30 Poets/Day 30 - Pat Mora and Walter Dean Myers

What a month! And today's poems by Pat Mora and Walter Dean Myers seem like a perfect way to close, at least to me. It has been a thrill for me to share poetry this month by soooooo many poets who I admire so much (59 to be exact!). And thanks for hanging out with us!

Books & Me
by
Pat Mora

We belong
together,
books and me,
like toast and jelly
o queso y tortillas.
Delicious! ¡Delicioso!
Like flowers and bees,
birds and trees,
books and me.

©2009 Pat Mora. All rights reserved.

---

Walking
by
Walter Dean Myers

How come my feet know how to meet
The sidewalk as I walk?
          “Because of your brain, my love.”
How come my lips don’t ever slip
As I begin to talk?
          “Your lovely brain, my pet”
How come my knees fly through the breeze
As I race along?
          “Did I mention your B-R-A-I-N?”
How come my ears know what to hear
When I listen to a song?
          “They’re connected to your brain!”
How come my eyes can judge the size
Of everything they see?
          “Your brain, dummy!”
How come my wrists know how to twist
A knob or turn a key?
          “BRAIN! BRAIN! BRAIN! Use it!”
And how come my belly button just sits there in the middle of my stomach without doing one little bit of work, gets these little lint things in it, and feels funny if I touch it?

          “Err…beats me.”

© Walter Dean Myers. All rights reserved.
(click here to see the original post and comments)

Yesterday we had poetry from Douglas Florian and Liz Garton Scanlon. Today wraps up 30 Poets/30 Days for 2014! Tomorrow, please check out my feature on Andrew Huang, composer of the theme song for my middle grade novel, The 14 Fibs of Gregory K. And while there's poetry all year round here at GottaBook, make sure you come back this Friday for a wrap up of this year's poetic festivities!

Please click here for more information about this year's edition of 30 Poets/30 Days, including how to follow along all the future such events here at GottaBook.

30 Poets/Day 29 - Douglas Florian and Liz Garton Scanlon

It's a good day when you have Douglas Florian and Liz Garton Scanlon gracing your blog, I say. (And I say this even though back in 2009, due to my executive functioning skills, I didn't end up with a previously unpublished Douglas Florian poem so went into improv mode and shared a poem of his that's always stuck with me.) Riddles, laughs, beauty...  I will miss this month when it passes, I must say....

Styropoem
by
Douglas Florian

I think I've never
Seen a poem
To praise a piece
of Styrofoam.
I've waited years -
I'm waiting still.
I guess I never
Ever
Will.

I was inspired by that poem (from Bing Bang Boing). So I sat down and wrote the following:

Ode to a Piece of Styrofoam
(For Douglas Florian)
by
Greg Pincus

Styrofoam's good -
There is no debate.
And Styrofoam won't
Disintegrate!

(click here to see the original post and comments)

---

Reflecting
by
Liz Garton Scanlon

I’m your moody friend with a changing face
looking out from deep in space.

I’m peppermint candy, cold but sweet,
and lantern light on a sleepy street.

I’m not afraid of howling dogs,
I cut through morning’s thickest fogs.

I brighten baby’s lullaby
with a twinkle in my eye.


I conduct the ocean tides
and set the stage for midnight rides.

A calendar for keeping time –
sharp as a sword, round as a dime.

I tempt the astronauts each night
while I rob Sun of extra light.

Golden as an apple pie,
but twice as big and twice as high.


Waxing now but soon I’ll wane,
then always come around again.

Friend to possums, hungry bats,
spotlight for the prowling cats,

I share my shine, for what it’s worth,
with everyone upon the earth.

I’m your companion in the sky
but do you know me? Who am I?

© 2010 Liz Garton Scanlon. All rights reserved.
(click here to see the original post and comments)

Yesterday we had poems from April Halprin Wayland and Francisco X. Alarcón. Tomorrow, we finish up the month with Walter Dean Myers and Pat Mora.

Please click here for more information about this year's edition of 30 Poets/30 Days, including how to follow along.

30 Poets/Day 28 - April Halprin Wayland and Francisco X. Alarcón

OK, here on day 28 with April Halprin Wayland and Francisco X. Alarcón and my search for daily themes once again leads me to say "I love poetry! That's the theme! POETRY!" Yup. I've done a good job this month not going all fanboy on y'all, but geeeeez, once again I gotta say... I love these poems, and hope you do, too.

HOW TO READ A POEM ALOUD
by
April Halprin Wayland

First, read the title of the poem

and the poet’s name.


Be clear.


Now completely

disappear.


Let each line

shine.


Then read it

one more time.

When the poem

ends, sigh.


Think about the poet at her desk,
late at night, picking up her pen to write…

and why.

© 2009 April Halprin Wayland. All rights reserved.
(click here to see the original post and comments)

---

Listen/Escucha
by
Francisco X. Alarcón

Listen “listen, mijito we are never really alone” whispers my grandma to my ear like a flapping hummingbird in the dark “the wind the stars the sea never stop speaking to each of us”

Escucha “escucha, mijito nunca estamos solos en realidad” me susurra mi abuelita como colibrí aleteando junto a mi oído en la oscuridad “el viento las estrellas el mar a cada uno no nos dejan de hablar”

© 2010 Francisco X. Alarcón. All rights reserved.
(click here to see the original post and comments)

Yesterday we had poetry from Kenn Nesbitt and Graham Denton. Tomorrow... Douglas Florian and Liz Garton Scanlon.

