My Book is Falling Apart . . .

Hug O'War

- Shel Silverstein

I will not play at tug o' war.
I'd rather play at hug o' war,
Where everyone hugs
Instead of tugs,
Where everyone giggles
And rolls on the rug,
Where everyone kisses,
And everyone grins,
And everyone cuddles,
And everyone wins.


 from: Where the Sidewalk Ends, Copyright 1974.

POETRY: Read More, Blog More #5

Last month Lu posted some interesting 'just in case you need one' prompts for this challenge but I had already written my post for the month.

One of them was actually a subject close to my heart, and I really wanted to give it a try, so I'm going to tackle it this month:

How do you think we can teach kids to love poetry?

First, A little disclosure. I refer to myself, euphemistically, as an "underemployed teacher" (English Language Arts, Special Education). My background also includes many years of working as a Literacy Volunteer. I currently tutor at risk kids in local school districts as an off shoot of No Child Left Behind. 

It is a challenge that often leaves me feeling elated and defeated simultaneously. As you might imagine, kids who are struggling generally don't want to read at all - forget poetry! But I have found that what matters is 1). The poems you choose and 2). your attitude toward their attempts.

Oh. And don't think they won't know if YOU don't like poetry.

Regardless of age, I like to start with Shel Silverstein. Who can't relate to his poetry? And relating is the name of the game.

My copy of Where the Sidewalk Ends is worn and a bit tattered around the edges. I've lost count of the number of young hands that have held that book; the number of intense and struggling students who have found laughter - despite themselves. If a book could have emotions, this one would be happy and proud to have helped so many striving minds.

Here is one of my favorites (though that changes often):

If the World Was Crazy  

by Shel Silverstein

If the world was crazy, you know what I'd eat?
A big slice of soup and a whole quart of meat,
A lemonade sandwich, and then I might try
Some roasted ice cream or a bicycle pie,
A nice notebook salad, an underwear roast,
An omelet of hats and some crisp cardboard toast,
A thick malted milk made from pencils and daisies,
And that's what I'd eat if the world was crazy. 

If the world was crazy, you know what I'd wear?
A chocolate suit and a tie of eclair,
Some marshmallow earmuffs, some licorice shoes,
And I'd read a paper of peppermint news.
I'd call the boys "Suzy" and I'd call the girls "Harry,"
I'd talk through my ears, and I always would carry
A paper umbrella for when it grew hazy
To keep in the rain, if the world was crazy. 

If the world was crazy, you know what I'd do?
I'd walk on the ocean and swim in my shoe,
I'd fly through the ground and I'd skip through the air,
I'd run down the bathtub and bathe on the stair.
When I met somebody I'd say "G'bye, Joe,"
And when I was leaving--then I'd say "Hello."
And the greatest of men would be silly and lazy
So I would be king...if the world was crazy. 

from: Where the Sidewalk Ends. Copyright 1974. 

HAPPY NUMBER FIVE, SWEETIE!

Don The Dragon's Birthday

- Shel Silverstein

Here he comes across the lake.
He’s comin’ for

his birthday cake.
Sing “Happy Birthday,

Dragon Don,”
And watch him blow

the candles … on.

THE GIVING TREE, Or . . .

Via. Better Book Titles.

No HINTS Intended

(You know who you are)

HONEST

(You know the number)

Sort Of

*   *   *

Messy Room

by Shel Silverstein

Whosever room this is should be ashamed!
His underwear is hanging on the lamp.
His raincoat is there in the overstuffed chair,
And the chair is becoming quite mucky and damp.
His workbook is wedged in the window,
His sweater's been thrown on the floor.
His scarf and one ski are beneath the TV,
And his pants have been carelessly hung on the door.
His books are all jammed in the closet,
His vest has been left in the hall.
A lizard named Ed is asleep in his bed,
And his smelly old sock has been stuck to the wall.
Whosever room this is should be ashamed!
Donald or Robert or Willie or--
Huh? You say it's mine? Oh, dear,
I knew it looked familiar!

TEMPUS FUGIT

Forgotten Language
- Shel Silverstein

Once I spoke the language of the flowers,
Once I understood each word the caterpillar said,
Once I smiled in secret at the gossip of the starlings,
And shared a conversation with the housefly
in my bed.
Once I heard and answered all the questions
of the crickets,
And joined the crying of each falling dying
flake of snow,
Once I spoke the language of the flowers. . . .
How did it go?
How did it go?

A WONDERFUL WALK, but the view has changed

Where the Sidewalk Ends
- Shel Silverstein

There is a place where the sidewalk ends
And before the street begins,
And there the grass grows soft and white,
And there the sun burns crimson bright,
And there the moon-bird rests from his flight
To cool in the peppermint wind.

Let us leave this place where the smoke blows black
And the dark street winds and bends.
Past the pits where the asphalt flowers grow
We shall walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And watch where the chalk-white arrows go
To the place where the sidewalk ends.

Yes we'll walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And we'll go where the chalk-white arrows go,
For the children, they mark, and the children, they know
The place where the sidewalk ends.

A day in the life

Magic

Sandra's seen a leprechaun,
Eddie touched a troll,
Laurie danced with witches once,
Charlie found some goblin's gold.
Donald heard a mermaid sing,
Susie spied an elf,

But all the magic I have known
I've had to make myself.

- Shel Silverstein, Where the Sidewalk Ends (1974).