the results doesn't change that at all.
If we ask who gave this particular award whatever credibility it has, I'd say that the answer is that we did, collectively. Perhaps, in this case, it's trust in the creators of the award or the fact that it's part of a mission that we love (celebrating children's books!) and that talented authors have won it before. Regardless, our celebration of award winning status in general definitely is a factor. And that, again, is on us.
Awards for creative endeavors are a tricky thing. In a blog post that's well worth a read, Emma Dryden touches on some of the challenges and pitfalls of them and how we value them. Yet it's not easy to change this - there's all sorts of psychology in play here (including confirmation bias, social conformity, and more), and it's hard to overcome. Awards should mean something, we've decided, so when we see an award (particularly from an organization that seems legit and good), we give it value.And yet that's abdicating our personal responsibility to practice critical thinking and view each situation individually.
*For example, I honestly am an award-winning author. I'm not talking about awards for my debut novel The 14 Fibs of Gregory K. (which, I note, was a finalist for the Cybils and Crystal Kite... but not a winner) or my screenplays. Nope. I won an award in middle school at the Ready Writing Contest at Mansfield State College. My Punt Pass and Kick trophy from when I was eight could count, too - it's an award for me, after all, and I am an author. Context and critical thinking matter again, clearly.
How we view the status of "best seller" falls into this same arena, at least to me. Best-selling sounds "good" and "impressive," and it's easy to see why an author would link that to his/her name. And yet...
 |
| Best Seller! |
I also know that my sales during that period tapered off rapidly and included weeks of single digit sales. (10 of you feel free, as a social experiment, to buy The Late Bird and watch me top the same chart again. Go for it. I'll wait here :-)).
So, does Best Seller by itself really carry any weight? Again, we collectively have given it status and credibility, but perhaps we've done so without always considering context.
It's very easy to accept that statuses like "award winner" and "best seller" are impressive and meaningful, but if we don't think critically - asking questions like who gave an award, what was the purpose, what were the qualifications, what was the process, how were "sales" measured, where was it a best seller - then we're following blindly and not thinking for ourselves. And that? Well, that's sad no matter who has won what.
What do you think? Do we trust awards, best seller lists, reviews, and the like too much? Is the recent outrage only political in nature and not about our responsibility to think critically? Or...? I look forward to your thoughts.
Monday, March 22, 2010
Applause! A Wimpy Kid Movie Moment
Last Friday, I saw the movie of Diary of a Wimpy Kid... and experienced a moment sure to make any author happy. "And what was that moment, Greg?" I hear you ask.
There was applause for the credit "Based on the book Diary of a Wimpy Kid by Jeff Kinney."
Yes, the crowd applauded for the author and his book - the only applause in the credits, in fact (and they are END credits at that).
Maybe I'm reading into this, but my takeaway is that kids do bond with books and authors, not just with marketing. In fact, it wasn't commercials that filled the seats on Friday: it was a love of the books.
The movie is not a cinematic masterpiece, but I don't think that was its goal. Instead, I think the filmmakers understood who was gonna see this movie and not only what they'd want from it but what they'd demand from it (and what they wouldn't tolerate). It didn't attempt to expand for a bigger audience ala The Lightning Thief because, frankly, that wouldn't have made any sense here. I hope it continues to draw an audience beyond opening weekend and prove that there is room for movies like this.
Yes, Wimpy Kid is unique in that some 70,000,000 people have viewed parts of it over at Funbrain. But at the end of the day (or the end of the movie, really) the applause was for Jeff Kinney and his book.
So author friends... keep that in mind as you're writing. You do connect with your readers. And some day, perhaps, that applause will be for you and your book.
What a sweet sound that applause was, in oh so many ways!
There was applause for the credit "Based on the book Diary of a Wimpy Kid by Jeff Kinney."
Yes, the crowd applauded for the author and his book - the only applause in the credits, in fact (and they are END credits at that).
Maybe I'm reading into this, but my takeaway is that kids do bond with books and authors, not just with marketing. In fact, it wasn't commercials that filled the seats on Friday: it was a love of the books.
The movie is not a cinematic masterpiece, but I don't think that was its goal. Instead, I think the filmmakers understood who was gonna see this movie and not only what they'd want from it but what they'd demand from it (and what they wouldn't tolerate). It didn't attempt to expand for a bigger audience ala The Lightning Thief because, frankly, that wouldn't have made any sense here. I hope it continues to draw an audience beyond opening weekend and prove that there is room for movies like this.
Yes, Wimpy Kid is unique in that some 70,000,000 people have viewed parts of it over at Funbrain. But at the end of the day (or the end of the movie, really) the applause was for Jeff Kinney and his book.
So author friends... keep that in mind as you're writing. You do connect with your readers. And some day, perhaps, that applause will be for you and your book.
What a sweet sound that applause was, in oh so many ways!
Friday, May 01, 2009
Thirty Poets/One Day (or, wrapping it all up)
It had to happen - National Poetry Month and the first ever 30 Poets/30 Days are done. I'd be sad, but I just can't be when I look at what happened here this month. To review:
Jack Prelutsky - A Little Poem For Poetry Month
Rebecca Kai Dotlich - Midnight Stray
Charles Ghigna - A Poem Is...
X. J. Kennedy - Ladder to the Moon
Ann Whitford Paul - Owl
Jaime Adoff - Rock n Roll Dad
Marilyn Singer - In the Museum
Adam Rex - The Flight Before Christmas
Joyce Sidman - Spring is the Time
Bruce Lansky - Rules for Spot
Avis Harley - Perfect Pitch
Nikki Grimes - All Eyes
Lee Bennett Hopkins - SPRING
Linda Sue Park - Villanelle: Why I Love Libraries
Mary Ann Hoberman - I Dreamt I Saw a Dinosaur
Betsy Franco - Me and Joe Lining Up After Recess
Jon Scieszka and Emily Dickinson - 200 Typing Monkeys Almost Make It
Kristine O'Connell George - Skeleton at Dinner
Arnold Adoff - n o justice n o p e a c e
Jane Yolen - My Teacher
Gregory K. - I Went to the Farm Where Spaghetti Is Grown
Janet Wong - My Green Grandfather
Nikki Giovanni - My Sister and Me
J. Patrick Lewis - The Poet of the World
Julie Larios - No Strings Attached
Joan Bransfield Graham - I am the Poem
Kenn Nesbitt - My Chicken's On The Internet
April Halprin Wayland - How to Read a Poem Aloud
Douglas Florian - kinda, sorta
Pat Mora - Books & Me
At the halfway point, I said "Wow!" I stand by that statement here at the end, too :-)
There are so many people to thank in regards to 30 Poets/30 Days, and many of them have been mentioned here before. So for today, I'll break it down into three groups - my family and friends, offline and online, for answering logistical questions, showering the project with link love, and brainstorming ways to spread the word; all the poets for showing such amazing generosity and support; all of you for reading along this month. You're the reason we're here!