Please click here for more information about this year's edition of 30 Poets/30 Days, including how to follow along.

30 Poets/Day 27 - Kenn Nesbitt and Graham Denton

When you have Kenn Nesbitt and Graham Denton on the same day, well, it's a day of smiles and smarts in poetry form (aka, a good day!). And thanks to Kenn, people arrive at my blog after typing "chicken on internet" on Google. That's poetic, too, in its own way!

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.

© 2009 Kenn Nesbitt. All rights reserved.
(click here to see the original post and comments)

---

Sounds Delightful
by
Graham Denton

Sounds of scary night-time creatures:
howling wolves and screeching bats,
wailing witches, cackling demons,
giggling goblins, keening cats;
ghostly sounds to make one shiver:
haunting screams and ghastly groans;
rattling chains and shrieks of horror—
noises that will chill the bones;
creaking floorboards, footsteps creeping,
voices from beyond the grave...
when they’re having trouble sleeping
that’s what infant monsters crave!

©2010 Graham Denton. All rights reserved.
(click here to see the original post and comments)

Yesterday gave us poetry by Joan Bransfield Graham and Jacqueline Woodson. Tomorrow... April Halprin Wayland and Francisco X. Alarcón.

Please click here for more information about this year's edition of 30 Poets/30 Days, including how to follow along.

30 Poets/Day 26 - Joan Bransfield Graham and Jacqueline Woodson

Once again, with these works by Joan Bransfield Graham and Jacqueline Woodson, here are two totally different types of poems, both of which will knock your socks off.

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.

30 Poets/Day 25 - Julie Larios and George Ella Lyon

Ahhh, yes. Aren't these poems by Julie Larios and George Ella Lyon just gorgeous? That's why I chose them for the 25th, International Gorgeous Poem Day (newly minted by me). OK, fine. But they are wonderful words in perfect order.... Enjoy!


NO STRINGS ATTACHED
Julie Larios

If I were a kite
with no strings to hold me,
I 'd let the wind take me –
I'd let the crows scold me,
I'd float through the sky
with the sun on my shoulders.
The clouds would all bite
at my ears. I'd be bolder
than bold, I’d dance, I'd go soaring—
a life in the sky could never be boring.

I'd fly over houses then over the tops
of skyscraping buildings
but I wouldn't stop there, I'd sail over sailboats
and islands
and oceans.
I’d drive the world loco with my locomotion.

Diving and squawking,
The seagulls would show me the migrating whales
as they spouted below me.
Over Kansas and Kashmir,
the hot sands of Cairo,
Mt. Fuji, Mt. Everest –
higher and higher—
wheatfields would wave to me,
deserts would sigh.
Icebergs would stare as I rose in the sky.

The sun would be one friend,
the bright moon another.
And what would the stars be
but sisters and brothers?

I'd know all the secrets the sky's never told me
if I were a wild kite
with no strings to hold me.

©2009 Julie Larios. All rights reserved.
(click here to see the original post and comments)

---

TRYING TO GET OUT OF MY TREE
by
George Ella Lyon
(according to the Celtic Tree Calendar
my birthday makes me a Willow)

How about a willow
         that doesn’t weep
that spikes her green tresses
         and carries on sturdy
like some punk oak

or gets that groovy bark
         like a hackberry

O willow
what if I don’t want to be
weeping
or witched
what if I want to be

royal like the oak
strong enough to be a ship

or abloom with love
like the apple

or sacred like the pine?

Am I stuck here
by the water
enchanted against my own
willowy
will?

©2010 George Ella Lyon. All rights reserved.
(click here to see the original post and comments)

Yesterday we had poetry from J. Patrick Lewis and Georgia Heard. Tomorrow... Joan Bransfield Graham and Jacqueline Woodson.  And hey... check out the Poetry Friday roundup over at The Opposite of Indifference for a whole slew of poetry month joy!

Please click here for more information about this year's edition of 30 Poets/30 Days, including how to follow along.

30 Poets/Day 24 - J. Patrick Lewis and Georgia Heard

It's Day 24 of 30 Poets/30 Days and today, with J. Patrick Lewis and Georgia Heard poems for you, I present theme-by-coincidence: poems that are about poetry! Maybe it's my "day after Shakespeare's birthday" tribute? Or maybe, as before, it's just two great poems shared a year part. You be the judge....

The Poet of the World
by
J. Patrick Lewis

"How ho-ho-hum has the planet become!"
      Cried the Poet of the World.
"I must sonnet the wind, sestina the sea."
      Then he dipped his pen and he swirled

Out a poem where braves become braver, and knaves
      Wander under a vinegar sky,
And a Duchess receives purely innocent thieves
      Who are normally camera-shy.

"The heroes are villains, the geniuses mad!"
      So he spun them a roundelay.
"All the people who live in the Ivory Land
      Would be happier villanelle gray."

Then he thought, "I must metaphor girls in gold
      And simile boys in blue."
He looked up from his Book, and he said, "I forgot,
      Which character are you?"

