When the cane gave way to cane sugar

Poetry Month, Day 30. When it comes to general poetry collections for children, I can't help but wonder when the sanitization of children's poetry began in earnest. Sure, we all expect to be shocked by the violence of Hoffman's Struwwelpeter (1845)

from "Story of Little Suck-a-Thumb"

and stunned by the colonial mindset and racism that constitute the weeds in Stevenson's otherwise fragrant, A Child's Garden of Verses (1885). The nursery rhyme collection, Lavender's Blue, was published in the 1950s and is pretty tame, all things considered. Sure there's the odd "don't walk on thin ice" or "don't play in the cinders" verse, but, by and large, the cautionary tone of the verses is minimal.

As I was diving through edited collections of children's poetry to create this 30 day, 30 title feast, I was intrigued by just how much stamina verses involving corporal punishment had with editors. While you'd be hard pressed to find a recent collection of poetry that references corporal punishment or that reprints some of the more gruesome cautionary verses of old (such poems are increasingly relegated to academic tomes for the study of children's literature), just 20 years ago such poems were commonplace in edited editions.

The 1963 Oxford Book of Poetry for Children (Edward Blishen, editor; Brian Wildsmith illustrator) that was reissued in paperback format as late as 1996, includes a short chapter of cautionary verses including Hilaire Belloc's "Matilda (Who told Lies, and was Burned to Death)" and this gem from Lewis Carroll:

Speak roughly to your little boy,
And beat him when he sneezes;
He only does it to annoy,
Because he knows it teases.
Wow! Wow! Wow!

I speak severely to my boy,
I beat him when he sneezes;
For he can thoroughly enjoy
The pepper when he pleases!
Wow! Wow! Wow!

Similarly, The Random House Book of Poetry for Children (selected by Jack Prelutsky; illustrated by Arnold Lobel) first published in 1983 includes Hoffmann's "The Story of Augustus Who Would Not Have Any Soup" and this tribute to spanking from Charles Henry Ross:

That's Jack;
Lay a stick on his back!
What's he done? I cannot say.
We'll find out tomorrow,
And beat him today.

The Kingfisher Book of Children's Poetry, selected by Michael Rosen (1985) includes Hoffmann's "Story of Little Suck-a-Thumb," albeit with a slightly less sinsiter illustration than the original. It also includes this more contemporary poem by Britain's Allan Ahlberg (of Peepo and Jolly Postman fame), which I find intriguing and refreshing, for there is a perverse pleasure in wondering about the unknown, isn't there?

The Cane

The teacher
had some thin springy sticks
for making kites.

Reminds me
of the old days, he said;
and swished one.

The children
near his desk laughed nervously,
and pushed closer.

A cheeky girl
held out her cheeky hand.
Go on, Sir!

said her friends.
Give her the stick, she’s always
playing up!

The teacher
paused, then did as he was told.
Just a tap.

Oh, Sir!
We’re going to tell on you,
the children said.

Other children
left their seats and crowded round
the teacher’s desk.

Other hands
went out. Making kites was soon
forgotten.

My turn next!
He’s had one go already!
That’s not fair!

Soon the teacher,
to save himself from the crush,
called a halt.

(It was
either that or use the cane
for real.)

Reluctantly,
the children did as they were told
and sat down.

If you behave
yourselves, the teacher said,
I’ll cane you later.

--Allan Ahlberg

(Note: when quoting poems online, always include a full citation for the collection from which the poem originated. If the poem is not in the public domain (i.e. is still in copyright) abide by the principle of Fair Dealing in your use of the work.)

__________________

Well, there you have it: 30 days of poetry collections all wrapped up. Ta-da! If any of you would like me to post all the collections I mentioned in a single post, let me know in the comments and I will put it up early in May. It never hurts to have a wallet-sized list to take to the library or to the book store.

As comfortable as a cotton dress

Poetry month, Day 29: I love Eleanor Farjeon's poetry and I bet you will too--that is if a little cat hasn't already whispered its worth into your ear.

A Morning Song
For the First Day of Spring

Morning has broken
like the first morning,
Blackbird has spoken
   Like the first bird.
Praise for the singing!
Praise for the morning!
Praise for them, springing
   From the first Word.

Sweet the rain's new fall
Sunlit from heaven,
Like the first dewfall
   In the first hour.
Praise for the sweetness
Of the wet garden,
Sprung in completeness
   From the first shower.

Mine is the sunlight!
Mine is the morning
Born of the one light
   Eden saw play.
Praise with elation,
Praise every morning
Spring's re-creation
   Of the First Day!


Pencil and Paint
Winter has a pencil
For pictures clear and neat,
She traces the black tree-tops
Upon a snowy sheet.
But autumn has a palette
And a painting brush instead,
And daubs the leaves for pleasure
With yellow, brown, and red.


Cotton
My wedding-gown's cotton,
My wedding-gown's cheap,
It's crisper than sea foam
And whiter than sheep,
Printed with daisies
In yellow and green,
A prettier wedding-gown
Never was seen!
Light-heart and light-foot
I'll walk into church
As straight and as slim
As a silvery birch,
And after my wedding
I never will lay
Like ladies my wedding-gown
Lightly away.