Now, I must add that at GottaBook, I celebrate poetry year round, so the end of this month only means there won't be a poem EVERY day. But there will be new poetry here in the weeks and months ahead. Some will be by me, of course, but there will be surprises, too. So if you're new to these parts, I do hope you'll stick around. And if you've already been sticking around for awhile... well... yay and thanks! And just think... it's only 11 months until the NEXT National Poetry Month.
Finally, it's Poetry Friday! Why not head over to Maya Ganeson's blog allegro and check out the roundup of poetry posts. April's over, but the Kidlitosphere poetically rocks on....
More on Monday but for now, I gotta book!
Jack Prelutsky - A Little Poem For Poetry Month
Rebecca Kai Dotlich - Midnight Stray
Charles Ghigna - A Poem Is...
X. J. Kennedy - Ladder to the Moon
Ann Whitford Paul - Owl
Jaime Adoff - Rock n Roll Dad
Marilyn Singer - In the Museum
Adam Rex - The Flight Before Christmas
Joyce Sidman - Spring is the Time
Bruce Lansky - Rules for Spot
Avis Harley - Perfect Pitch
Nikki Grimes - All Eyes
Lee Bennett Hopkins - SPRING
Linda Sue Park - Villanelle: Why I Love Libraries
Mary Ann Hoberman - I Dreamt I Saw a Dinosaur
Betsy Franco - Me and Joe Lining Up After Recess
Jon Scieszka and Emily Dickinson - 200 Typing Monkeys Almost Make It
Kristine O'Connell George - Skeleton at Dinner
Arnold Adoff - n o justice n o p e a c e
Jane Yolen - My Teacher
Gregory K. - I Went to the Farm Where Spaghetti Is Grown
Janet Wong - My Green Grandfather
Nikki Giovanni - My Sister and Me
J. Patrick Lewis - The Poet of the World
Julie Larios - No Strings Attached
Joan Bransfield Graham - I am the Poem
Kenn Nesbitt - My Chicken's On The Internet
April Halprin Wayland - How to Read a Poem Aloud
Douglas Florian - kinda, sorta
Pat Mora - Books & Me
At the halfway point, I said "Wow!" I stand by that statement here at the end, too :-)
There are so many people to thank in regards to 30 Poets/30 Days, and many of them have been mentioned here before. So for today, I'll break it down into three groups - my family and friends, offline and online, for answering logistical questions, showering the project with link love, and brainstorming ways to spread the word; all the poets for showing such amazing generosity and support; all of you for reading along this month. You're the reason we're here!
Now, I must add that at GottaBook, I celebrate poetry year round, so the end of this month only means there won't be a poem EVERY day. But there will be new poetry here in the weeks and months ahead. Some will be by me, of course, but there will be surprises, too. So if you're new to these parts, I do hope you'll stick around. And if you've already been sticking around for awhile... well... yay and thanks! And just think... it's only 11 months until the NEXT National Poetry Month.
Finally, it's Poetry Friday! Why not head over to Maya Ganeson's blog allegro and check out the roundup of poetry posts. April's over, but the Kidlitosphere poetically rocks on....
More on Monday but for now, I gotta book!
Wednesday, May 16, 2012
J. Patrick Lewis - Edgar Allan Poe's Pie
In short, he takes classic poems, parodies them, and adds math. Here's an example so you know what I'm raving about:
Edward Lear’s Elephant with Hot Dog
Inspired by “THERE WAS AN OLD MAN WITH A BEARD” by Edward Lear
Inspired by “THERE WAS AN OLD MAN WITH A BEARD” by Edward Lear
“When an elephant sat down to order
A half of a third of a quarter
Of an eighty-foot bun
And a frankfurter, son,
Was it longer than three feet, or shorter?”
Be still Greg's geeky heart! (And yes, the answers are in the book. But here, you have to do the math!). Now, on with the chat....
It was nice of you to write a book specifically for me - a mashup of math, poetry, and parody. How did you know that this was what I would've flipped out for as a kid (and still do as an adult)? Or... well... do you think there are other kids who would like it, too????
When you visit classes/schools and get to these poems, what reaction do you get from the kids? Do they want to hear the original poems? Do they yell out answers?
The short answer is, Yes, they do yell out the answers, at least to some of them, but I have come to realize, after a number of tries, that some work and some don't. As always, I write, and wrote this book, for myself. And many of these poets/poems in EAPoe's Pie are simply unknown or passe to 4th-5th graders. That shouldn't detract from the math element in them, but I won't lie and tell you that they were shouting, "John Ciardi!" "Eleanor Farjeon!"
How did you pick the poems you chose to re-work? Was it based on you seeing how to make them fit with math or was it based more on poems you love or something else entirely?
Truth be told, I chose the poets first, then looked for their most well-known poems that might make grist for the math parody mill. Harcourt accepted almost all of the choices I made, so there was some feeling of vindication.
Did you ever create poems with math that you decided was too complex for this collection?
Sadly, yes, and a few of them might still reside in the book. It's extremely challenging to write math poems all of equal difficulty—far easier in fact to write straightforward math problems. And occasionally, I get/got so carried away that I forget/forgot my (young) audience.
Any plans to do this with other topics besides math?
 |
| How many I think he should do. |
In 2037 or thereabouts (kidding), I have a book of parodies about all sorts of subjects coming out with Wordsong/Boyds Mills Press entitled Shadow Poems: Parrot-ies. At least that's the title I hope they agree to keep.
You've already had wonderful books out this year. What's next for you?
If you promise not to hold me to the exact dates—publishers are always changing lists—I'll mention these poetry books:
- Take Two! A Celebration of Twins (with Jane Yolen), Candlewick, Spring 2012.