©2009 J. Patrick Lewis. All rights reserved.
From A Countdown to Summer: A Poem for Every Day of the School Year – Little, Brown, Ethan Long, illustrator
(click here to see the original post and comments)

---

Ars Poetica

by
Georgia Heard

In September, small poems lay
still and silent inside your hearts.
If you listened carefully,
you might have heard
the quivering of wings.

In January, from the corner
of your eye, you could have spied
a flutter or two –
poems slowly unfolding,
delicate silken wings.

In April, poems began to appear everywhere!
Rainbow wings beating, flapping,
hovering over desks, hanging
from the ceiling, tips of noses, tops of heads.
It was difficult to get any work done!

Now, your butterfly poems
fly free. You fold the memory
into your hearts. Poems --
small butterflies raised, watched,
let loose into the world.

©2010 Georgia Heard. All rights reserved.
(click here to see the original post and comments)

Yesterday we had poems from Nikki Giovanni and Charles R. Smith, Jr. Tomorrow... Julie Larios and George Ella Lyon.

Please click here for more information about this year's edition of 30 Poets/30 Days, including how to follow along. 

30 Poets/Day 23 - Nikki Giovanni and Charles R. Smith, Jr.

Here on Day 23 with Nikki Giovanni and Charles R. Smith, Jr. poems, I'm reminded again that the unifying factor every day in 30 Poets/30 Days is "good poetry by amazing poets." Doesn't mean I won't search for other themes, of cousre (hey, it worked for Earth Day!), but today I am happy to share good poetry by two amazing poets!

My Sister and Me
by
Nikki Giovanni

Chocolate cookies
Chocolate cakes
Chocolate fudge
Chocolate lakes
Chocolate kisses
Chocolate hugs
Two little chocolate girls
In a chocolate rug

No one can find us
We're all alone
Two little chocolate girls
Running from home

Chocolate chickies
Chocolate bunnies
Chocolate smiles
From chocolate mommies
Chocolate rabbits
Chocolate snakes
Two little chocolate girls
Wide awake

What an adventure
My, what fun
My sister and me
Still on the run
Still on the run
My sister and me
Still
On the run

©2009 Nikki Giovanni. All rights reserved.
(click here to see the original post and comments)

---

I Speak
By
Charles R. Smith, Jr.

I
speak
for those who are meek,
for those who cover ears
to silence sirens and shrieks
shouted from mothers
with mascara-stained cheeks
sobbing over souls
slain in the streets
leaving generation gaps,
so
I speak.

I speak
for those living in silence,
quieted by criminals
with a history of violence,
for those whose lives
were changed by the demise
of loved ones lost
right before their own eyes,
for them,
I speak.

I
speak
for young eyes that see
bruises branded by daddy’s
fists on mommy,
battering her body
scarring her soul
turning her children’s
warm hearts cold
forcing their faces
to hide and seek
shelter from rage
for them
I speak.

I speak
for the illiterate and weak,
those who slip through the cracks
and fall on the streets
and scratch for salvation
without food, shelter or heat,
for those who are lost,
for them,
I speak.

These words that I say,
these words that I speak
give voice to the silent,
scared and weak.

These words that I speak,
these words that I say
challenge everyone
to listen
everyday.

©2009 Charles R. Smith, Jr. All rights reserved.
(click here to see the original post and comments)

Yesterday we had poems from Janet Wong and Heidi Mordhorst. Tomorrow...  J. Patrick Lewis and Georgia Heard.

Please click here for more information about this year's edition of 30 Poets/30 Days, including how to follow along. 

30 Poets/Day 22 - Janet Wong and Heidi Mordhorst

So, here on April 22 with poems by Janet Wong and Heidi Mordhorst there actually IS a theme... because the 22nd is Earth Day and these poems are thematically Earth Day friendly (besides being strong in their own right for any day). So here's to our Earth and to poetry, two of my favorite things.

My Green Grandfather
by
Janet Wong

If you praised my grandfather
for being green,
he would check his favorite flannel shirt
and say, "You see paint?"

But he is as green
as the snow peas he grows in his garden.
Green as the old glass jars in his garage
that hold pins and nails and hinges.
Green as the avocados he buys
from the little store on the corner.

If I praised my grandfather
for his small carbon footprint,
he would check the bottom of his shoes for dirt,
then say, "Size 10 EEE."

I walk on my tiptoes beside him.

©2009 Janet Wong. All rights reserved.
(click here to see the original post and comments)

---

Smaller Than I Thought
       for Mrs. Alexander’s Class
by
Heidi Mordhorst

Here at the Earth Day Party in the park
they’re cutting the Earth Day Cake:
rich chocolate to stand for the soil,
swirls of green and blue frosting
to represent land and water.
The white icing at the Poles
is melting under the
unseasonably hot April sun.

It’s smaller than I thought.
The pieces are small, too.

There’s no point in asking for seconds;
in fact, there isn’t enough to go around.
Some of us will have to share
one slice of Earth Day Cake between us.
I don’t know the kid who comes
to sit beside me on the lawn.
“Let’s take tiny nibbles to make it
last longer,” he suggests. I nod,

and we gingerly dig our two forks
into one small slice of the blue Pacific.

