Poets in the House

Yesterday, JJ(6) surprised me.

"I know what I want to do when I grow up," he said, big, shy smile on his face.

"Oh?"

"I want to be a poem-maker."

"Oh, I like that! They're called poets," said I.

"I know. JJ, Poet," he said, as though dictating a sign for his door. "It's because I keep having ideas for poems in my mind."

I immediately offered to help him write his poems whenever he has an idea. He didn't take me up on it right away, but today he came to me.

"I have an idea for a poem!"

"Go get me a pencil and paper, then, and come tell me your poem."

I folded the paper in half, and sat poised for dictation. He dictated it to me word by word, slowly.

"When I was riding my bicycle,
I saw a snowflake float to the ground.
And when it hit the ground,
It kind of exploded into little pieces."

I read it back to him. "Is there anything you would like to change? I think maybe you could take out the "kind of" in the last line." I read it to him without the "kind of," and he agreed with me. So I rewrote it. His first poem:

Snowflake

When I was riding my bicycle,

I saw a snowflake float to the ground.

And when it hit the ground,

It exploded into little pieces.

He was inordinately proud of it. He made a little book by adding another paper for a cover and stapling the pages together. Then he put the book on the shelf with our poetry books for poetry teatime. Later I saw him take it out to read to MM(4). 

Then he went outside to play with his brothers. When they came in, JJ and MM both had ideas for poems. I had to write two poems down into JJ's book. MM took some time to make a book like JJ's, and then he dictated his poem to me. It bears some resemblance to his brother's first poem.

When I was outside on my scooter,

I saw the branch of a spruce tree.

Yellow.

He took his booklet to bed with him. At some point I noticed JJ was out of bed, had read MM's poem, and was suggesting changes. "You should write 'green' instead of 'yellow,'" I heard him whisper.

"Put your poems away," I said. "You can work on them again tomorrow."

Poets still have to sleep, right?

Wednesday With Words: Poetry of Sound and Feeling

I was reading Edgar Allan Poe's poem "The Bells" to the boys at teatime today and it made me think of the different reasons we love different poems. We enjoy poetry very simply here --no analysis or picking apart, just reading and enjoyment. I'm sure we'll engage in some analysis later on, perhaps in high school, but for now we're laying a foundation of pure pleasure in the words, the sounds, the meanings, the feelings. "The Bells" is one of those poems where the sound of the words sweeps you along and evokes emotion, from the cheerful tinkling of the silver sledge bells at the beginning of the poem to the desperate, frenzied tolling of the iron bells at the end. This kind of poem almost reads itself... it pulls expression from you as you read it.

And that brings me to one of my favourite poems of this kind: "Tarantella" by Hilaire Belloc. It's not quite as heavy as Poe's "Bells," despite the "feet of the dead" and "Doom" at the end.

Tarantella

Do you remember an Inn,
Miranda?
Do you remember an Inn?
And the tedding and the spreading
Of the straw for a bedding,
And the fleas that tease in the High Pyrenees,
And the wine that tasted of the tar,
And the cheers and the jeers of the young muleteers
(Under the dark of the vine verandah)?
Do you remember an Inn,
Miranda?
Do you remember an Inn?
And the cheers and the jeers of the young muleteers
Who hadn't got a penny,
And who weren't paying any,
And the hammer at the doors and the Din?
And the Hip! Hop! Hap!
Of the clap
Of the hands to the twirl and the swirl
Of the girl gone chancing,
Glancing,
Dancing,
Backing and advancing,
Snapping of the clapper to the spin
Out and in--
And the Ting, Tong, Tang of the Guitar!
Do you remember an Inn,
Miranda?
Do you remember an Inn?

Never more,
Miranda,
Never more.
Only the high peaks hoar:
And Aragon a torrent at the door.
No sound
In the walls of the Halls where falls
The tread
Of the feet of the dead to the ground.
No sound:
Only the boom
Of the far Waterfall like Doom.

Did you read it aloud? Could you feel the din and whirl of the dance, and then the abrupt slowdown as you understood the depth of the silence and desolation of the Inn now?

Having children and reading poetry aloud to them has increased my enjoyment so much. I would never have glanced at this one twice back in the days when I only read poetry silently to myself. Some poems are meant to be read aloud, and you only understand their appeal when you do.

Do you have any examples of poems that are best read aloud? I'd love to hear them!

Cat Up a Tree: A Book for Poetry Teatime

I was reading poems from Cat Up a Tree for the zillionth time yesterday at teatime, and I realized I have never shared this favourite with you. I picked it up on a whim at a local used bookstore about two years ago. Since then, we have pulled it out regularly (at least once a week!). The boys all have their favourite poems that they choose every time. And I have not gotten tired of this book at all even though we have read it so often, which in my opinion is one sign of a good children's book.