- Last Laughs: Animal Epitaphs (with Jane Yolen), Charlesbridge, Spring 2012.
- The National Geographic Book of Animal Poems, Sept. 2012—200 poems (my first anthology).
- If You Were a Chocolate Mustache: (156) Poems, Wordsong/Boyds Mills Press, 2012-2013?
- When Thunder Comes: Poems for the Civil Rights Leaders, Chronicle Books, 2013.
- Everything Is a Poem: Selected Best Poems of JPL, Creative Editions, 2013.
- Poemobiles: Imaginary Car Poems (with Douglas Florian), Schwartz & Wade, Spring 2013.
- World Rat Day: Poems About Holidays You Have Never Heard Of, Candlewick, 2013.
There was more in our email exchanges, but I decided to end with this list of delectable titles we have to look forward to (or in the case of some, like Take Two!, have already enjoyed).
I'm not sure how Pat found the time to chat with me, but I'm grateful that he did! He also had time to stop by No Water River to chat and read some poetry... and to answer five questions with Sylvia Vardell, too - another post worth reading!
And can I just say once again... if you like math, poetry, inspired wordplay or any combination of those three (or if you do the math to see how many combos exist!), you should go out and by J. Patrick Lewis's Edgar Allan Poe's Pie. Period. The end!
Sunday, February 26, 2006
Poetry + post = poestry?
I wrote the end of this short post before I wrote the start.
I wrote the end because I knew the end by heart.
I wrote the ending first since that’s my favorite part.
I wrote the end of this short post before I wrote the start.
I wrote the end because I knew the end by heart.
I wrote the ending first since that’s my favorite part.
I wrote the end of this short post before I wrote the start.
Monday, April 26, 2010
Jacqueline Woodson - One of the Many Stories
One of the Many Stories
by
Jacqueline Woodson
When the puppy in the road was
mine, life didn't stop
for the driver. That evening perhaps
he read his son one of many stories
grownups write for children
about dogs. Perhaps
this one found its way
Home. The End. Then kissed his child
center crown as always, the meat
his wife was roasting, nearly done
by the time the vet pronounced
Bella dead at four months, one half
hour before my daughter, at six, discovered
a new way tomorrow could get here
tears to whimpering then finally sleep
a plastic bone beneath her pillow from this moment on,
safe still from towers burning, a car moving fast
against traffic as the children inside squeal
themselves to death. A pan of oil too close
to an open flame She Is, I think
safe still from other stories.
Night and the driver
couldn't see a black puppy bolting
Didn't know
that deep in her German Shepherd blood
was a desire for the only story she knew
Let's call it "Home"
so when the door was cracked
she saw the promise of black night
caught scent of her recent journey
thought she knew the way
back to us
One half mile away from where I stood
packing, now pondering black linen shorts
now folding a Mama For Obama t-shirt into my bag
now smiling over our daughter's first
pink bikini as our dogsitters searched and found
our number. Already, our trip
to the Caribbean was becoming another story
of another almost-thing, puppy-blood warm
freezing fast for us into
On the corner of Pacific and Bond that February
©2010 Jacqueline Woodson. All rights reserved.
Jacqueline Woodson has received three (three!) Newbery Honors, the Coretta Scott King Award, been nominated for the National Book Award and been an NBA finalist, ended up on numerous book of the year lists and, most importantly of all, writes picture books and novels that resonate with children (and adults) who read them. No surprise, really - she writes honestly and powerfully about issues and emotions small and large (as her poem here today is testament). There's no manipulation in her work, simply connection.
I love her novel-in-poems Locomotion, but it was with Show Way (illustrated by Hudson Talbott) that I had my own personal "Woodson-epiphany" or something like that. That wonderfully poetic book is autobiographical, about the maternal line in her family. Yet it's so pitch perfect that this white male dad could read it aloud in front of a group of kids and feel completely natural giving voice to the story. It guided me along and kept me totally connected (via family traditions? parent-child issues? loss? All of the above?) despite the differences. To quote the text but turning it about the book itself: "I loved that baby up." Indeed I did (and do). In case it's not clear, I'm a fan... and I'm totally thrilled to have Jacqueline Woodson here as part of 30 Poets/30 Days.
Yesterday, we saw George Ella Lyon's Trying To Get Out of My Tree. Tomorrow... Sounds Delightful by Graham Denton. For more on 30 Poets/30 Days and ways to follow along, please click here.
by
Jacqueline Woodson
When the puppy in the road was
mine, life didn't stop
for the driver. That evening perhaps
he read his son one of many stories
grownups write for children
about dogs. Perhaps
this one found its way
Home. The End. Then kissed his child
center crown as always, the meat
his wife was roasting, nearly done
by the time the vet pronounced
Bella dead at four months, one half
hour before my daughter, at six, discovered
a new way tomorrow could get here
tears to whimpering then finally sleep
a plastic bone beneath her pillow from this moment on,
safe still from towers burning, a car moving fast
against traffic as the children inside squeal
themselves to death. A pan of oil too close
to an open flame She Is, I think
safe still from other stories.
Night and the driver
couldn't see a black puppy bolting
Didn't know
that deep in her German Shepherd blood
was a desire for the only story she knew
Let's call it "Home"
so when the door was cracked
she saw the promise of black night
caught scent of her recent journey
thought she knew the way
back to us
One half mile away from where I stood
packing, now pondering black linen shorts
now folding a Mama For Obama t-shirt into my bag
now smiling over our daughter's first
pink bikini as our dogsitters searched and found
our number. Already, our trip
to the Caribbean was becoming another story
of another almost-thing, puppy-blood warm
freezing fast for us into
On the corner of Pacific and Bond that February
©2010 Jacqueline Woodson. All rights reserved.
I love her novel-in-poems Locomotion, but it was with Show Way (illustrated by Hudson Talbott) that I had my own personal "Woodson-epiphany" or something like that. That wonderfully poetic book is autobiographical, about the maternal line in her family. Yet it's so pitch perfect that this white male dad could read it aloud in front of a group of kids and feel completely natural giving voice to the story. It guided me along and kept me totally connected (via family traditions? parent-child issues? loss? All of the above?) despite the differences. To quote the text but turning it about the book itself: "I loved that baby up." Indeed I did (and do). In case it's not clear, I'm a fan... and I'm totally thrilled to have Jacqueline Woodson here as part of 30 Poets/30 Days.