© Heidi Mordhorst. all rights reserved
(click here to see the original post and comments)

Yesterday brought us poems by Greg Pincus and Tracie Vaughn Zimmer. Tomorrow... Nikki Giovanni and Charles R. Smith, Jr.

Please click here for more information about this year's edition of 30 Poets/30 Days, including how to follow along.

SCBWI Summer Conference Registration is Open, And...

... I'm on faculty this year, so I say you must attend so we can chat!

Have you seen the lineup of keynote presenters? Wow. Every year I think "yeah, but who will they give us next year?" And each year the conference has incredible people, and I sigh and say "geez, who will they get NEXT year?" It's an amazing lineup of breakout sessions, too.

As part of the Conference, I'm offering a limited number of social media consultations that you can sign up for (there's a fee, just like the manuscript consults). For the summer con, I'm adding in more, more, more than what I've done with these consults at other events... and folks tell me those are worth it as is.

If you've got questions about the consults or my breakout session (whose title includes the word Pintwitfacegramblr in its name), just ask. Most of all, I hope you'll be there this summer so we can hang out!

Register for the event right here!

30 Poets/Day 21 - Greg Pincus and Tracie Vaughn Zimmer

Elephants and pasta both have natural ties to the 21st of April because... huh. I guess the fact is that Greg Pincus (a.k.a. me!) and Tracie Vaughn Zimmer appeared on this day was as random as I expected. Today's poems further show, I think, that you can go anywhere with poetry. And that, my friends, is unquestionably good!


I Went to the Farm Where Spaghetti Is Grown
by
Greg Pincus

I went to the farm where spaghetti is grown
In rows of long vines in a field of its own.
It grows in the shade of the great ziti trees,
Right next to the bushes that grow mac-and-cheese.
Lasagna plants bloom alongside manicotti,
And orchards of angel hair grow long and knotty.
I watched as a tractor plowed rows of linguini,
And cheered at the harvest of fresh tortellini.
I helped as the farmer cleared fields full of weeds
Then planted a crop using orzo as seeds.
We watered his land that was miles across
Then fertilized amply with meatballs and sauce.
When I left that farm where spaghetti is grown
In rows of long vines in a field of its own,
I thought it the greatest place under the sky...
'Til I saw the farm where they only grow pie!

©2009 Gregory K. Pincus. All rights reserved.
(click here to see the original post and comments)

---

Cousins of Clouds
by
Tracie Vaughn Zimmer

Long, long ago,
before man tamed words on the page
and when elephants
were great kings of the sky,
ruling the storms,
inking out the sun,
stampeding across the stars,
there was a great counselor and prophet
who traveled to the most remote mountain villages
to share all he knew.
As word spread of the master’s visit,
many gathered under the arms
of an ancient elm,
and even a great flock of
elephants swooped in with
the first ribbons of dawn
to perch in the branches and listen.
But a quarrel erupted
among the elephants
over who had the best view,
causing the limbs of the tree
to fracture and fall,
crushing all but the prophet himself.
Furious,
the prophet invoked a dreadful curse,
shriveling the elephants’ prized wings
into pitiful ears,
chaining the elephant
to gravity and man’s will
for all eternity.
To this very day
you can see the poor elephants
flapping their ears,
dreaming of flight,
but now only
cousins of clouds.

© Tracie Vaughn Zimmer. All rights reserved.
From the collection Cousins of Clouds
illustrated by Megan Halsey and Sean Addy
Clarion, February 2011  
(click here to see the original post and comments)

Yesterday gave us poems by Jane Yolen and Brad Bogart. Tomorrow... Janet Wong and Heidi Mordhorst.

Please click here for more information about this year's edition of 30 Poets/30 Days, including how to follow along.

30 Poets/Day 20 - Jane Yolen and Brod Bagert

Teachers and personification are well treated by Jane Yolen and Brod Bagert here at the 2/3 mark of National Poetry Month and 30 Poets/30 Days. Sure, the fun goes on all year in these parts - and for every poet who's part of this and probably most of you, as well - but it's so fun to have even more people celebrating poetry for a spell, too. So, today let's celebrate with Jane and Brod... and poetry party on!

My Teacher
by
Jane Yolen

My teacher's tall,
My teacher's small,
My teacher's white,
Black, tan.
My teacher is a woman,
My teacher is a man.

My teacher's thin,
My teacher's fat,
My teacher's in-between.
My teacher's always very nice.
Sometimes my teacher's mean.

My teacher has a quiet voice,
My teacher's voice is loud
And you can hear her speaking out
Above the wildest crowd.

My teacher is a riot.
My teacher never smiles.
My teacher lives right near the school.
My teacher travels miles.

My teacher's younger than my mom.
My teacher's very old.
My teacher's hands are nice and warm.
My teacher's hands are cold.

But when I'm feeling lonely, scared,
Or having a bad day
I take my teacher's hand and then
Those feelings go away.

©2009 Jane Yolen. All rights reserved.
(click here to see the original post and comments)

---

              Personification
How to Make a Poem that Flies
                      by
                Brod Bagert

If you want to put some life in a poem,
a little extra heart,
you might find that personification
is a pretty good place to start.

Make things act like they’re alive!
It’s a poetry delight.
Watch how I use it now to say—
“It was a stormy night.”