Cat Up a Tree tells a story in poems. It's a simple story, really. A cat climbs a tree in chase of a robin. A little girl sees and is concerned for the cat. A number of people get involved in trying to get the cat down from the tree. In the end the cat comes down by himself.

That's all there is to the story, but that's not all there is to the book. Anne Isaacs' poems tell the story from the perspective of the cat, the people involved, the tree, and passersby, among others. A number of different styles of poetry are used, providing variety and interest. Best of all, the poetry and vocabulary are not dumbed down because they are for children. For example, in "Night Rising," the cat speaks to the moon from the branches of the tree:

Ancient alchemist, wake! Arise:
Flood each echoing well with beams;
Scatter coins across the sky;
Pour down your cold, transmuting fire.

I know my children don't understand everything about the poems, but they love them just the same. They know when they're not being talked down to.

JJ(4)'s favourite poem is "Box-Car Racer," a fun poem full of sound effects:

At the top of High
Street:
I buckle my helmet, spit out my gum
Check the brakesropesteeringwheelaxletires
with one foot holding the box-
car
   over the
              edge...

SA(6) loves "Out on a Limb," a poem full of drama as five people climb the tree after the cat. His favourite part is the ending:

While they debated the matter,
The cat crept, unseen and alone,
Then lightly descended the branches
To follow a path of his own.

Stephen Mackey's illustrations add to the humour of this poem, and work well together with the poetry throughout the book.

We love Cat Up a Tree. Try checking it out of your library. I'd love to hear how your children like it.

PS. I am not an Amazon affiliate, and just included the link for your information. If you're buying from Amazon, I'd encourage you to support your favourite blogger who is an affiliate (Why not?). 

Wednesday with Words: Honey for a Child's Heart

"Children may learn to appreciate poetry more than adults do because they are free to let it be what it is and not demand more of it."

-Gladys Hunt, p. 63, Honey for a Child's Heart

Wednesday with Words: The Robin

I've been thinking since last week that somewhere in my house I have a book of poetry by Emily Dickinson. The day after reading Emily at one of our poetry teatimes, I found SA (5) hunting through our children's poetry anthology for the "one by Emily" ("A bird came down the walk," of course.) So today I buckled down and searched until I found it: Collected Poems of Emily Dickinson. I think he will be pleased when I pull it out for tomorrow's teatime.

Since March has begun, and I've just recently begun seeing more robins (though none at my house yet, sadly), this poem seems suitable for today.

XLIV

THE ROBIN

The Robin is the One
That interrupt the Morn
With hurried—few—express Reports
When March is scarcely on—

The Robin is the One
That overflow the Noon
With her cherubic quantity—
An April but begun—

The Robin is the One
That speechless from her Nest
Submit that Home—and Certainty
And Sanctity, are best


Sharing with Wednesdays with Words...click through to see what other people are reading!

This post has been edited to remove my thoughts on the poem...I thought again and didn't want to spoil it for you all.

February 2014 Favourite Read-Aloud Roundup

These days, I often do my library book-browsing online, place holds on what looks interesting, and pick the books up at my local library in the middle of my busy errand day. It is very convenient, and it allows me to choose books from across the entire provincial library system.

I found Keep Looking! almost by chance. I was looking for some easy readers by Millicent Selsam that I had seen mentioned in the forums at Ambleside Online. My library system did not have them, but I placed a hold on a couple of books by the same author, just to see what they were like.
This is a sweet, gentle book. It begins with an empty house and yard, but when you keep looking, you find all kinds of little animals. If your little ones like nature study in the winter, they will connect to this book. The watercolour illustrations by Normand Chartier are incredibly beautiful. I found that JJ (3) and MM (1) especially loved this.

I stumbled across Emily while I was browsing through books illustrated by Barbara Cooney. It is a sweet story of a child meeting the reclusive poet Emily Dickinson. My little boys love her poem "A Bird came down the Walk". I read this book at our Poetry Teatime this week, and they enjoyed it very much. This is the first time I've introduced them to the person behind one of the poems they enjoy so much. I hope there are more books like this out there, because this was a success! I could see that SA (5) was especially taken with the thought that someone writes the poetry that we read.

The Story of Little Babaji is a classic story that somehow I had never come across before finding it on the Ambleside Online Year 0 Booklist. 3-year-old JJ especially enjoyed it, and asked me to read it many times. He is also requesting The Little Red Hen constantly these days.

If you are looking for a good collection of nursery rhymes, Lavender's Blue is an excellent choice. The only thing I'm realizing is that while I love the well-drawn illustrations by Harold Jones, they do not appeal as much to my children. They would just as soon choose the collection illustrated by Rosemary Wells (which I personally find somewhat grotesque...sshhh, don't tell anyone!). Their taste clearly runs to simple and colourful rather than delicate and detailed. Still, I'm glad I chose this collection to buy, since it seems to have all the nursery rhymes I have ever heard and then some. We have been using it regularly at our Poetry Teatimes.