Yesterday, we saw George Ella Lyon's Trying To Get Out of My Tree. Tomorrow... Sounds Delightful by Graham Denton. For more on 30 Poets/30 Days and ways to follow along, please click here.
Wednesday, April 27, 2011
J. Patrick Lewis - The Voice of the Voiceless
The Voice of the Voiceless
by J. Patrick Lewis
Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi
Political and spiritual leader of India
1869 –1948
The outcast sits and prays, or sleeps,
Untroubled by a human’s touch.
From his oppressive seat, he keeps
Away from you at least as much.
His house is on the street: the curb.
His body signifies, Beware.
The flag he waves, Do Not Disturb,
No one can see, and still it’s there.
Such savage rites, decreed by caste,
Divined by birth, and quick with rot,
Insure one hostage to the past
Will be this godforsaken lot.
My children, I shall end my days
Reminding you: Your greatest sin
Done to these humble castaways
Is to forget the state you’re in.
For we are not the ones to say
What will erode and what endure,
Where the iron, where the clay,
Who the foul and who the pure.
(The poem above will appear in the as yet untitled collection,
subtitled Poems for the Civil Righteous, Harcourt, 2012 or 2013.)
© J. Patrick Lewis. All rights reserved.
I once again state that J. Patrick Lewis can write wonderful poetry about any topic. Whether he's creating a powerful piece about Mahatma Gandhi or telling the story of a house through the ages (The House, with amazing illustrations by Roberto Innocenti) or telling stories about the First Dog or writing about the poet of the world, his utter mastery of language and form is always apparent. Don't tell him, but I read his books first for enjoyment and then, at some point, I study them to try and improve my own craft.
I've had the great fun of reading Pat's Spot the Plot: A Riddle Book of Book Riddles aloud while wearing my volunteer-librarian hat. My experience (documented here and repeated yearly) is that kids cheer, talk, laugh, and want to write poetry after hearing it. The only other thing I'll say is that it's a BLAST, and you must try it. And I want a sequel. OK, fine. I said more. The truth is, though, you can grab any of J. Patrick Lewis's books or read any of his poems and you're likely to get that same reaction of joy from someone in your audience. In fact, it's a guarantee if I'm there, and that's why it's such a joy for me to have him here as part of 30 Poets/30 Days.
Yesterday ended with I Put Each Carrot In a Suit by Greg Pincus. Up next... Skating Pond by Rebecca Kai Dotlich! For more information on 30 Poets/30 Days and how to follow along, please click here.
by J. Patrick Lewis
Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi
Political and spiritual leader of India
1869 –1948
The outcast sits and prays, or sleeps,
Untroubled by a human’s touch.
From his oppressive seat, he keeps
Away from you at least as much.
His house is on the street: the curb.
His body signifies, Beware.
The flag he waves, Do Not Disturb,
No one can see, and still it’s there.
Such savage rites, decreed by caste,
Divined by birth, and quick with rot,
Insure one hostage to the past
Will be this godforsaken lot.
My children, I shall end my days
Reminding you: Your greatest sin
Done to these humble castaways
Is to forget the state you’re in.
For we are not the ones to say
What will erode and what endure,
Where the iron, where the clay,
Who the foul and who the pure.
(The poem above will appear in the as yet untitled collection,
subtitled Poems for the Civil Righteous, Harcourt, 2012 or 2013.)
© J. Patrick Lewis. All rights reserved.
I once again state that J. Patrick Lewis can write wonderful poetry about any topic. Whether he's creating a powerful piece about Mahatma Gandhi or telling the story of a house through the ages (The House, with amazing illustrations by Roberto Innocenti) or telling stories about the First Dog or writing about the poet of the world, his utter mastery of language and form is always apparent. Don't tell him, but I read his books first for enjoyment and then, at some point, I study them to try and improve my own craft.
Yesterday ended with I Put Each Carrot In a Suit by Greg Pincus. Up next... Skating Pond by Rebecca Kai Dotlich! For more information on 30 Poets/30 Days and how to follow along, please click here.
Monday, March 29, 2010
Kenn Nesbitt, the Tighty Whitey Spider, and More
That said, his new book, The Tighty Whitey Spider (with illustrations by Ethan Long) would make me a fan even if I wasn't already one. I'm lucky because his publisher, Sourcebooks, got me a book early, so I've already read Whenever Yaks Play Basketball, I Like My Triangular Cat, and Toby the Snowboarding Doberman. Yup. I have. I've heard some of the audio tracks you can hear when you get the book, too, all performed by Kenn. And guess what? The poems, the audio, and the book make me laugh. Nuff said.
You can judge for yourself, though. I'm gonna leave you with a poem that is in Tighty Whitey but debuted here at GottaBook last year: My Chicken's On the Internet. Also, Kenn's last book, My Hippo Has the Hiccups is available as a freeeeeeee eBook until the end of National Poetry Month (or you can just enjoy it online at the same link). Go see if it makes you laugh, too. If it does, check out Tighty Whitey Spider if you want some more. I know I'm biased... but I think you'll end up agreeing with me anyway!
My Chicken's On the Internet
by
Kenn Nesbitt
My chicken's on the Internet.
She surfs the web all day.
I've tried to stop her browsing
but, so far, there's just no way.
She jumps up on the mouse
and then she flaps around like mad
to click on every hyperlink
and every pop-up ad.
She plays all sorts of chicken games.
She messages her folks.
She watches chicken videos
and forwards chicken jokes.
She writes a blog for chickens
and she uploads chicken pics.
She visits chicken chat rooms
where she clucks about her chicks.
I wouldn't mind so much
except my keyboard's now a wreck.
She hasn't learned to type yet;
she can only hunt and peck.
© Kenn Nesbitt. All rights reserved.
(originally posted here)
Monday, April 29, 2013
Dave Crawley - Eye of the Hawk
Eye of the Hawk
by
Dave Crawley
Broad wings hover in a cloudless sky.
Shadow on meadows where songbirds fly.
Bright eyes gleaming, from a world on high.
The tall blue sky of the hawk.
Red-tailed raptor with a taste for prey.
Nail-sharp talons that will have their way.
The hunter rules at the end of day.
Beware the eye of the hawk.
Blacksnake slithers where a field mouse stirred.
House wrens flee from the great, brown bird.