I'll wash it in soapsuds
As fresh as when new,
And rinse it in rainwater
Softer than dew,
And peg it on Saturdays
High on the line,
And wear it on Sundays
Full of sunshine.
My wedding-gown's cotton,
It cost me a crown,
Was ever girl wed in
A commoner gown?--
As birds on the branches,
As flowers on the green,
The commonest wedding-gown
Ever was seen!

--Eleanor Farjeon

from Something I Remember: Selected Poems for Young Children by Eleanor Farjeon. Edited byAnne Harvey. Blackie, 1987.

How can you be a poet when your last name rhymes with historian?

Poetry Month; Day 28: Douglas Florian is one of several poet/artist combinations I've featured this month. To see his artwork, you can go to his artist's website; alternatively, you can check out his poetry books, Beast Feast and Dinothesaurus, the next time you're at the library. The poem I'm featuring today comes from a different collection altogether:

Commas
Do commas have mommas
Who teach them to pause,
Who comfort and calm them,
And clean their sharp claws?
Who tell them short stories
Of uncommon commas
And send them to bed
In their comma pajamas?

--Douglas Florian

from Bing Bang Boing, poems and drawings by Douglas Florian. Harcourt, 1994.

(Note: when quoting poems online, always include a full citation for the collection from which the poem originated. If the poem is not in the public domain (i.e. is still in copyright) abide by the principle of Fair Dealing in your use of the work.)

I love it when the words 'big' and 'poetry' appear together in a title

Poetry Month: Day 27: When this month ends, I do sincerely hope that none of you come back asking for a recommendation for a general purpose poetry anthology, 'cause I think I've now sent a stack of 'em your way. Today's entry was compiled by Bill Martin Jr before his death in 2004 and was brought to fruition by his collaborator, Michael Sampson.

To My Valentine
If apples were pears,
And peaches were plums,
And the rose had a different name,
If tigers were bears,
And fingers were thumbs,
I'd love you just the same!

--Anonymous


April Rain Song
Let the rain kiss you.
Let the rain beat upon your head with silver liquid drops,
Let the rain sing you a lullaby.

The rain makes still pools on the sidewalk.
The rain makes running pools in the gutter.
The rain plays a little sleep-song on our roof at night--

And I love the rain.

--Langston Hughes



from The Bill Martin Jr. Big Book of Poetry, edited by Bill Martin Jr. with Michael Sampson. Foreword by Eric Carle; Afterword by Steven Kellogg. Illustrated by Ashley Bryan, Lois Ehlert, Steven Kellogg, Chris Raschka, Dan Yaccarino, Nancy Tafuri, and Derek Anderson. Simon and Schuster Books for Young Readers, 2008.

(Note: when quoting poems online, always include a full citation for the collection from which the poem originated. If the poem is not in the public domain (i.e. is still in copyright) abide by the principle of Fair Dealing in your use of the work.)

What rhymes with Shel? Swell.

Poetry Month, Day 26: One mustn't ignore Shel Silverstein, must one? Not if one likes humour and whimsy.

Hat
Teddy said is was a hat,
So I put it on.
Now Dad is saying,
"Where the heck's
the toilet plunger gone?

Recipe for a Hippopotamus Sandwich
A hippo sandwich is easy to make.
All you do is simply take
One slice of bread,
One slice of cake,
Some mayonnaise,
One onion ring,
One hippopotamus,
One piece of string,
A dash of pepper--
That out to do it,
And now comes the problem . . .
Biting into it!

--Shel Silverstein

from Where the Sidewalk Ends, poems and drawings by Shel Silverstein. Evil Eye Music, 1974.

(Note: when quoting poems online, always include a full citation for the collection from which the poem originated. If the poem is not in the public domain (i.e. is still in copyright) abide by the principle of Fair Dealing in your use of the work.)

He's a funny, lefty, enviro, poet-guy

Poetry month, Day 25: British poet, Benjamin Zephaniah, is all that and a whole lot more besides.

Solidarity
An army of militant greens
In bio-degradable genes
Shout 'Give peas a chance
And lettuce all dance
In unity wid butter beans.'


Who's Who
I used to think nurses
Were women,
I used to think police
Were men,
I used to think poets
Were boring,
Until I became one of them.

--Benjamin Zephaniah


from Talking Turkeys by Benjamin Zephaniah. Puffin Books, 1994.

(Note: when quoting poems online, always include a full citation for the collection from which the poem originated. If the poem is not in the public domain (i.e. is still in copyright) abide by the principle of Fair Dealing in your use of the work.)

Poetry Month, Day 24: Personal ... Political

I love this collection. It carries in its pages the beauty of fig trees and lemons, as well as the indigestible truth of olive pits.

Red Brocade
The Arabs used to say
When a stranger appears at your door,
feed him for three days
before asking who he is,
where he's come from,
where he's headed.
That way, he'll have strength
enough to answer.
Or, by then you'll be
such good friends
you don't care.

Let's go back to that.
Rice? Pine nuts?
Here, take the red brocade pillow.
My child will serve water
to your horse.

No, I was not busy when you came!
I was not preparing to be busy.
That's the armor everyone put on
to pretend they had a purpose
in the world.