I will be linking up with Read-Aloud Thursday at Hope is the Word, and also Book Sharing Monday (next Monday) at Life on a Canadian Island.

Wednesday with Words: George Herbert

Today is our 9th wedding anniversary, and I didn't remember it at all until just now (9:15 PM). (Don't worry, we are still happily married, despite the oversight!) I opened my favourite poetry anthology at random, and there was George Herbert's "The Call," which was sung at our wedding. So today for Wednesday with Words, I'd like to share that poem with you.

The Call

Come, my Way, my Truth, my Life:

Such a Way, as gives us breath: 

Such a Truth as ends all strife:

Such a Life, as killeth death.

Come, my Light, my Feast, my Strength:

Such a Light, as shows a feast:

Such a Feast, as mends in length:

Such a Strength, as makes his guest.

Come, my Joy, my Love, my Heart:

Such a Joy, as none can move:

Such a Love, as none can part: 

Such a Heart, as joyes in love.

If you'd like to hear it sung, here is a beautiful version of the Vaughan Williams arrangement.

A Book for Poetry Teatime

As we continue to enjoy our "Poetry Teatime" daily, I thought I'd share one of our favourite books that we've used recently.



Poetry for Young People: Robert Frost

My children are still a bit young for Robert Frost (ages five and under), and yet I don't think he is a bad choice for when you decide to step out and explore beyond Mother Goose and Robert Louis Stevenson's Child's Garden of Verses. There are many connection points for children, as Frost mentions cows, apple orchards, and many other country themes. It's true that they may not grasp the full meaning of the poems, but it may be that even I do not. I think that the best poetry is poetry that grows with you. A child may hear "The Road Not Taken" and picture in his mind his last nature walk in the woods, where there was a fork in the path. I, with a fuller life experience, may muse about the choices I've made in my life and the difference they've made. Someone with different life experiences than mine might experience this poem in a much more profound way than I do. I think it would be a mistake to keep poetry from children just because there is very little possibility they will fully understand and appreciate it. They enjoy it in their own way, and it is enough for now.

This particular collection is edited by Gary D. Schmidt and illustrated by Henri Sorensen. The paintings are beautiful. I know Ambleside Online recommends this series with reservations because of the illustrations (I think the reasoning is that it is better to be drawing vivid pictures in your imagination as you hear the poetry.). But for my pre-reading children, the illustrations allow them to choose which poems they would like to hear, and come back to their favourites. I have a couple of issues with the editing, though. First, they did not include "Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening" which, along with "The Road Not Taken," is probably one of the first poems that come to anyone's mind on hearing Robert Frost's name. I also found the inclusion of "Out, Out --" a bit of an odd choice for a book intended for young people (A child is cutting wood and accidentally cuts off his hand, then later dies because of his injury.). Finally, each poem has an explanatory note of two or three sentences. I'm not sure how necessary or desirable this is...I think I'd prefer to allow the reader to take what they can from the poem as it is. However, these notes are short and written in fine print following the poems, so they are not as obtrusive as they might have been.

Overall, we have enjoyed this collection very much. The boys have even discovered some favourites that they like to hear over and over again. (SA likes "Mending Wall," JJ likes "The Cow in Apple Time.") This was a library book, but I have added it to my "to buy" list. I look forward to checking out other poets in this series for our poetry teatimes.

I'll be linking up this post with Read Aloud Thursday at Hope is the Word blog.

Call Back

I stumbled across this poem this week, and I wanted to save it. If I had more time, I'd copy it beautifully into my journal. Since I don't, I'll just cut and paste it here. It reminds me of the "great cloud of witnesses" in Hebrews 12.

If you have gone a little way ahead of me, call back­;
'Twill cheer my heart and help my feet along the stony track;
And if, perchance, Faith's light is dim, because the oil is low,
Your call will guide my lagging course as wearily I go.

Call back, and tell me that He went with you into the storm;
Call back, and say He kept you when the forest's roots were torn;
That when the heavens thundered and the earthquake shook the hill,
He bore you up and held you where the very air was still.

O friend, call back and tell me, for I cannot see your face;
They say it glows with triumph, and your feet bound in the race;
But there are mists between us, and my spirit eyes are dim,
And I cannot see the glory, though I long for word of Him.

But if you'll say He heard you when your prayer was but a cry,
And if you'll say He saw you through the night's sin-darkened sky,­
If you have gone a little way ahead, O friend, call back,­
'Twill cheer my heart and help my feet along the stony track.

- anonymous, December 19 Streams In The Desert devotional