For one lone creature, the last sound heard:
The hungry cry of the hawk.
©Dave Crawley. All rights reserved.
First off... congratulations to Dave Crawley, winner of this year's March Madness (poetry style, that is)! Dave ran off a string of created-under-pressure poems based on assigned words (like his tourney ending entry using "bumbershoot" or his semifinal battle where his "sesquipedalian" poem barely topped vs. M. M. Socks' "portmanteau" verse) that was epic, impressive, and a whole lot of fun, too.
Now, if you followed March Madness or have read any of Dave Crawley's books, you'll know that he's got an incredible ability to make folks laugh. He turns a phrase and plays with words like nobody's business. In fact, he sent me a very funny poem as well as Eye of the Hawk, but I chose the latter because what I think often gets lost for those of us who write funny is that, well... I mean, look at the word choice, the imagery, the hidden rhymes and all that good stuff! It's there in all his funny stuff, too, but if you ignore it here, well, you'll end up prey, I tell ya!
I step off my soapbox with an entreaty that you find Dave Crawley's books and re-read his Madness poems. Or just enjoy the Hawk and see why I'm thrilled to have him here as part of 30 Poets/30 Days.
Yesterday, Lesléa Newman gave us Teen Angels. Tomorrow, the 2013 edition of 30 Poets/30 Days finishes up with Naomi Shihab Nye and Driving Back.
by
Dave Crawley
Broad wings hover in a cloudless sky.
Shadow on meadows where songbirds fly.
Bright eyes gleaming, from a world on high.
The tall blue sky of the hawk.
Red-tailed raptor with a taste for prey.
Nail-sharp talons that will have their way.
The hunter rules at the end of day.
Beware the eye of the hawk.
Blacksnake slithers where a field mouse stirred.
House wrens flee from the great, brown bird.
For one lone creature, the last sound heard:
The hungry cry of the hawk.
©Dave Crawley. All rights reserved.
First off... congratulations to Dave Crawley, winner of this year's March Madness (poetry style, that is)! Dave ran off a string of created-under-pressure poems based on assigned words (like his tourney ending entry using "bumbershoot" or his semifinal battle where his "sesquipedalian" poem barely topped vs. M. M. Socks' "portmanteau" verse) that was epic, impressive, and a whole lot of fun, too.I step off my soapbox with an entreaty that you find Dave Crawley's books and re-read his Madness poems. Or just enjoy the Hawk and see why I'm thrilled to have him here as part of 30 Poets/30 Days.
Yesterday, Lesléa Newman gave us Teen Angels. Tomorrow, the 2013 edition of 30 Poets/30 Days finishes up with Naomi Shihab Nye and Driving Back.
Wednesday, April 08, 2009
Adam Rex - The Flight Before Christmas
I've been trying to make this idea work off and on for years.
This is the closest I've come.
-Adam Rex
The Flight Before Christmas
'Tis the flight before Christmas. Our aircraft today
is a Boeing C-25 JingleBus sleigh.
At this time I would like to say "welcome aboard"
and please ask for all luggage and toys to be stored
in the space by your feet or the overhead sack.
Use caution untying the sack when you pack
as the toys may have shifted about during flight.
Santa gets a bit…dazed by the end of the night.
It's hardly surprising for someone who stares
for twelve hours at eight tiny reinderrières.
Plus the eggnog. Our point is, expect a rough ride,
but in two thousand years not one passenger’s died.
In the likely event of a freefall or dive
there’s an oxygen mask that will keep you alive.
We ask that you first find a mask for yourself–
put it on and pull tight before helping an elf.
Get your safety belt buckled, and keep it that way–
no standing or stretching at all in the sleigh.
Not a soul should be stirring, not even the mice.
Our pilot is quite the flotation device!
If we land in the water, hold onto him tight.
Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good flight.
©2009 Adam Rex. All rights reserved.
Adam Rex's Frankenstein Makes a Sandwich is always checked out at the elementary school library where I've been the volunteer librarian. In fact, when I want to read a poem aloud from it, I know I have to bring my own copy (then hold onto it tight!). The poems in Frankenstein and its sequel are hilarious and sly and connect with kids perfectly. And the art! Don't get me started on his fantastic illustrations in Frankenstein and its sequel, or his art in his picture book Pssst or Elvira Woodruff's Small Beauties or Amy Timberlake's The Dirty Cowboy or... no, no! I won't start.
Seriously, though, anyone who writes a poem about the Invisible Man going for a haircut or describes Santa looking at eight tiny reinderrières sees the world in a way that's different than most, yet Adam gets his vision across in poem after poem. I hope we'll be seeing more Adam Rex poetry collections... but I'm very happy to see at least one more poem from him here as part of 30 Poets/30 Days.
Yesterday we were In the Museum with Marilyn Singer. Tomorrow brings us Spring is the Time by Joyce Sidman.
This is the closest I've come.
-Adam Rex
The Flight Before Christmas
'Tis the flight before Christmas. Our aircraft today
is a Boeing C-25 JingleBus sleigh.
At this time I would like to say "welcome aboard"
and please ask for all luggage and toys to be stored
in the space by your feet or the overhead sack.
Use caution untying the sack when you pack
as the toys may have shifted about during flight.
Santa gets a bit…dazed by the end of the night.
It's hardly surprising for someone who stares
for twelve hours at eight tiny reinderrières.
Plus the eggnog. Our point is, expect a rough ride,
but in two thousand years not one passenger’s died.
In the likely event of a freefall or dive
there’s an oxygen mask that will keep you alive.
We ask that you first find a mask for yourself–
put it on and pull tight before helping an elf.
Get your safety belt buckled, and keep it that way–
no standing or stretching at all in the sleigh.
Not a soul should be stirring, not even the mice.
Our pilot is quite the flotation device!
If we land in the water, hold onto him tight.
Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good flight.
©2009 Adam Rex. All rights reserved.
Adam Rex's Frankenstein Makes a Sandwich is always checked out at the elementary school library where I've been the volunteer librarian. In fact, when I want to read a poem aloud from it, I know I have to bring my own copy (then hold onto it tight!). The poems in Frankenstein and its sequel are hilarious and sly and connect with kids perfectly. And the art! Don't get me started on his fantastic illustrations in Frankenstein and its sequel, or his art in his picture book Pssst or Elvira Woodruff's Small Beauties or Amy Timberlake's The Dirty Cowboy or... no, no! I won't start.