I refuse to be claimed.
Your plate is waiting.
We will snip fresh mint
into your tea.


All Things Not Considered
You cannot stitch the breath
back into this boy.

A brother and sister were playing with toys
when their room exploded.

In what language
is this holy?

The Jewish boys in the cave
were skipping school, having an adventure.

Asel Asleh, Palestinian, age 17, believed in the field
beyond right and wrong where people come together

to talk. He kneeled to help someone else
stand up before he was shot.

If this is holy,
could we have some new religions please?

Mohammed al-Durra huddled against his father
in the street, terrified. The whole world saw him die.

An Arab father on crutches burying his 4 month girl weeps,
"I spit in the face of this ugly world."

*

Most of us would take our children over land.
We would walk the fields forever homeless
with our children,
huddle under cliffs, eat crumbs and berries,
to keep our children.
This is what we say from a distance
because we can say whatever we want.

*

No one was right.
Everyone was wrong.
What if they'd get together
and say that?
At a certain point
the flawed narrator wins.

People made mistakes for decades.
Everyone hurts in similar ways
at different times.
Some picked up guns because guns were given.

If they were holy it was okay to use guns.
Some picked up stones because they had them.
They had millions of them.
They might have picked up turnip roots
or olive pits.
Picking up things to throw and shoot:
at the same time people were studying history,
going to school.

*

The curl of a baby's graceful ear.

The calm of a bucket
waiting for water.

Orchards of the old Arab men
who knew each tree.

Jewish and Arab women
standing silently together.

Generations of black.

Are people the only holy land?

--Naomi Shihab Nye


from 19 Varieties of Gazelle: Poems of the Middle East by Naomi Shihab Nye. Greenwillow, 2002.

(Note: when quoting poems online, always include a full citation for the collection from which the poem originated. If the poem is not in the public domain (i.e. is still in copyright) abide by the principle of Fair Dealing in your use of the work.)

Who doesn't like popcorn?

Poetry month, Day 23: Today's collection day dates back to 1988 and is dedicated to the memory of the great Arnold Lobel.

from
Knitted Things
There was a witch who knitted things:
Elephants and playground swings.
She knitted rain,
She knitted night,
But nothing really came out right.
The elephants had just one tusk
And night looked more
Like dawn or dusk.

--Karla Kuskin

Mice
I think mice
Are rather nice.
   Their tails are long,
   Their faces small,
   They haven't any
   chins at all.
   Their ears are pink,
   Their teeth are white,
   They run about
   The house at night.
   They nibble things
   They shouldn't touch
   And no one seems
   To like them much.
But I think mice
Are nice.

--Rose Fyleman


from Sing a Song of Popcorn: Every Child's Book of Poems, selected by Beatrice Schenk de Regniers, Eva Moore, Mary Michaels White and Jan Carr. Illustrated by nine Caldecott Medal artisits: Marcia Brown, Leo and Diane Dillon, Richard Egielski, Trina Schart Hyman, Arnold Lobel, Maurice Sendak, Marc Simont and Margot Zemach. Scholastic, 1988.

(Note: when quoting poems online, always include a full citation for the collection from which the poem originated. If the poem is not in the public domain (i.e. is still in copyright) abide by the principle of Fair Dealing in your use of the work.)

On the cusp of adulthood: Poetry Month, Day 22

Paul Janeczko is committed to bringing poetry to children and young adults. I'm going to feature poems from a couple of his earlier, edited collections, poems that speak to a young adult audience. Please make sure you check out some of his more recent work. I'll list a few additional titles at the bottom of this post. You might also be interested in this clever, short biography from his website.

Teresa's Red Adidas
(for T. G.)
I think that I shall never view
Shoes as nice as those on you.
They're red and soft with stripes of white.
One goes left, the other right.
I hope they let you run quick fast;
I also hope they last and last.
Shoes are made for feet like those,
And I just love the ones you chose.

--Paul B. Janeczko


Small, Smaller
I thought that I knew all there was to know
Of being small, until I saw once, black against the snow,
A shrew, trapped in my footprint, jump and fall
And jump again and fall, the hole too deep,
   the walls too tall.

--Russell Hoban

and here is one in the form of a riddle

Stone
Hard bu you can polish it.
Precious, it has eyes. Can wound.
Would dance upon water. Sinks.
Stays put. Crushed, becomes a road.

--Donald Justice

from This Delicious Day: 65 Poems, selected by Paul Janeczko. Orchard Books, 1987.

Sister
Younger than they,
and not the same.
Girl growing amid
a grove of brothers.
They took my dolls
one day into their
forbidden circle
in the woods,
drove sticks
into the cleared dirt,
and burned them at the stake.

--H. R. Coursen

If you are weak of heart or stomach, don't read this next one. If you do and find it disturbing, don't say I didn't warn you.

Boy, Fifteen, Killed by Hummingbird
Bent low over the handlebars,
Arms arced and legs pumping
As his father had taught him
When he was five,
The boy struggled to pedal
Up Camelback Hill,
But he didn't mind
Because he knew that,
Once there, he could relax
And coast the rest of the way home.