     The clouds began to growl!

     The wind began to cry!

     The moon got scared and disappeared,

     she didn’t say goodbye.

So in your poems, or in your prose,
or in your conversation
look for little clever ways
to insert a personification.

It’ll get to be a habit,
one of those everyday things,
one of the ways a poet learns
to give a poem its wings.

Then if your poem can find someone
to read its words out loud,
those wings will fill with air and soar
above the highest cloud.

© 2010 Brod Bagert. All rights reserved.
(click here to see the original post and comments)

Yesterday gave us poems by Arnold Adoff and David L. Harrison. Tomorrow... Greg Pincus and Tracy Vaughn Zimmer.

Please click here for more information about this year's edition of 30 Poets/30 Days, including how to follow along.

30 Poets/Day 19 - Arnold Adoff and David L. Harrison

Once again we have two poems that are very, very different - this time from Arnold Adoff and David L. Harrison - once again showing the amazing ability of poetry to allow us to express the whole range of human emotion and experience (for kids and adults). So here then is an all April cheer - yay, poetry!

From Arnold Adoff:

n o  justice   n o p e a c e

o f   course:
t r u e   change   is always   too   slow
and   o u r   b e s t   hopes   rest   with
s t e a d y
on
beyond   our   own   times

the   t r u e   revolutions    h a p p e n
within  the  covers  of our  best books
inside the noises of words with words
inside the movements of reading eyes

so:
the  writers    are   the   engines
the  artists     are   the   engines
and   the    women    and    men
and   the   girls   and   the   boys
read ing    those    noisy    books
all  are   engines  of true change

the   words  contain  the  power
and the books  must  have  that
power  and  the  noise  of    that
story and the shout of that song
must always be  louder than the
silence  of the  bullets  and   the
silent   deaths  of  grim   despair

we   m o v e  forward  with   love

the   s t r u g g l e  c o n t I n u e s

©2009 arnold adoff. all rights reserved.
(click here to see the original post and comments)

---

Lookit!
by
David L. Harrison

Lookit!
Lookit me!
My toes grew roots!
I’m a tree!

You say, “Whoa!”
and I say, “I know!”

Lookit my limbs.
They’re big and huge and strong!

You go, “How did your limbs
get to be so big and huge and strong?”
and I go, “I don’t know, they just did.”

And lookit my branches!
They’re all full of storks and parrots
and ostriches building nests!

You say, “Wow! How did you get so many birds?”
and I go, “Because I’m so big and huge and strong,”
and you say, “Oh yeah, I forgot.”

My bark is the toughest bark in the whole world
so no one can chop me down.

Act like you’re a tree chopper with this huge ax –
the biggest ax in the whole world –
and you try and try
but you can’t even make a little chip in my bark
and you go,
“I can’t even make a little chip in your bark,”
and I say, “I know.”

Pretend you see a hippopotamus
making a nest on my tallest branch
and you say, “Wait a minute,
hippopotamuses can’t fly!”
and I go, “This one can,”
and you go, ”How?”
and I go, “Because he’s magic,”
and you just fall down on the ground
because you’ve never seen a magic hippopotamus.

Wait!
Now lookit my toes.
They just grew claws!
I’m not a tree.
Forget about that.
I’m a cat.

© 2010 David L. Harrison. All rights reserved.
(Click here to see the original post and comments)

Yesterday brought us poetry by Kristine O'Connell George and Elaine Magliaro. Tomorrow... Jane Yolen and Brod Bagert.

Please click here for more information about this year's edition of 30 Poets/30 Days, including how to follow along.

30 Poets/Day 18 - Kristine O'Connell George and Elaine Magliaro

Although there's no set theme to April 18, today's poems by Kristine O'Connell George and Elaine Magliaro are both about creatures/characters that could be in a scary movie and both make me laugh by twisting in an unexpected way. That twist-ing is something I love in books and movies, too, and I'm always happy to share good examples of it with y'all in poem form....

Skeleton at Dinner
by
Kristine O'Connell George

I heard you shout
              Soup's on!

I rattled in,
              sat, slurped.

Soup's in—
                        soup's out.

© 2009 Kristine O'Connell George. All rights reserved.
(click here to see the original post and comments)

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THINGS TO DO IF YOU ARE KING KONG
By
Elaine Magliaro

Be BIG.
You dig?
What’s more—
You gotta ROAR.
Show your power.
Scale a tower.
Beat your chest.
AND
Don’t forget to wear
A bulletproof vest!

© 2010 Elaine Magliaro. All rights reserved.
(Click here to see the original post and comments)

Yesterday brought us poems by Jon Scieszka and James Carter. Tomorrow... Arnold Adoff and David L. Harrison.

Please click here for more information about this year's edition of 30 Poets/30 Days, including how to follow along.

30 Poets/Day 17 - Jon Scieszka and James Carter

Day 17 brings us Jon Scieszka and James Carter, both of whom tip their hats to poets who have come before. Okay, fine, maybe Jon Scieszka isn't tipping his hat, exactly. Or maybe he is. Discuss among yourselves, I say. But no matter - I love both poems and am happy to be sharing them again....