Seriously, though, anyone who writes a poem about the Invisible Man going for a haircut or describes Santa looking at eight tiny reinderrières sees the world in a way that's different than most, yet Adam gets his vision across in poem after poem. I hope we'll be seeing more Adam Rex poetry collections... but I'm very happy to see at least one more poem from him here as part of 30 Poets/30 Days.
Yesterday we were In the Museum with Marilyn Singer. Tomorrow brings us Spring is the Time by Joyce Sidman.
Friday, April 15, 2011
Heidi Mordhorst - The Playroom Floor Writes a Novel
The Playroom Floor Writes a Novel
by
Heidi Mordhorst
Chapter One: A Fine Day for an Outing
a cozy Kleenex box
a stuffed caterpillar
a plastic slice of cucumber
three pennies
and a Spiderman motorcycle
Chapter Two: The Picnic
the same caterpillar
the plastic cucumber
a few stale Cheetos
a cheerful red bandanna
and a hard-eyed inflatable kangaroo
Chapter Three: The Attack!
the kangaroo
Billy Blazes’s axe
a length of string
a birthday candle and
a flaming red bandanna
Chapter Four: The Rescue
the caterpillar bound with string
the kangaroo brandishing
the last Cheeto
suddenly, a dozen rubber ants and
a boxing glove!
Chapter Five: The Champions
the kangaroo, deflated
a large cheese grater
a padlock from The GirlTalk Diary
the ants on the Spiderman motorcycle
with the caterpillar, wearing a crown
The End
©2011 Heidi Mordhorst. All rights reserved.
Heidi Mordhorst had me at hello... or, in this case, with the title of her poem. C'mon, now! Doesn't that just evoke a whole world in those six words (and two are articles!)? I had my own inklings of what might follow, but then she took her own idea and ran with it. I can see the whole scenario she describes play out, and I ask you, what former child can't?
Just like last time she was here, I find myself simply loving the perspective of her poems. There's a wonderful childlike point of view yet there's real skill in finding the details and images that let her pull the ideas off and make them into something bigger. Good fun indeed, and just one of the reasons I'm so happy to have Heidi Mordhorst here as part of 30 Poets/30 Days.
Earlier, we saw Carole Boston Weatherford's A BAT CAVE: An Abecedarian Bedtime Chronicle. Up next, Arnold Adoff with orien berg strasse! For more information on 30 Poets/30 Days and how to follow along, please click here.
by
Heidi Mordhorst
Chapter One: A Fine Day for an Outing
a cozy Kleenex box
a stuffed caterpillar
a plastic slice of cucumber
three pennies
and a Spiderman motorcycle
Chapter Two: The Picnic
the same caterpillar
the plastic cucumber
a few stale Cheetos
a cheerful red bandanna
and a hard-eyed inflatable kangaroo
Chapter Three: The Attack!
the kangaroo
Billy Blazes’s axe
a length of string
a birthday candle and
a flaming red bandanna
Chapter Four: The Rescue
the caterpillar bound with string
the kangaroo brandishing
the last Cheeto
suddenly, a dozen rubber ants and
a boxing glove!
Chapter Five: The Champions
the kangaroo, deflated
a large cheese grater
a padlock from The GirlTalk Diary
the ants on the Spiderman motorcycle
with the caterpillar, wearing a crown
The End
©2011 Heidi Mordhorst. All rights reserved.
Heidi Mordhorst had me at hello... or, in this case, with the title of her poem. C'mon, now! Doesn't that just evoke a whole world in those six words (and two are articles!)? I had my own inklings of what might follow, but then she took her own idea and ran with it. I can see the whole scenario she describes play out, and I ask you, what former child can't?
Just like last time she was here, I find myself simply loving the perspective of her poems. There's a wonderful childlike point of view yet there's real skill in finding the details and images that let her pull the ideas off and make them into something bigger. Good fun indeed, and just one of the reasons I'm so happy to have Heidi Mordhorst here as part of 30 Poets/30 Days.
Earlier, we saw Carole Boston Weatherford's A BAT CAVE: An Abecedarian Bedtime Chronicle. Up next, Arnold Adoff with orien berg strasse! For more information on 30 Poets/30 Days and how to follow along, please click here.
Saturday, April 26, 2014
30 Poets/Day 26 - Joan Bransfield Graham and Jacqueline Woodson
I AM THE POEM
by
Joan Bransfield Graham
I am the poem
out
of reach
I make you
spin
and leap and
stretch
and when you're
just
about to
catch
me
off I twirl
in clever
choreography
but we are
never
far apart
I pirouette
around
your heart
and head and
tease
with all the
mysteries
I can employ:
it is the dance
that is the joy.
© 2009 Joan Bransfield Graham. All rights reserved.
(click here to see the original post and comments)
One of the Many Stories
by
Jacqueline Woodson
When the puppy in the road was
mine, life didn't stop
for the driver. That evening perhaps
he read his son one of many stories
grownups write for children
about dogs. Perhaps
this one found its way
Home. The End. Then kissed his child
center crown as always, the meat
his wife was roasting, nearly done
by the time the vet pronounced
Bella dead at four months, one half
hour before my daughter, at six, discovered
a new way tomorrow could get here
tears to whimpering then finally sleep
a plastic bone beneath her pillow from this moment on,
safe still from towers burning, a car moving fast
against traffic as the children inside squeal
themselves to death. A pan of oil too close
to an open flame She Is, I think
safe still from other stories.
Night and the driver
couldn't see a black puppy bolting
Didn't know
that deep in her German Shepherd blood
was a desire for the only story she knew
Let's call it "Home"
so when the door was cracked
she saw the promise of black night
caught scent of her recent journey
thought she knew the way
back to us
One half mile away from where I stood
packing, now pondering black linen shorts
now folding a Mama For Obama t-shirt into my bag
now smiling over our daughter's first
pink bikini as our dogsitters searched and found
our number. Already, our trip
to the Caribbean was becoming another story
of another almost-thing, puppy-blood warm
freezing fast for us into
On the corner of Pacific and Bond that February
©2010 Jacqueline Woodson. All rights reserved.
(click here to see the original post and comments)
Yesterday, we had poetry from Julie Larios and George Ella Lyon. Tomorrow... Kenn Nesbitt and Graham Denton.Please click here for more information about this year's edition of 30 Poets/30 Days, including how to follow along.