He didn't see it hanging there
Dead ahead in the air,
Its tiny wings whirring invisibly,
Until it was too late.
The hummingbird poised iteself
So that when the boy,
Speeding downhill,
Met the bird,
Its greedy bill
Exploded his right eye
Like a ripe cherry tomato
Skewered at a barbeque
And sent the liquid
Streaming down his cheek.

People said the father
Refused to accept the coroner's report
That the bird,
Seeking nectar,
Had pierced the boy's brain,
Abloom with youth,
And lodged there,
Draining it dry.
But a week later,
A neighbor watched the father
In his backyard
Hover over the hollyhocks
And, wielding a long knife,
Sever their heads.

--Linda Linssen

from Preposterous: Poems of Youth, selected by Paul Janeczko. Orchard Books, 1991.


More Janeckzo books:

For a delightful foray into concrete poetry, check out A Poke in the I: A Collection of Concrete Poems, edited by Paul Janeczko and illustrated by Chris Rashka, Candlewick, 2001.

Janeczko and Rashka have two more children's poetry collections that, if I had had them to hand, I would have included as one or more of my days of poetry. They are A Kick in the Head: An Everyday Guide to Poetic Forms (Candlewick, 2005) and A Foot in the Mouth: Poems to Speak, Sing and Shout (Candlewick, 2009).

Do you know an aspiring young poet? Why not pass along Janeczko's Seeing the Blue Between: Advice and Inspiration for Young Poets (Candlewick 2002)?

Two different ways to fly

Poetry Month, Day 21: This seminal work of collected Canadian poetry was first published in 1968, in the golden afterglow of Expo '67. It reads like a who's who of Canadian poetry: A. M. Klein, Milton Acorn, Charles G. D. Roberts, Bliss Carmen, James Reaney, Isabella V. Crawford, P. K. Page, Al Purdy, Achibald Lampman... You get the idea. I'm using the expanded 1984 edition for today's poems.

Balloon

a s
big as
ball as round
as sun . . . I tug
and pull you when
you run and when
wind blows I
say polite
ly
H    
O      
L        
D      
M
    E
      T
        I
          G
            T
              L
                Y.

--Colleen Thibaudeau

I, Icarus
There was a time when I could fly. I swear it.
Perhaps, if I think hard for a moment, I can even tell you the year.
My room was on the ground floor at the rear of the house.
My bed faced a window.
Night after night I lay on my bed and willed myself to fly.
It was hard work I can tell you.
Sometimes I lay perfectly still for an hour before I felt my body rising from the bed.
I rose slowly, slowly until I floated three or four feet above the floor.
Then, with a kind of swimming motion, I propelled myself toward the window.
Outside I rose higher and higher, above the pasture fence,
     above the clothesline, above the dark, haunted trees,
     beyond the pasture.
And, all the time, I heard the music of flutes.
It seemed the wind made this music.
And sometimes there were voices singing.

--Alden Nowlan

from The New Wind Has Wings: Poems from Canada, compiled by Mary Alice Downie and Barbara Robertson; Illustrated by Elizabeth Cleaver, Oxford UP, 1984.

The original edition had the more simple name, The Wind Has Wings: Poems From Canada (1968).

Fredericton's finest

Poetry month: Day 20

There's no way I could showcase a month's worth of poetry collections and not feature Fredericton's own Sheree Fitch. It's not the first time I've mentioned her on this blog and I'm certain it won't be the last. She's among the best poets for children in Canada and beyond. I've had the great pleasure of working with Sheree and her colleague, Anne Hunt, this past year as they conduct research for a collection of Atlantic Canadian poems for children they plan to edit. The spirit of poetry emanates from her. I've taken this poem from a recent collection, but make sure you dig deeper because you will find much gold.

Argentinosaurus
Argentinosaurus
Is a tenor in the chorus
In an opera that is playing on a stage inside his head.
He's the biggest dinosaurus
He's humongous!
He's enormous!
And his voice is such a roarus he could scare awake the dead!
Figaro! Figaroo!
I am not a kangaroo!
Figaree! Figurah!
Sol la ti do re mi fa!

Argentinosaurus
Shakes the cities and the forests
Every time he takes a step and sings a score
He is bowing to the tourists who bring flowers from the florists.
And his dinosaurus chorus is so glorious! Encore!
Figaro! Figaree!
Would you take a look at me!
Figaro! Figara!
Prehistoric opera!

--Sheree Fitch
from If I Had a Million Onions by Sheree Fitch; illustrated by Yayo. Tradewind, 2005.

Psst: If you don't have a copy of the 20th anniversary edition of Fitch's poetic picture book, Sleeping Dragons All Around (Nimbus, 2009), you should.

(Note: when quoting poems online, always include a full citation for the collection from which the poem originated. If the poem is not in the public domain (i.e. is still in copyright) abide by the principle of Fair Dealing in your use of the work.)

Dilly Dilly

Poetry Month, Day 19: I promised myself I wouldn't spend too much time showcasing nursery rhyme collections this month, because if I were to walk down that road, I could easily do a full month's worth without even thinking twice. And yet, I also didn't want to leave nursery rhymes off the list altogether. I don't suppose there's a National Nursery Rhyme Month, is there?