            200 Typing Monkeys
                Almost Make It
                          by
Emily Dickinson and Jon Scieszka

I never saw a moor,
I never saw the sea;
Yet know I how the heather looks,
And what a wave must be.

I never spoke with God,
Nor visited in heaven;
Yet certain am I of the spot
As if the chart were a whole bunch of giant deliciously ripe bananas.

© 2009 National Simian Scribe Project. Some rights reversed.
(Click here to see the original post and comments)

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Clouds Like Us
a poem for Mr. Wordsworth
       @@@@
        @@@
          ! !
           ! !
You're n e v e r lonely as a cloud
for like the sheep, you're with the crowd.
And then there's always loads to do
like soak a fete or barbeque.

Clouds are water - boiled you know.
We're recycled H20.
Stream to sea to cloud to rain
ever moving through a chain.

How we love it when it's warm.
For then we cook a mighty storm.
When it's time to help some flowers
we'll brew up those April showers.

Going back to our CV-
we’ve a range of skills you see
snow to hail and mist to fog -
to forming shapes for you to spot!

Sunny spell? Oh we'll be back.
You'll need some rain - and that's a fact.
We're high as kites and cool as jazz.
That's clouds like us - our life's a gas!
                                                         !
                                                     !
                                                         !
                                                            !
                                                         !
                                                               !

© 2010 James Carter. All rights reserved.
(Click here to see the original post and comments)

Yesterday brought us poems by Betsy Franco and Bobbi Katz. Tomorrow... Kristine O'Connell George and Elaine Magliaro.

Please click here for more information about this year's edition of 30 Poets/30 Days, including how to follow along.

30 Poets/Day 16 - Betsy Franco and Bobbi Katz

I love the different perspectives that Betsy Franco and Bobbi Katz write from in these two poems... and how each perspective rings so true. Which, of course, is part of the fun I have each year putting 30 Poets/30 Days together - I get to see the world through other eyes. And today... so do you!


Me and Joe Lining Up After Recess
by
Betsy Franco

We race
for the front

   bunch up
      and bump,
           wiggle,
                 giggle,
          push,
      pull,
           trip,
                 tease,
                       jab,
                           grab,
                 poke,
           pinch,
   squish,
squeeze.

Then teacher gives the quiet sign.
Says,
"You two go to the end of the line!"

© 2009 Betsy Franco. All rights reserved.
from Messing Around on the Monkey Bars, and other school poems for two voices
(Click here to see the original post and comments)

---

Lesson (working title)
by
Bobbi Katz

On this daffodilicious day
I am judging a community poetry contest
               in a distant city
swimming on waves of words.
A tsunami of images and emotions
     is carrying me
               deep,
so deep
        into other lives: Lives of children
who hear things no child should hear.
Lives of adults aching for lost loved ones.
Wounded veterans invisible to passers-by.
Kids fearing death before college.
Teens fenced-in by peer pressure…
or parents living through them…
I do not know their names or faces.
Poems have introduced me to their hearts.

And how to choose just three “winners”
  for each category
  and just three “honorable mentions”?
Each poet is a winner. Each is honorable.
I winnow the piles
      Down
down,
      down
         until I too
            am
                down.
Sadness swells over my head
sweeping me off my feet.
I know I must take a break.

I walk outside.
Earth sings green and yellow spring songs.
I stretch my arms out and look up.
A young child's poem appears.
Each letter written in a different color:

The sky is in

the sky is in

the sky is in

   the sky.

Imagine a sunshined heart of many colors
Blossoming beneath the poem,
completing it.

 Yes! I'll remember this fine lesson:
   this fine poem
written by a child in a distant city.

© 2010 Bobbi Katz. All rights reserved.
(Click here to see the original post and comments)

Yesterday we had poems from Mary Ann Hoberman and Eileen Spinelli. Tomorrow... Jon Scieszka and James Carter.

Please click here for more information about this year's edition of 30 Poets/30 Days, including how to follow along.

30 Poets/Day 15 - Mary Ann Hoberman and Eileen Spinelli

Halfway through April, and here come Mary Ann Hoberman and Eileen Spinelli bringing you insects and animals (some extinct, some not). I can safely say I've yet to determine any sort of "daily themes" as I combine years... other than the theme of sharing poetry written by rather remarkable poets. But that'll do!

I Dreamt I Saw a Dinosaur
by
Mary Ann Hoberman

I dreamt I saw a dinosaur
         Who stretched up very high.
I dreamt I saw a dinosaur
         Who towered to the sky.
I dreamt I saw a dinosaur
         Who told me with a sigh,
"I dreamt I saw a dinosaur
         Who dreamt he saw a dinosaur
Who dreamt he saw a dinosaur
         Who dreamt he saw a fly."

©2009 Mary Ann Hoberman. All rights reserved.
(Click here to see the original post and comments)

---

PRAYING MANTIS
by
Eileen Spinelli

Praying mantis
near my door
I wonder what
you're praying for.
A meal, perhaps,
a gentle wife,
a simple
well-blessed
mantis life?
And should the day
bring rain
and thunder,
a sturdy leaf
to shelter under.

© 2010 Eileen Spinelli. All rights reserved.
(Click here to see the original post and comments)

Yesterday we had poems from Linda Sue Park and Arthur A. Levine. Tomorrow... Betsy Franco and Bobbi Katz.

