Poem 46 (Pandemic Day 53)

English is a Pain! (Pane?)

by Shirlee Curlee Bingham

Rain, reign, rein.

English is a pain.

Although the words

sound just alike,

the spelling's not the same!

Bee, be, B,

I'd rather climb a tree.

than learn to spell

the same old word,

not just one way, but three!

Sight, site, cite,

I try with all my might,

No matter which

I finally choose, 

it's not the one that's right!

There, their, they're,

enough to make you swear.

Too many ways 

to write one sound,

I just don't think it's fair!

To, two, too,

so what's a kid to do?

I think I'll go

to live on Mars,

and leave this mess with ewe!

(you?)

A Bad Case of the Giggles: Kids' Favorite Funny Poems, selected by Bruce Lansky, Meadowbrook Press, 1994.

I spend a big chunk of each day of the pandemic with my 7-year old granddaughter teaching and learning and we both agree...English can be a pain!  The vowels insist on making more than one sound or maybe no sound at all when they are paired with another vowel (why are they even there you could ask...). Even the consonants can turn on you and make hard sounds or soft sounds or no sound at all--"g" and "h" are famous for that when they snuggle up together and "k" likes to let "n" do the talking when they march at the head of a word.  I just all you can do is giggle and use spellcheck!

Poems 44 and 45 (Pandemic Day 52)

Arithmetic 

Arithmetic is where numbers fly like pigeons in and out of your head.

Arithmetic tells you how many you lose or win if you know how many you have before you

         lost or won

Arithmetic is seven eleven all good children go to heaven-or five six bundle of sticks.

Arithmetic is numbers you squeeze from your head to your hand to your pencil to your paper            till you get the answer.

Arithmetic is where the answer is right and everything is nice and you can look out

      of the window and see the blue sky--or the answer is wrong and you have to start all over         and try again and see how it comes out this time.

If you take a number and double it and double it again and then double it a few more times,             the number get bigger and bigger and goes higher and higher and only arithmetic can tell            you what the number is when you decide to quit doubling.

Arithmetic is where you have to multiply--and you carry the multiplication table in your head              and hope you won't lose it.

If you have two animal crackers, one good and one bad, and you eat one and a striped zebra            with streaks all over him eats the other, how many animal crackers will you have if                  offers you five six seven somebody and you say No no no and you say Nay nay nay                and you say Nix nix nix?

If you ask your mother for one fried egg for breakfast and she gives you two fried eggs                 and you eat both of them, who is. better in arithmetic, you or your mother?

Buffalo Dusk

The buffaloes are gone.

And those who saw the buffaloes are gone.

Those who saw the buffaloes by thousands and how they pawed the 

          prairie sod into dust with their hoofs, their great heads down pawing 

          on in a great pageant of dusk,

Those who saw the buffaloes are gone.

And the buffaloes are gone.

Carl Sandburg, Rainbows ARe Made: Poems by Carl Sandburg, selected by Lee Bennett Hopkins, Harcourt, Brace, Jovanovich, 1982.

These poems were selected for young readers by Hopkins who had been a teacher and fell in love with Sandburg's poetry early in his career.  His affection is evident in the poetry selections and design

of the book.  There is plenty of room on the pages for the poems to shine on their own, the full page wood engravings are masterly and engaging and the chapter headings are a poem themselves—about poetry....”Poetry is a series of explanations of life, fading off into horizons too swift for explanations.” Is the first one.  I haven’t read a lot of Sandburg, but I’m reminded now to spend more time with this poet who...”stops for the buzzing of bumblebees on bright Tuesdays in any summer month...”

Poems 42 and 43  (Pandemic Day 51)

Of My Former Self

by Georgia Cook

"Bone loss"

announces my dentist promising

to cap that noble worker,

lower back grinder,

I'm hoping to keep to cremation

It's a disappearing act.

Store clerks and waiters address

my daughters when we're out together...

In family albums

I'm bigger than the children,

How is it now, when we hug,

I'm smaller.

The last week in August

hiking in the Highline Trail,

sumac is starting small fires.

Milkweed grows here:

the arbitrary flutter of monarchs is

taking them to Mexico.

My good shadow bounces

from asphalt to prairie grasses,

to goldenrod, quicker, slimmer, darker than I am.

The Shade of Lilacs

by Charles V. Lisle

The best part of the springtime when he was ten

was sitting with his dog under the lilac bushes at

the end of the block and waiting for his dad to be

walking home.  The little terrier would see him

first and bark and bounce as they ran to him and 

skittered 'round him, trading tales of the day.

One sunny day when he was sixty he drove back

and parked at the corner where the lilacs once

stood.  They were long gone, but the breeze still

held the scent of them.  And the sound of a small

dog barking.

100 Words on Shadow, Volume 4 No. 2, International Writing Program, 1996.

Okay, folks...you've got only 100 words to tell a story, capture a moment, express your reality.  Can you do it and can you do it in such a way that others can understand the moment or the story and feel what you feel?  I think Georgia and Charles succeeded.  What do you think?

https://www.alaskastar.com/2018-05-22/garden-growing-lilacs

Poem 41 (Pandemic Day 50)

God Got Cable

And for a week

watched nothing but.

Didn't see the comet.

Didn't see the hurricane.

Missed that baby

being born entirely.

Just watched cable.

Funny thing is,

He like it.

He knew He wasn't supposed to.

All those girls

crying about their

boyfriends.

All those track meets.

All that

soap and toothpaste.

He liked it.

Couldn't help it.

Then Gabriel came

over with a deck of cards

and next thing you know,

they've played poker four weeks straight.

Gabriel's beard nearly 

as long as God's 

and corn chips all over the place.