My daughter and I like this 1954 stand-by. It's been reprinted many times since its first publication, and, in 2004, a 50th Anniversary edition was published that is still available in trade paperback. I'll give you the titular song:

Lavender's blue, dilly, dilly,
Lavender's green;
When I am a king, dilly, dilly
You shall be queen.
Call up your men, dilly, dilly,
Set them to work,
Some to the plough, dilly, dilly,
Some to the cart.
Some to make hay, dilly, dilly,
Some to cut corn,
While you and I, dilly, dilly,
Keep ourselves warm.

--Traditonal (English)

(and you can all keep singing the Burl Ives version in your head, just as I do every time I read/sing it to my daughter)



from Lavender's Blue, compiled by Kathleen Lines; illustrated by Harold Jones. Oxford UP, 1954.

A Bleary, Leary Legacy?

Thanks to Edward Lear, there's no shortage of limericks for children. This recent small collection is part tribute to Lear and part homage to the verbal play of Seuss's Fox in Socks. To wit:

Which Witch Was Which?
Two witchy witches in a Wichita ditch,
One witch with a twitch caused the witches to switch,
The spell they were under,
Caused people to wonder,
Which Witchita witch switched was which?

--Lou Brooks


There's even a Twimericks website.

from Twimericks: The Book of Tongue-Twisting Limericks by Lou Brooks. Workman Publishing, 2009.

(Note: when quoting poems online, always include a full citation for the collection from which the poem originated. If the poem is not in the public domain (i.e. is still in copyright) abide by the principle of Fair Dealing in your use of the work.)

Poetry month, Day 17: A Biography in Verse

The remarkable life of George Washington Carver is rendered with intelligence and sensitivity by Marilyn Nelson in the collection I'm featuring today. Take these two samples from early in his life, after he's left home but before he attends the Iowa State College of Agriculture.

Washboard Wizard
Highland Kansas, 1885
All of us take our clothes to Carver.
He's a wizard of the washboard,
a genie of elbow grease and suds.
We'll take you over there next week;
by that time you'll be needing him.
He's a colored boy, a few years older
than we are, real smart. But he stays
in his place. They say
he was offered a scholarship
to the college. I don't know
what's happened, but they say
that's why he's here in town.
Lives alone in a little shack
filled with books
over in Poverty Row.
They say he reads them.
Dried plants, rocks, jars of colors.
A bubbling cauldron of laundry
Pictures of flowers and landscapes.
They say he
painted them. They say
he was turned away when he got here,
because he's a nigger. I don't know about
all that. But he's the best
washwoman in town.

Four a.m. in the Woods
Darkness softens, a thin
tissue of mist between trees.
One by one the day's
uncountable voices come out
like twilight fireflies, like stars.
The perceiving self sits
with his back against rough bark,
casting ten thousand questions into the future.
As shadows take shape, the curtains part
for the length of time it takes to grasp,
and behold, the purpose of his
life dawns on him.

--Marilyn Nelson


from Carver: a life in poems by Marilyn Nelson. Front Street: 2001.

(Note: when quoting poems online, always include a full citation for the collection from which the poem originated. If the poem is not in the public domain (i.e. is still in copyright) abide by the principle of Fair Dealing in your use of the work.)

Poetry Month, Day 16: It's a Real Treat

Mary Ann Hoberman may well be my favourite, living children's poet. Rhyme, assonance, wordplay, wide-ranging subject matter: you name it, she has it all. Here are two small gems but whatever you do, don't stop with these.

My Sister Saw a Dinosaur
My sister saw a dinosaur.
At least she said she saw one.
I said that dinosaurs are dead.
She said she saw one in her head.
A dinosaur inside your head?
"Remarkable!" my mother said.

Brother
I had a little brother
And I brought him to my mother
And I said I want another
Little brother for a change.

But she said don't be a bother
So I took him to my father
And I said this little bother
Of a brother's very strange.

But he said one little brother
Is exactly like another
And every little brother
Misbehaves a bit, he said.

So I took the little bother
From my mother and my father
And I put the little bother
Of a brother back to bed.

--Mary Ann Hoberman


from The Llama Who Had No Pajama: 100 Favorite Poems by Mary Ann Hoberman; illustrated by Betty Fraser. Harcourt, 1998, published in paperback in 2006.

(Note: when quoting poems online, always include a full citation for the collection from which the poem originated. If the poem is not in the public domain (i.e. is still in copyright) abide by the principle of Fair Dealing in your use of the work.)

More Home and Native Poems

Poetry Month, Day 15. Here's a collection of poetry from a variety of fine Canadian poets. The poems aren't particularly Canadian in their subject matter--even if this one does have a down-homey Maritime feel to it:

When Grandpa Gets to Fiddling
When Grandpa lifts his violin
And props it 'neath his chin,
I can hardly hold my horses
For the dancing to begin.

My fingers snap, my knuckles knock,
My toes begin to tap.
My shoulders shrug, my elbows bend,
My hands begin to clap.

And very soon I'm whirling, twirling,
Jumping to the beat.
I hop and bounce, I somersault,
And land back on my feet.

I samba, stomp and jitterbug,
I mambo, jig and spin,
When Grandpa gets to fiddling
And plays his violin.

--Robin Patterson

from Canadian Poems for Canadian Kids, edited by Jen Hamilton; Illustrated by Merrill Fearon. With a foreword by P.K. Page. Subway Books, 2005.