Please click here for more information on this year's edition of 30 Poets/30 Days, including how to follow along.

30 Poets/Day 14 - Linda Sue Park and Arthur A. Levine

I can remember the moment when I first read each of these poems - by Linda Sue Park and Arthur A. Levine, respectively - because they both struck me with some serious oomph. Other poems grow on me, some I never connect with, but when I read one that just zings me right away... yeah, those are good things, I tell you. So... here are two good things!


Villanelle: Why I Love Libraries
by
Linda Sue Park

I lose myself within the book-walled maze,
with no end to the promises in sight,
through passages to many worlds and ways.

The aisles meander pleasantly. A craze
of unread pages beckons, tempts, invites;
I lose myself. Within the book-walled maze

a googolplex of lexical arrays
for exploration flanks me left and right.
True passages to many; worlds and ways

that lead to corners sharp with turns of phrase,
and tales both commonplace and recondite
to lose myself within. The book-walled maze

reveals its pleasures slowly, but repays
the debt of time in thousandfold delight—
through passages to many worlds, in ways

mapped out by words. A sudden blink of light:
It's checkout time—they’re closing for the night.
I'd lost myself within the book-walled maze,
through passages to many worlds and ways.

©2009 Linda Sue Park. All rights reserved.
(Click here to see the original post and comments)

---

These rules are here for your protection
by
Arthur A. Levine

Banging on the windowed door
to J. Carberry Middle School
the sick green tinted glass bending to my fist
I can SEE the Hall monitor
who can surely see me
though she is staring ahead
as blank and stiff as if she were the Queen’s Guard
and not a guard in Queens.

Good for her. She’s protecting the school from me
the kid who left the building
(which no one seemed to mind)
to avoid the shock and awe offensive
being carried out in our lunchroom.
I just wanted two blocks of sun.
I wanted the one close sound
to be my sneakers
squeaking their plan of escape,
to buy yogurt
and eat it with no risk of collateral damage
from the insults and objects thrown.

Oh sure, I say to her, a whisper, a breath; ignore me.
That’s original. You think I WANT
To come back in here? Well.
With my glasses and backpack
my dangerous hoodie
I’m sure I look just like a terrorist threat.
Keep me out here; yes, please.
Keep the student body safe
from sarcasm.

© 2010 Arthur A. Levine. All rights reserved.
(Click here to see the original post and comments)

Yesterday we had poems from Lee Bennett Hopkins and Kurt Cyrus. Tomorrow... Mary Ann Hoberman and Eileen Spinelli.

Please click here for more information about this year's edition of 30 Poets/30 Days, including ways to follow along.

30 Poets/Day 13 - Lee Bennett Hopkins and Kurt Cyrus

For my East Coast (U.S.) friends, I think Lee Bennett Hopkins' poem will strike a particular chord this year. And Kurt Cyrus' poem, well, there's probably no day that it doesn't resonate for someone reading here. And for that, I'm sorry... though not sorry for sharing these two with you today!

SPRING
by
Lee Bennett Hopkins

Roots
sprouts
buds
flowers

always--
always--
cloud-bursting showers

rhymes
April fools
fledglings on wing

no thing
is
newer
or
fresher
than
spring.

From SHARING THE SEASONS (McElderry Books).
©2009 Lee Bennett Hopkins. All rights reserved.
Used by permission of Curtis Brown, Ltd.
(Click here to see the original post and comments)

---

The Big Snore
by
Kurt Cyrus

Mama's wrecking furniture inside her throat tonight.
She drags a table to the left, then scrapes it to the right,
rips it with a chainsaw till it's just a pile of chips,
grinds it down to sawdust, and--

poofs it out her lips.

© 2010 Kurt Cyrus. All rights reserved.
(Click here to see the original post and comments)

Yesterday brought us poems by Nikki Grimes and Kathi Appelt. Tomorrow... Linda Sue Park and Arthur A. Levine.

Please click here for more information about this year's edition of 30 Poets/30 Days, including ways to follow along.

30 Poets/Day 12 - Nikki Grimes and Kathi Appelt

Nikki Grimes and Kathi Appelt! Like, on the same day! See, as predicted, I've run out of adjectives and here on day 12, I just become the babbling fanboy I really am without the pretense of objective poetry host. But, I mean, come on now. Nikki Grimes and Kathi Appelt! And on the same day!!!!

All Eyes
by
Nikki Grimes

I stood at the altar
twitching in God's shadow
dizzy with
the scent of lilies,
fear a broom
that swept away
the Easter poem
I'd memorized.
I blinked back
at twenty rows
of eyes, wondered
How does it go, again?
Then, always reckless,
opened my mouth.
But all that came out
half sung,
half whispered was
"Christ the Lord
has risen today.
Haaaaa-leee-luuuu-jah!"

©2009 Nikki Grimes. All rights reserved.
(Click here to see the original post and comments)

---

The Ouija
by
Kathi Appelt

It scared the bejesus out of us
two at thirteen, no former
experience with spirits,
especially ones who had
such a command of spelling.

Words like ramose,
which look simple on the page,
but when you have to spell
it goes right out of your head,
even if you ask for the definition--
“having many branches.”

Our arms were like that,
our fingers thin buds
on the edge of its
round, plastic eye.

