7-3-10 Vachel Lindsay

The Little Turtle by Vachel Lindsay There was a little turtle. He lived in a box. He swam in a puddle. He climbed on the rocks. He snapped at a mosquito. He snapped at a flea. He snapped at a minnow. And he snapped at me. He caught the mosquito. He caught the flea. He [...]

12-28-09 Abby Contemplates Poetry

The Creatures Rest by Alcman (7th century B.C.E.) Now sleep mountain-top and chasm headland and ravine, creeping kinds that emerge from the black earth beasts who roam the hillside, the race of bees, and creatures submerged in the purple sea now sleep, and tribes, too, of the wide-winged. This poetry book, edited by John Hollander [...]

2-14-09 Will you be my Valentine?

“How do I love thee? Let me count the ways…” by Elizabeth Barrett Browning (1806-1861) How do I love thee? Let me count the ways. I love thee to the depth and breadth and height My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight For the ends of Being and ideal Grace. I love thee to the [...]

2-13-09 Sit, Abby. Now what?

“It has an air about it of having strolled in from the street with a few tricks up its sleeve, and if everybody would relax, please, it would do its best  to pass the time whimsically.” Walter Kerr

2-4-09 Dreams

Again I’ve been inspired by students. This time it was a group exploring poetry by Langston Hughes. The tone of these 8th graders was clearly upbeat. There were kids in this group that I’ve observed NOT participating in lessons in the past. In fact, as much as I hate to admit it, I sort of [...]

1-13-09 Deep Chill

Deep Chill by Lisa Monson A chill rushes in And the door stands open; A discovery has been made. It’s winter now And deeply so; The air feels crisp to breathe. It sends a chill Right through your body A chill that compares to no other. You see, it’s the chill That lets us know [...]

12-10-08 Moments

“We do not remember days, we remember moments.” -Cesare Pavese

12-06-08 Abby Sunshine and Robert Frost

Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening by 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 [...]