(Note: when quoting poems online, always include a full citation for the collection from which the poem originated. If the poem is not in the public domain (i.e. is still in copyright) abide by the principle of Fair Dealing in your use of the work.)

Poetry Month, Day 14: Baa, Moo, Meow, Arf

Here's a collection for those who feel a kinship with the critters.

A Farmer's Boy
They strolled down the lane together,
The sky was studded with stars--
They reached the gate in silence
And he lifted down the bars--
She neither smiled nor thanked him
Because she knew not how;
For he was just a farmer's boy
And she was a jersey cow.

--Anon

from A Child's Treasury of Animal Verse, compiled by Mark Daniel. Dial Books for Young Readers, 1989.

Whee! It's Dennis Lee

Poetry month, Day 13: Dennis Lee is not only one of the greats of children's poetry, he's one of the great poets period. Plus, he's Canadian. There a lots of Lee collections to choose from, but I'm going to rock it old school here because my favourite Lee poem is in the book that started it all:

Bouncing Song
Hambone, jawbone, mulligatawney stew,
Pork chop, lamb chop, cold homebrew.
Licorice sticks and popsicles, ice cream pie:
Strawberry, chocolate, vanilla!!!

--Dennis Lee


from Alligator Pie, poems by Dennis Lee; pictures by Frank Newfeld. Key Porter Books, 1974.

(Note: when quoting poems online, always include a full citation for the collection from which the poem originated. If the poem is not in the public domain (i.e. is still in copyright) abide by the principle of Fair Dealing in your use of the work.)

Day 12: The best of a century

Speaking of Jack Prelutsky, he selected all the poems in this collection and he made some very fine choices indeed. Take these three, for example:

Cats
Cats sleep
Anywhere,
Any table,
Any chair,
Top of a piano,
Window-ledge,
In the middle,
On the edge,
Open drawer,
Empty shoe,
Anybody's
Lap will do,
Fitted in a
Cardboard box,
In the cupboard
With your frocks--
Anywhere!
They don't care!
Cats sleep
Anywhere.

--Eleanor Farjeon


Eletelephony
Once there was an elephant,
Who tried to use the telephant--
No! no! I mean an elephone
Who tried to use the telephone--
(Dear me! I am not certain quite
That even now I've got it right.)

Howe'er it was, he got his trunk
Entangled in the telephunk;
The more he tried to get it free,
The louder buzzed the telephee--
(I fear I'd better drop this song
Of elephop and telephong!)

--Laura E. Richards


Sick
I god a liddle code doday;
id isend bery pleasand.
Da docda cape an gabe a shod,
but butha gabe a presend.

I think I'll be in bed a dime,
ad leased dill Bunday borning.
Don't wawg in buddles in da rain--
led dis be a warding!

--Marci Ridlon



from The 20th Century Children's Poetry Treasury, selected by Jack Prelutsky; illustrated by Meilo So. Alfred A. Knopf, 1999.

(Note: when quoting poems online, always include a full citation for the collection from which the poem originated. If the poem is not in the public domain (i.e. is still in copyright) abide by the principle of Fair Dealing in your use of the work.)

__________________________

You may recall a post I put up in February about the top 100 novels for children aged 6-12, a countdown being featured on the School Library Journal Fuse #8 Blog. Well, today they reached number one. Go see for yourself and then work your way back through the list by following the recent post links on the sidebar or by clicking on the links at the end of the post. The write-ups are fascinating and insightful. And the winner? Well let's just say I recently cried my eyes out while reading it with my 5 year old.

A Laureate, no less

America's first Children's Poet Laureate, Jack Prelutsky's verse is wide-ranging and fun. There are 50 or so Prelutsky collections to choose from, but my daughter was extremely fond of this one when she was younger so it still holds a special place in my heart.

Beneath a blue umbrella
a melon seller sat,
selling yellow melons,
succulent and fat.

A huge and hungry hippo
made the melon seller mad
when he swallowed all the melons
that the melon seller had.

--Jack Prelutsky



from Beneath a Blue Umbrella, rhymes by Jack Prelutsky; pictures by Garth Williams. Greenwillow, 1990.

If you haven't seen any of his collaborations with illustrator, Peter Sis, track them down. The Dragons Are Singing Tonight (1993), Monday's Troll (1996), The Gargoyle on the Roof (1999) and Scranimals (2002) are all published by Greenwillow.

For more fun and poetry, you can visit Jack Prelutsky's web site.

(Note: when quoting poems online, always include a full citation for the collection from which the poem originated. If the poem is not in the public domain (i.e. is still in copyright) abide by the principle of Fair Dealing in your use of the work.)

The Glory of Nonsense

Day 10 of Poetry Month

You've no doubt read The Owl and the Pussycat and you've likely read The Jumblies as well, but have you jumped whole-heartedly into Edward Lear's nonsense verse? In the mid-19th Century, he popularized the limerick and combined verse with cartoonish art in a way that still makes me swoon. The best way to read the poems is in the context of Lear's own art (click images to enlarge):



--Edward Lear



from A Book of Nonsense by Edward Lear. originally published in 1846.