Monday, November 25, 2013
"It's All Over Now!" - My Gratitude for the Power of Storytelling
Now screenwriter-moviegoer-me was sitting there thinking "dude, we're 20 minutes into the movie. It cannot be all over now!" And yet, throughout the film, each time something happened, that gentleman behind me was convinced that the end was nigh.
And you know what?
He loved that movie. And he experienced it exactly as the story was meant to be experienced.
Sometimes, I forget the sheer power of storytelling, and how grateful I am that others have mastered that art and that I get to enjoy it. Too often, I fear, I get caught up in the trappings - the fact that a movie has just started or that I'm only halfway through a book - rather than the experience.
I got a reminder of this yesterday when I saw the movie of Catching Fire. A few rows behind me were an older couple who clearly did not know the book at all. I like to think the male part of the couple was Mr.-It's-All-Over-Now.
The couple were talkers, and their comments were mostly those of discovery ("Oh, there's only one name they can pick from! It's gonna be her!") and of curiousity ("Is she dead? I think she's dead."). And they reminded me again that those who just let the narrative flow over them get a tremendously powerful experience.
The ability to lose ourselves in story is one that I'm grateful for. It is what powers my own writing, of course, and I need to remember to turn off the creator brain when I am reading or watching or listening. I need to stay connected to that power, and I'm grateful that I got a reminder of that yesterday.
And by the way, she wasn't dead. I knew that, of course... because I'd read the book. Yet I hope when I read it, I asked the same questions as that couple, even if I didn't say them out loud!
Monday, April 23, 2012
Thanhha Lai - The Last Hen
The Last Hen
by
Thanhha Lai
Brother Vũ yanks
the last garden greens
and divides into five portions
the last scallion omelet.
He saves
one potato
one carrot
one onion
to make stew
from the last hen running.
The hen screams
when we enter her shed,
stabs us with her beak,
writhes as if being tickled
when Brother Vũ slices
a red line
across her throat.
All day Brother Khôi
has refused to come down
from the attic.
The blood pudding,
we eat right away.
The stew must simmer
all night.
Still,
for breakfast,
we chew and chew meat
that might as well
be rubber bands.
The hen
exercised plenty
during her life.
April 28
Morning
© Thanhha Lai. All rights reserved.
Thanhha Lai won the 2011 National Book Award for Young People's Literature for her novel Inside Out & Back Again. It's a stunning book - a semi-autobiographical coming-of-age story about a young girl, Hà, and her family who flee Vietnam and end up in Alabama, written in a series of prose-poems. If you've read the book, you'll recognize character names in the poem above, as this is a piece that was removed from Inside Out in one of the last passes through. As a writer, all I can think is "the stuff cut out is pitch perfect, too???" As a reader, I want more, and not simply because it re-acquaints me with characters I loved spending time with. Nope. I. Just. Want. More.
Somewhat amazingly to me, Thanhha Lai had not written poems like this before Inside Out & Back Again. Call me crazy (you won't be the first), but I'm thinking she's pretty good at 'em. The imagery, the relationships, the humor, and the emotional power in the poems in Inside Out all serve the story, never showing off, never bringing attention to themselves, and never, from my point of view at least, taking a wrong step.
I hope she decides to try her hand at more, but I'm sure whatever's next will be well worth a read, no matter what form it comes to us in. I'm incredibly grateful to Thanhha Lai for sharing more of the world of Inside Out & Back Again with us here, and I'm really thrilled to have her here today as part of the fun at 30 Poets/30 Days.
Yesterday, we met A Kestrel Couple thanks to Robert L. Forbes. Tomorrow... Steve: A Cautionary Tale by Bruce Coville! For more on 30 Poets/30 Days and ways to follow along, please click here.
by
Thanhha Lai
Brother Vũ yanks
the last garden greens
and divides into five portions
the last scallion omelet.
He saves
one potato
one carrot
one onion
to make stew
from the last hen running.
The hen screams
when we enter her shed,
stabs us with her beak,
writhes as if being tickled
when Brother Vũ slices
a red line
across her throat.
All day Brother Khôi
has refused to come down
from the attic.
The blood pudding,
we eat right away.
The stew must simmer
all night.
Still,
for breakfast,
we chew and chew meat
that might as well
be rubber bands.
The hen
exercised plenty
during her life.
April 28
Morning
© Thanhha Lai. All rights reserved.
Somewhat amazingly to me, Thanhha Lai had not written poems like this before Inside Out & Back Again. Call me crazy (you won't be the first), but I'm thinking she's pretty good at 'em. The imagery, the relationships, the humor, and the emotional power in the poems in Inside Out all serve the story, never showing off, never bringing attention to themselves, and never, from my point of view at least, taking a wrong step.
I hope she decides to try her hand at more, but I'm sure whatever's next will be well worth a read, no matter what form it comes to us in. I'm incredibly grateful to Thanhha Lai for sharing more of the world of Inside Out & Back Again with us here, and I'm really thrilled to have her here today as part of the fun at 30 Poets/30 Days.
Yesterday, we met A Kestrel Couple thanks to Robert L. Forbes. Tomorrow... Steve: A Cautionary Tale by Bruce Coville! For more on 30 Poets/30 Days and ways to follow along, please click here.
Sunday, March 07, 2010
Sharing Stories: A Gift That Lasts a Lifetime
When I was growing up, my father had one favorite book to read aloud to me: The Story of Ferdinand by Munro Leaf (with illustrations by Robert Lawson). Well, actually, our copy was El Cuento de Ferdinando translated into Spanish by Pura Belpré, (with my father's re-translation back into English handwritten on each page by my mother).
In my memory, this was my goodnight book off and on for many years, sometimes read in English and sometimes in Spanish (which I didn't and sadly still don't understand).
In truth, I have no idea how many times I heard the story, but the words, the feeling, and the experience of sharing that time with my father all had an impact on me. A positive one.
My father read other books, too, and shared stories from newspapers, magazines, and wherever else he found them. When I headed off to college, he emailed stories he'd find to me (and I emailed ones I'd find back to him).
Later, I moved to Los Angeles, leaving my computer science degree unused to pursue my dream of being a screenwriter. Was that the influence of Ferdinand sending me off to find my own path? Perhaps. Certainly, my father smiled at the choice. Soon, I was writing stories... and my father was always one of my first readers.
