Today National Poetry Month begins. If you and your spouse are both English majors, you, too, are probably spending all of April reading your three daughters several poems each night before they go to bed. If you want to do that and want quick and easy access to some poems, try this or this. (If you first need to acquire an English major, a spouse, and/or three daughters, you'll need to start somewhere else.)
According to Susan's aunt Patti, Grandma Morey (mother of Patti and Sue [Susan's mom], et al.) loved poetry. Patti shared with me two poems that Grandma Morey had to learn when she was in school; Patti muses, "I can still hear her reciting them to us." Happy Poetry Month, Grandma Morey (and everybody else)! Here are those poems:
"A Mortifying Mistake" by Anna M. Pratt
"Somebody's Mother" by Mary Dow Brine
P.S. Do you have a favorite poem--or a memorable one from your past? Click "comments" below and share!
I remember Grandma reciting both of those poems -- she would always recite "A Mortifying Mistake" when she was rocking a grandchild to sleep!
ReplyDeleteWhen I was in college, Grandma would send me little "thinking of you" notes, and she'd include little cards with inspirational poems(most of which she got for making donations to various religious organizations). Here's the one that was my favorite -- I kept the card posted by my desk, and remember it to this day!
God has not promised
Skies always blue
Flower strewn pathways
All our lives through.
God has not promised
Sun without rain,
Joy without sorrow,
Peace without pain.
But God has promised
Strength for the day,
Rest for the laborer,
Light for the way,
Grace for the trials,
Help from above,
Unfailing sympathy,
Undying love.
My favorite Poem is by far Robert Frost's Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening. I first saw it when I was in fourth grade (maybe younger?) in a church bulletin. By the time mass had ended, I had the poem memorized. It helped me out through numerous poetry lessons through grade school, middle school, high school and even college! Ever since reading his poem, I've been hooked on poetry. I'm sure you've introduced the girls to Shel Silverstein. Grandma Morey had a few of his books stashed in the living room closet with all the toys.
ReplyDeleteHere's one the girls may enjoy that I always got a kick out of as a kid:
Mr. Nobody
Author Unknown
I know a funny little man,
As quit as a mouse,
Who does the mischief that is done
In everybody's house!
There's no one ever sees his face,
And yet we all agree
That every plate we break was cracked
By Mr. Nobody
`Tis he who always tears our books,
Who leaves the door ajar,
He pulls the buttons from our shirts,
And scatters pine afar;
That squeaking door will always squeak,
For, prithee, don't you see,
We leave the oiling to be done
By Mr. Nobody
The finger marked upon the door
By none of us are made;
We never leave the blind unclosed,
To let the curtains fade.
The ink we never spill; the boots
That lying round you. See
Are not our boots they all belong
To Mr. Nobody.
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
Robert Frost
Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.
My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.
He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.
The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
I also enjoyed teaching younger cousins the Shel Silverstein poem "Dreadful" -- especially when a younger sibling was on the way. (For those who haven't read the poem, it starts out "Somebody ate the baby..."). Twisted, but fun :-)
ReplyDeleteI too am a Shel Silverstein fan. I'm sure my mom gave me one of his books when I was a kid and I was hooked. His humor is twisted and wonderful, especially to a young girl who loved to escape into the world of fantasy through reading. I can't think of a favorite of his, but from the well worn pages of my collection you can tell they are loved. I even have a signed copy of The Giving Tree which was once again provided by mom. I believe he was at one of the zillion Teacher Conventions/events she's attending thus far in her life.
ReplyDeleteMy grandma was another big influence on my ecclectic taste in books, music and life in general. When I read this post the first poem that popped into my head was:
The Worms Crawl In
Did you ever think, as a hearse goes by,
That you might be the next to die?
They wrap you up in a big white sheet,
And bury you down about six feet deep
They put you in a big black box,
And cover you up with dirt and rocks,
And all goes well, for about a week,
And then the coffin begins to leak!
The worms crawl in, the worms crawl out,
The worms play pinochle on your snout.
They eat your eyes, they eat your nose,
They eat the jelly between your toes.
A great big worm with rolling eyes,
Crawls in your stomach and out your eyes,
Your stomach turns a slimy green,
And pus pours out like whipping cream.
You spread it on a slice of bread,
And that's what worms eat when you're dead.
Hmm, a bit morbid but once again it stuck in my brain from many years ago!