Note: A Book of Nonsense was first published in 1846 but exists in multiple editions and reprints. Most libraries should have at least one version of it. I am currently looking at a 1981 facsimile reprint of the Frederick Warne edition that's held by the Osborne Collection. I also have a selected edition in front of me that was published by J. M. Dent and Sons in 1980.

(Note: when quoting poems online, always include a full citation for the collection from which the poem originated. If the poem is not in the public domain (i.e. is still in copyright) abide by the principle of Fair Dealing in your use of the work.)

N is for Nine and Narrative

Today's poetry collection contains many 19th Century standbys: Tennyson's Lady of Shallot, Browning's Pied Piper of Hamelin and Arnold's Forsaken Merman to name just a few. It's easy to imagine Anne Shirley glomming onto this book in order to prepare her recitations. There's also more contemporary narrative verse as well. I like the decidedly English tone of this one:

Uncle Alfred's Long Jump
When Mary Rand
Won the Olympic Long Jump,
My Auntie Hilda
Paced out the distance
On the pavement outside her house.
'Look at that!'
She shouted challengingly
At the dustman, the milkman, the grocer,
Two Jehovah's Witnesses
And a male St. Bernard
Who happened to be passing.
'A girl, a girl did that;
If you men are so clever
Let's see what you can do.'
Nobody took up the challenge
Until Uncle Alfred trudged home
Tired from the office
Asking for tea.
'Our Mary did that!'
Said Auntie Hilda proudly
Pointing from the lamppost
To the rose-bush by her gate.
'You men are so clever,
Let's see how near
That rose-bush you end up.'

His honour and manhood at stake,
Uncle Alfred put down his bowler
His brief-case and his brolly
And launched himself
Into a fifty yard run-up.
'End up at that rose-bush,'
He puffed mockingly,
"I'll show you where I'll end up.'
His take off from the lamppost
Was a thing of beauty,
But where he ended up
Was in The Royal Infirmary
With both legs in plaster.
'Some kind of record!'
He said proudly to the bone specialist;
While through long nights
In a ward full of coughs and snoring
He dreamed about the washing line
And of how to improve
His high jump technique.

--Gareth Owen

for more information on Mary Rand, click here



from, The Oxford Book of Story Poems, edited by Michael Harrison and Christopher Stuart-Clark. Oxford University Press, 1990, republished in paperback, 2006.

(Note: when quoting poems online, always include a full citation for the collection from which the poem originated. If the poem is not in the public domain (i.e. is still in copyright) abide by the principle of Fair Dealing in your use of the work.)

There's something great at number 8

This month will yield all sorts of classics including the these two, single-author collections:

Politeness
If people ask me,
I always tell them:
"Quite well, thank you, I'm very glad to say."
If people ask me,
I always answer,
"Quite well, thank you, how are you to-day?"
I always answer,
I always tell them,
If they ask me
Politely. . . .
BUT SOMETIMES

           I wish

                      That they wouldn't.

--A. A. Milne


Halfway Down
Halfway down the stairs
Is a stair
Where I sit.
There isn't any
Other stair
Quite like
It.
I'm not at the bottom,
I'm not at the top;
So this is the satir
Where
I always
Stop.

Halfway up the stairs
Isn't up,
And isn't down.
It isn't in the nursery,
It isn't in the town.
And all sorts of funny thoughts
Run round my head:
"It isn't really
Anywhere!
It's somewhere else
Instead!"

--A. A. Milne

from When We Were Very Young, by A. A. Milne, (illustrations by Ernest Shepard). I have a reprint of the first Canadian edition, McClelland and Stewart, 1925.

A Thought
If I were John and John were Me,
Then he'd be six and I'd be three.
If John were me and I were John,
I shouldn't have these trousers on.

from When We Were Very Young, by A. A. Milne with decorations by Ernest H. Shepard. I have the first Canadian edition, McClelland and Stewart, 1927.

(Note: when quoting poems online, always include a full citation for the collection from which the poem originated. If the poem is not in the public domain (i.e. is still in copyright) abide by the principle of Fair Dealing in your use of the work.)

For Day 7, I thought I'd turn to one of the more prolific children's poets out there, Colin McNaughton.

An adapted bit of fun:

Monday's Child is Red and Spotty
Monday's child is red and spotty,
Tuesday's child won't use the potty.
Wednesday's child won't go to bed,
Thursday's child will not be fed.
Friday's child breaks all his toys,
Saturday's child makes an awful noise.
And the child that's born on the seventh day
Is a pain in the neck like the rest, OK!

And an inspired original:

The Lesson
"Blether, blather, blah-blah, bosh.
Claptrap, humbug, poppycock, tosh.
Guff, flap-doodle, gas and gabble.
Hocus pocus, gibberish, babble.
Baloney, hooey, jabber, phew,
Stuff and nonsense, drivel, moo.
Rhubarb, rhubarb, rhubarb, banter.
Prattle, waffle, rave and ranter.
Rubbish, piffle, tommy-rot, guff,
Twaddle, bilge, bombast, bluff.
      Thank you."

--Colin McNaughton



from There's an Awful Lot of Weirdos in Our Neighborhood & Other Wickedly Funny Verse, by Colin McNaughton. Simon & Schuster Books for Young Readers, 1987.