I have two boys of my own now. I love to read aloud to them. I share books and poems and stories snuggled on the couch and from the front of the car and huddled around my computer and shouted from across the room and, well, wherever we are and wherever we find stories. They already share back.
I know research shows how important it is to read aloud to children. Literacy is so critical and that alone should be reason enough for dads (and moms) to read to their kids. But for me, the reasons to read aloud and share stories go deeper still.
When you share stories, they became part of the way you communicate. My father and I could use stories to share what excited us, to learn and teach, to help decipher the world, to connect with each other even thousands of miles apart. Understanding stories helped broaden my world and has made my life richer.
Best of all, though, sharing stories creates a bond, and a surprisingly strong one at that. And reading aloud with your child begins the process.
I've been the volunteer librarian at my sons' school for five years now, and when I walk across campus, it's not at all unusual for a student to run up to me to tell me what they're reading or to share a story of their own. Even there, with me only reading to them once a week, story has created a connection. You can capture that at home. It isn't hard.
Pick your favorite books or let your child pick. Read what excites you from a magazine or newspaper or read what you think might excite them. Be enthusiastic, no matter what you're reading (even when it's a book you can't believe they like), and show your child that you have the time for them, that you care what they like, that you are listening, and you are sharing.
And remember, reading aloud is an experience... a shared moment... and not a race to the end of the story.
By reading aloud, you will make a positive impact, often in ways you never even contemplated.
You see, my father passed away about a dozen years ago. Yet to this day, when I see any copy of The Story of Ferdinand, not just my childhood copy which I still have, I can hear my father reading to me...
And like Ferdinand himself, I am very happy.
So share a story. Shape a future. Read aloud to your kids and give a gift that lasts a lifetime.
(I'm proud to be a part of the kick off day of Share a Story - Shape a Future, a week-long reading and literacy related blog event. Click through to learn more and see links to some wonderful posts throughout the blogosphere.)
Sunday, May 01, 2011
Kathi Appelt - What Was She Thinking
What Was She Thinking?
by
Kathi Appelt
It’s the question her mother keeps asking.
That her only child could stop the train,
Snap her fingers and make it screech to a halt?
And now if only
are the only two words this mother can say.
If only she knew why the girl
looked up just in time to see
the golden beam of the engine’s light,
thought, how close is the moon, reached out to touch it.
Why she patted the dashboard of her new red Mustang,
the one her daddy gave her when she turned sixteen.
Now, she whispered, now. All her faith
in speed and gasoline, St. Christopher
dangling from the rearview mirror.
She would cry if she could remember how.
Her mother can’t stop crying.
And what about the engineer,
making his regular run between New Orleans
and Houston, sipping a cup of coffee
watching for deer along the tracks.
He always loved this time of night, the way
they turn and run,
their tails a white flash of goodbyes.
Now, he can’t bear the sight of them,
only looks straight ahead,
startled by each and every crossing,
so sorry for the lonesome
holy dark.
©2011 Kathi Appelt. All rights reserved.
True confession time: I haven't always been a fan of free verse, and that fact often still hovers way in the back of my brain. When I read Kathi Appelt's poetry, however, that distant thought never crosses my mind. I don't think there's time, really, as I'm instantly caught up (like I was last time she was here), engaged, reveling in well turned phrases and perfect, juicy words... even when the subject matter's not easy.
Her fiction's the same way. Her most recent novel, Keeper, ended up on seven slews of year-end 'best' lists, and followed up her Newbery Honor/National Book Award finalist The Underneath with more of the wonderful, poetic writing that just plain works for me (and, clearly, for many, many, many others!). I am, as I said last time, a fan indeed... and am very excited to have Kathi Appelt here wrapping up this year's edition of 30 Poets/30 Days.
(Greg's note: Kathi was the first poet to send me a poem this year. I had written up a draft post of hers first thing... then, in some frenzy of rescheduling, I made some still unknown to me error that left her post in the ether. I apologize for that but am thrilled to be able to close this year's celebration down with her now.)
Yesterday we had The Alphabet: A Found Poem by Jane Yolen. Tomorrow... a wrap up of the 2011 festivities!
by
Kathi Appelt
It’s the question her mother keeps asking.
That her only child could stop the train,
Snap her fingers and make it screech to a halt?
And now if only
are the only two words this mother can say.
If only she knew why the girl
looked up just in time to see
the golden beam of the engine’s light,
thought, how close is the moon, reached out to touch it.
Why she patted the dashboard of her new red Mustang,
the one her daddy gave her when she turned sixteen.
Now, she whispered, now. All her faith
in speed and gasoline, St. Christopher
dangling from the rearview mirror.
She would cry if she could remember how.
Her mother can’t stop crying.
And what about the engineer,
making his regular run between New Orleans
and Houston, sipping a cup of coffee
watching for deer along the tracks.
He always loved this time of night, the way
they turn and run,
their tails a white flash of goodbyes.
Now, he can’t bear the sight of them,
only looks straight ahead,
startled by each and every crossing,
so sorry for the lonesome
holy dark.
©2011 Kathi Appelt. All rights reserved.
True confession time: I haven't always been a fan of free verse, and that fact often still hovers way in the back of my brain. When I read Kathi Appelt's poetry, however, that distant thought never crosses my mind. I don't think there's time, really, as I'm instantly caught up (like I was last time she was here), engaged, reveling in well turned phrases and perfect, juicy words... even when the subject matter's not easy.
Her fiction's the same way. Her most recent novel, Keeper, ended up on seven slews of year-end 'best' lists, and followed up her Newbery Honor/National Book Award finalist The Underneath with more of the wonderful, poetic writing that just plain works for me (and, clearly, for many, many, many others!). I am, as I said last time, a fan indeed... and am very excited to have Kathi Appelt here wrapping up this year's edition of 30 Poets/30 Days.
(Greg's note: Kathi was the first poet to send me a poem this year. I had written up a draft post of hers first thing... then, in some frenzy of rescheduling, I made some still unknown to me error that left her post in the ether. I apologize for that but am thrilled to be able to close this year's celebration down with her now.)
Yesterday we had The Alphabet: A Found Poem by Jane Yolen. Tomorrow... a wrap up of the 2011 festivities!
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