One of us asked when
the other would die, and when it
gave an actual date,
she blanched, and ran
to the toilet, knelt
down in front of it
and begged for mercy.

I can’t remember which
of us was sentenced, only
that we loved each other so
it didn’t matter. One death
would have meant two.

© 2010 Kathi Appelt. All rights reserved.
(Click here to see the original post and comments)

Yesterday we had poetry from Avis Harley and Charles Waters. Tomorrow... Lee Bennett Hopkins and Kurt Cyrus.

Please click here for more information about this year's edition of 30 Poets/30 Days, including how to follow along.

30 Poets/Day 11 - Avis Harley and Charles Waters

Both Avis Harley and Charles Waters were poets who were new to me in the year that they appeared in 30 Poets/30 Days... and I'm so happy I got to make their poetic acquaintance (and hang out with Charles in person, no less!). The field of children's poetry is so full of wonderful people doing wonderful work. I'm endlessly inspired... and hope you are, too!

Perfect Pitch
by
Avis Harley

When you
Ache to make some music
Though you’re feeling all forlorn; you don’t
Even own a piano or
Recorder or a horn…why not

Measure out some water to eight glasses in a row
Until you hear a Do-Re-Mi, and a Fa-
So-La-Ti-Do. Then you take a tiny teaspoon—
It’s to tap a tinkly tune—and you practise for a
Concert you’ll perform at

Sunday noon. When your
Upbeat music’s over, don’t discard
It down the sink. Look around for
Thirsty flowers and then pitch
Each one a drink.

©2009 Avis Harley. All rights reserved.
(Click here to see the original post and comments)

---

I LOVE BEING ME
by
Charles Waters

I love being me
With zits in many places,
Tripping over everyone,
Trying to eat with braces.

I love being me
With my frizzy auburn hair,
Day-Glo polka-dot wardrobe
That I carry off with flair.

I love being me
With thick ebony glasses,
Saying hello to flowers,
Attending science classes.

I love being me,
How do you feel about you?
Look yourself in the mirror,
Check out that beautiful view.

© 2010 Charles Waters. All rights reserved.
 (Click here to see the original post and comments)

It's Poetry Friday today, too, so for even more poetry joy, head on out to this week's collection of links, kindly collated by Michelle!

Yesterday we had poetry from Bruce Lansky and Carmen T. Bernier-Grand. Tomorrow... Nikki Grimes and Kathi Appelt!

Please click here for more information on this year's edition of 30 Poets/30 Days, including how to follow along.

30 Poets/Day 10 - Bruce Lansky and Carmen T. Bernier-Grand

One third of the way through the month already? I wish April would last forever! It won't, though, but at least it lasts long enough for me to share poetry from Bruce Lansky and Carmen T. Bernier-Grand - one going for the funny and one non-fiction biography (once again showing the range of poetry!).

Rules for Spot
by
Bruce Lansky

Don't run after cars
when they drive down our street.
Don't leave doggy paw marks
on fresh-poured concrete.

Don't bark at the mail man;
the poor man will pout.
Don't bite bible salesmen;
they might cuss you out.

Don't drink from the toilet,
your breath won't smell great.
And mom won't be thrilled when
you eat off her plate.

Don't whine late at night
so I'll open the door.
If I'm sleeping, don't wake me;
Just "go" on the floor.

I wrote down these rules,
which I hoped would be followed.
Spot thought it was homework.
So, he chewed it and swallowed.

©2009 Bruce Lansky. All rights reserved.
(Click here to see the original post and comments)

---

The following poem comes from Alicia Alonso: Prima Ballerina Assoluta, a biography due out in 2011, written by Carmen Bernier-Grand and being illustrated by Raúl Colón. Cuban ballerina Alicia Alonso is blindfolded in the poem because she had just surgery for detached retinas. At that moment, doctors thought she wouldn’t be able to dance again. But she danced until she was seventy-five.

Dancing Fingers
by
Carmen T. Bernier-Grand

Blindfolded Alicia listens to the music of Giselle.
Her fingers are her feet, the bed sheet the stage.
“I see the theater curtain open. I absolutely see it.”
            Giselle is in love with another peasant, Loys.
Alicia’s fingers jump high—Giselle’s feet.
            Giselle learns that Loys is Prince Albrecht in disguise.
            As a peasant she cannot marry him. She becomes insane.
Alicia’s fingers move stiffly, horribly distorted.
            The earth shakes the day Giselle dies.
            That evening she becomes a Willi,
            a female spirit whose love is unfulfilled.
Alicia’s fingers jump high, but land silently as spirit feet.
            In the cold dawn the Willis rise from their graves
            to force Albrecht to dance until he dies of exhaustion.
Alicia’s fingers float softly.
            She doesn’t let the Willis touch him.
            Giselle’s devotion saves Albrecht from Death.
The golden damask curtain closes.
The theater almost falls with applause.
Alicia’s fingers take a bow.

© Carmen T. Bernier-Grand. All rights reserved.
(Click here to see the original post and comments)

Yesterday featured poetry from Joyce Sidman and Alan Katz. Tomorrow... Avis Harley and Charles Waters.

Please click here for more information on this year's 30 Poets/30 Days, including how to follow along.