When Hallowe'en comes around you can also take a peek at his Making Friends With Frankenstein: A Book of Monstrous Poems and Pictures (Candlewick, 1994) in which you'll find this brief gem:

Speak of the Devil,
Meet Cousin Neville!

(Note: when quoting poems online, always include a full citation for the collection from which the poem originated. If the poem is not in the public domain (i.e. is still in copyright) abide by the principle of Fair Dealing in your use of the work.)

Canadian poetry: as concrete as the escarpment

It's Day 6 of poetry month. Here is one of several Canadian collections I'll feature during April. And it won't be the only concrete poem on the list, either--that is if Blogger doesn't eat all my spacing.

Niagara Falls
Kapuskasing sings
             Cornwall calls
                    Thunder Bay storms
                                And Niagara
                                                 FALLS!

--Robert Heidbreder


from See Saw Saskatchewan: More Playful Poems from Coast to Coast, written by Robert Heidbreder; illustrated by Scot Ritchie. Kids Can Press, 2003.

(Note: when quoting poems online, always include a full citation for the collection from which the poem originated. If the poem is not in the public domain (i.e. is still in copyright) abide by the principle of Fair Dealing in your use of the work.)

Poetry month: #5

The Monster's Birthday
Oh, what a party!
They all ate hearty
of elegant bellyache stew.

Then came the cake
In the shape of a snake
and trimmed with octopus goo.

The balloons all went BANG!
And everyone sang,
"Happy birthday, dear Monster, to you."

--Lilian Moore

from Monster Poems, edited by Daisy Wallace; illustrated by Kay Chorao. Holiday House: 1976.

(Note: when quoting poems online, always include a full citation for the collection from which the poem originated. If the poem is not in the public domain (i.e. is still in copyright) abide by the principle of Fair Dealing in your use of the work.)

More, more, bring on four.

There was a pigeon,
A mighty flier,
His friends all called him
Pigeon McGuire.

But he perched upon
An electric wire--
And that was the end of
Pigeon McGuire!

--Langston Hughes

from The Sweet and Sour Animal Book, alphabet animal poems by Langston Hughes; illustrated by the students of the Harlem School of the Arts. Oxford UP: 1994.

(Note: when quoting poems online, always include a full citation for the collection from which the poem originated. If the poem is not in the public domain (i.e. is still in copyright) abide by the principle of Fair Dealing in your use of the work.)

Two by two leads to number three

Poetry month continues. And now for #3.

Ar-A-Rat
I know a rat on Ararat,
He isn't thin, he isn't fat
Never been chased by any cat,
Not that rat on Ararat.
He's sitting high on a mountain breeze,
Never tasted any cheese,
Never chewed up any old hat,
Not that rat on Ararat.
He just sits alone on a mountain breeze,
Wonders why the trees are green,
Ponders why the ground is flat,
O that rat on Ararat.
His eyes like saucers in the dark--
The last to slip from Noah's ark.

--Grace Nichols

from No Hickory, No Dickory, No Dock: Caribbean Nursery Rhymes, written and remembered by John Agard and Grace Nichols; illustrated by Cynthia Jabar. Candlewick: 1995.

Might I also suggest: Under the Moon and Over the Sea: A Collection of Caribbean Poems, edited by John Agard and Grace Nichols; various illustrators. Candlewick: 2002.

(Note: when quoting poems online, always include a full citation for the collection from which the poem originated. If the poem is not in the public domain (i.e. is still in copyright) abide by the principle of Fair Dealing in your use of the work.)

Two for day two

Poetry month continues. Here are two for day two:

It's Hard to Lose your Lover
It's hard to lose your lover
When your heart is full of hope
But it's worse to lose your towel
When your eyes are full of soap.

--Anonymous


Keep a Poem in Your Pocket
Keep a poem in your pocket
and a picture in your head
and you'll never feel lonely
at night when you're in bed.

The little poem will sing to you
the little picture bring to you
a dozen dreams to dance to you
at night when you're in bed.

So---
Keep a picture in your pocket
and a poem in your head
and you'll never feel lonely
at night when you're in bed.

--Beatrice Schenk de Regniers



from Poetry By Heart: A Child's Book of Poems to Remember, compiled by Liz Attenborough. Chicken House: 2001.

(Note: when quoting poems online, always include a full citation for the collection from which the poem originated. If the poem is not in the public domain (i.e. is still in copyright) abide by the principle of Fair Dealing in your use of the work.)

A poem a day keeps the tedium away

April is poetry month. To celebrate I will post one children's poem a day for 30 days straight. Each poem will let you know just what book you can find it in. By the end of the month, I will have given you a list of 30, count 'em 30, books of children's poetry. No foolin'.

Raining Cats
It's raining cats,
A cataract,
A waterfall,
With felines stacked.
One, two, and three--
Catastrophe,
They're purring down
On top of me.

--Jane Yolen


from Raining Cats and Dogs, written by Jane Yolen; illustrated by Jane Street. Harcourt, 1993.

(Note: when quoting poems online, always include a full citation for the collection from which the poem originated. If the poem is not in the public domain (i.e. is still in copyright) abide by the principle of Fair Dealing in your use of the work.)