And what God decided was that

he like not cable,

not poker,

but a break.

Every now and then,

even God needs a break.

Cynthia Rylant, God Went to Beauty School,  Harper Tempest, 2003.

I love this book by prolific Newbery Award-winning author/poem Cynthia Rylant.  God goes to the movies, the doctor, takes a bath and gets a dog.  The poems are humorous, but also reflective and profoundly spiritual.  There are not many books like this for young readers; I'm grateful for this one.  Its reflective mood puts me in mind of Joan Osborne's song, "What if God Were One of Us?"

Poem 40 (Pandemic Day 49)

When She Turned 40-ish

A    Annette wrote her memoirs on the back of a paper bag.

B     Bernice still didn't understand the principles of economics, & found she no longer cared.  

C     Carmen buried herself in cheesecake.  

D    Deena burned her diary and journals.

E     Elisa finally went to a Cher concert.

F     Francine began stalking writers at book-signing events.

G    Greta realized she talked too much.

H    Hailey  found she could no longer sleep without medication.

I     Ione got her first tattoo.

J     Jane began singing in karaoke bars.

K    Kayla moved to Easter Island.

L    Lavonne lost 10 pounds when she stopped eating.

M   Maggie gained 10 pounds when she stopped smoking.

N    Nancy realized she was no longer a girl detective.

O   Olivia gave up on a scrapbooking.

P      Penny became allergic to her cats.

Q     Queenie started buying lottery tickets.

R    Ramona tossed her "to do" list in the garbage and never looked back.

S      Sheila ran off with the circus.

T    Tamara became a cartographer.

U    Uma bought a yellow pant suit.

V   Vilma started hanging out at the courthouse.

W  Wendy was horrified to realize how many calories were in a bottle of Riesling

X   Xena became a warrior princess.

Y   Yvonne figured out how to calculate the required return for a preferred stock.

Z    Zelda accepted the fact that she would never read "War and Peace."

Carmen McCulloch, When She Turned 40-Ish, 2012

McCulloch is a mixed media collage artist who creates a fashionable outfit for each of our 40-ish gals out of Moda, Chrysalis fabric by Sanae on a background of paint, glue and pattern tissue.  I'm not sure this alphabetical narrative is really a poem, but with the addition of the fun artwork we get a fuller experience of the metamorphosis that women can experience as they move into their maturity.  Think of our clothing as a manifestation of our personalities--as we change, our garments may change too--do we choose to camouflage or blossom?  I think most of these women choose to bloom--run off to the circus, Sheila!!

Poems 38 and 39  (Pandemic Day 48)

I Like Pets

Once I hid a baby mouse

In the pocket of a blouse.

Mother found him, had a fit,

Told me to get rid of it.

Once I found a slimy slug,

Put him on the bathroom rug.

Mother found him, had a fit,

Told me to get rid of it.

Once I had a frog named Scamper,

Pet him in the laundry hamper.

Mother found him, had a fit,

Told me to get rid of it.

Once I caught a lovely bat,

Hid him in an old straw hat.

Mother found him, had a fit,

Told me to get rid of it.

Now I have a grassy snake,

Hidden in a box marked Cake

Mother's sure to have a fit,

She will scream, "Get rid of it!"

Hooray for Chocolate

Chocolate pudding,

Chocolate candy,

Chocolate drink, I think, is dandy.

Chocolate fudge,

And doughnuts too,

Covered with thick chocolate goo.

Chocolate cookies,

Chocolate cake, 

In a cone I always take

Chocolate,

Or chocolate chip,

Or chocolate-covered dairy dip.

Boy, oh boy! It would be nice

If only there were

Chocolate rice,

Chocolate spinach, stew and fish...

Chocolate in every dish!

Lucia and James L. Hymes, Jr., Hooray for Chocolate, Young People Press, 1972.

The upheaval of our lives right now is enough to give us all fits, regardless of the presence of mice, slugs frogs, bats or snakes.  Thank goodness for chocolate!  I wshl I could share some with you all!

When it's safe to travel again, a chocolate pilgrimage might be a good idea! 

Ode to the Artichoke

Poem 37 (Pandemic Day 47)

Ode to the Artichoke

The tender-hearted
artichoke
got dressed as a warrior,

erect, built
a little cupola,
stood
impermeable
under
its scales,
around it
the crazy vegetables
bristled,
grew
astonishing tendrils,
cattails, bulbs,
in the subsoil
slept the carrot
with its red whiskers,
the grapevine
dried the runners
through which it carries the wine,
the cabbage
devoted itself
to trying on skirts,
oregano
to perfuming the world,
and the gentle
artichoke
stood there in the garden,
dressed as a warrior,
burnished
like a pomegranate,
proud,
and one day
along with the others
in large willow
baskets, it traveled
to the market
to realize its dream:
the army.
Amid the rows
never was it so military
as at the fair,
men
among the vegetables
with their white shirts
were
marshals
of the artichokes,
the tight ranks,
the voices of command,
and the detonation
of a falling crate,
but
then
comes
Maria
with her basket,
picks an artichoke,
isn't afraid of it,
examines it, holds it
to the light as if it were an egg,
buys it,
mixes it up
in her bag
with a pair of shoes,
with a head of cabbage and a
bottle of vinegar
until
entering the kitchen
she submerges it in a pot.
Thus ends
in peace
the career
of the armored vegetable
which is called artichoke,
then
scale by scale
we undress
its delight
and we eat
the peaceful flesh
of its green heart.

Pablo Neruda, Full Woman, Fleshly Apple, Hot Moon, Translated by Stephen Mitchell, Harper, 1997

There is a poem for everything...if you can't find one, then you need to write it yourself.  However, I'd check in with Neruda first.