Above the Dreamless Dead: World War I in Poetry and Comics

My Latin teacher, Mrs. Jones, made me memorize this quote from the Aeneid  when I was 15--Sunt lacrimae rerum, et mentem motilia tangunt (There are tears of things, and they touch the human heart).   It pretty much sums up the book I just finished-- Above the Dreamless Dead: World War I in Poetry and Comics, edited by Chris Duffy (First Second, July 2014, YA on up)

Many of the poems of the WW I English poets that are anthologized here, illustrated by various graphic artists, were not new to me, but seeing them illustrated twisted, sharpened, and deepened my emotional reaction to them.  And my emotional reaction to the pity of it, and the horror of it, is so great that any intellectual response is dampened to the banality of "I don't like this one as much" or "Yes, that is great writing, and gee those are powerful images" (then taking a break in the reading to allow the eyes to clear).

So I can't critically review this one.

I can say, though, that I think it is a valuable book.  And that I think we need books like this, in a format that's friendly and familiar to young readers, that might shake the foundations of safe complacency.

"If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood
Come gurgling from the froth-corrupted lungs,
Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud
Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,

My friend, you would not tell with such high zest
To children ardent for some desperate glory,
The old Lie; Dulce et decorum est
Pro patria mori.

[Sweet and good it is to die for your country].

George Pratt's black and white illustrations, understated, matter of fact, help bring the point of Wilfred Owen's famous poem home.  

So yes, it's a good book, with the emotional heft of great poems made more so by the drawings.   And it's made education friendly by the ordering of the poems by their sequence in the war--The Call to War, In the Trenches, and Aftermath, by an introduction explaining trench warfare and poetry, bios. of the poets, and by notes about each poem and its adaptation.  You can go look at these things here at First Second. 

And moving on from there, more poetry comics, please, First Second!  They are such a useful and easy way to acquire cultural literacy.

Example:  On a much lighter and somewhat tangential note--Busman's Honeymoon, by Dorothy Sayers (the one in which Peter and Harriet are married) is full of quotations and references (I would like an annotated edition, please) and I finally (!), thanks to inclusion of Everyone Sang, by Siegfried Sassoon, realize where the line that comes into Harriet's head at one point "Everyone suddenly burst out singing" comes from.  It's not utterly tangential, because of course Lord Peter was himself a veteran of WW I....and this makes the peace he finds with Harriet all the more powerful.  As Sasson's poem goes on to say--

"And beauty came like the setting sun:

My heart was shaken with tears, and horror
Drifted away..."

Which Sayers doubtless knew and was thinking of, because she was smart without the help of poetry comics!

(disclaimer: review copy received from the publisher)

(for the first time in ages, I get to be part of Poetry Friday, hosted today at A Year of Reading!)

A Little Bitty Man and Other Poems for the Very Young, by Halfdan Rasmussen

A Little Bitty Man and Other Poems for the Very Young, by Halfdan Rasmussen, translated by Marilyn Nelson and Pamela Espeland, and illustrated by Kevin Hawkes (Candlewick, 2011).

I don't review a huge number of poetry picture books (maybe one or two a year), but when I saw the cover of A Little Bitty Man I wanted to read it--I can never say no to snail riders.

Here's the first verse of the titular poem:

"A little bitty man
took a ride on a snail
down little bitty rod that was shady.
The little bitty man
came to Littlebittyland,
where he married a little bitty lady."

And now the snail is shown tethered to a hitching post outside a little bitty house!

The thirteen poems in this book are about half fantasy--there's the little bitty man, of course, and a cloud child, an elf with mice in his pockets, and a doll who runs away, and about half observations on real life--how the seasons change, how to end a fight, and the days of the week, for instance. They were translated from the Danish, and I can't, of course, evaluate how closely they capture the originals. I can say that they were pleasing poems, in rhyme and scansion, with just one jarring word ("partake," for instance, is pretty sophisticated vocabulary for the young, although it's easy to see what it means in context).

But what I can say with confidence is that these poems, especially the fantasy ones, are lovely little sparks for the imagination. The cloud child poem, for instance, tells of a little cloud that just couldn't hold it anymore, and, lacking a potty, let loose on the road...it runs home again, and is scolded by its mom. It seems to me that a cloud child is a lovely thing to have in one's imagination--what adventures will it have next? And what will the little bitty man do next? What might his house look like inside? How do you tame a wild snail? Why does a child have lion for his pet:

Kevin Hawke's illustrations are, for the most part, light in color, and high on detail. They aren't in your face, bright and lavish--rather, they let the reader come to them, balancing the poems nicely.

A Little Bitty Man picked up a starred review from the Horn Book: "Most of the selections aren't more than a few stanzas long, but each one hits you with a bright burst of humor that's like a sip of a fizzy drink on a hot day. . . . Hawkes's pencil and acrylic illustrations highlight the humor and the whimsy of the nonsense verses, but they also underscore the poems' innocence and childlike dignity when called for, and the artist gets the mix exactly right."

And another star from School Library Journal: "The quaint poems have liberal helpings of both wit and whimsy and an occasional sprinkling of mild potty humor. . . . The whole has an uncluttered and inviting effect. Likely to become a classic, this is a great addition to any picture-book collection."

I still think the snail is the best part, but I appreciated the potty humor too, and, more seriously, I found the book as a whole both attractive and interesting.

(disclaimer: review copy received from the publisher)

For more poetry goodness, here's this week's Poetry Friday Round-up!

The Beachcomber spoofs the poems of A.A. Milne, for Poetry Friday

So there I was, peacefully reading my little one the poems of A.A. Milne, from When We Were Very Young and Now We are Six, and we were enjoying them very much. Of course I was only reading my favorites, such as "Once upon a time there were three little foxes, who didn't wear stockings and they didn't wear sockses..." (full poem here) and the incomparable "James James Morrison Morrison" (full poem here) and the soon to be seasonably appropriate King John's Christmas (full poem here) and we were having a happy time.

But all innocently happy times (in my family at any rate) end up tarred with the brush of cynical wit, and this was no exception. My husband pulled out his copy of The Best of Beachcomber, by J.B. Morton, and read us the following (found on page 57 of our 1963 copy):

John Percy
Said to his nursy,
Nursy," he said, said he.
"Tell father
I'd much rather
He didn't write books about me."
"Lawkamercy!"
Shouted nursy,
"John Percy," said she,
"If dad stopped it,
If dad dropped it,
We shouldn't have honey for tea!"

And then the even more mood-destroying "Now We Are Sick" (page 60)

"Hush, hush,
Nobody cares!
Christopher Robin
Has
Fallen
Down-
Stairs."

(which of course dear, dear Blogger won't let me format correctly. Grrr.)

These are poems from a volume J.B. Morton was working on, about which he says (on pages 51-52):

"There is a great vogue for what is called the Woogie-Poogie-Boo kind of children's book, and I am doing my best to get one ready. I don't know what it will be called, but I rather fancy Songs Through My Hat, or perhaps When We Were Very Silly. Here is a poem called "Theobald James".

I've got a silk-worm
A teeny-tiny silk-worm;
I call my silk-worm
Theobald James.
But nursie says it's cruel
Nursie says it's wicked
To call a teeny-tiny little
Silk-
Worm
NAMES

I said to my silk-worm
"Oh, Mr Silk-worm,
I'd rather be a silk-worm
Than anything far!"
And nursie says he answered,
Nursie says he shouted,
"You wish you were a silk-worm?
You little
Prig,
You
ARE!"

(once again, no thanks to Blogger viz formatting.)

At any event, I shall continue to enjoy those poems of Milne which I already enjoy. And if you are looking for a book to give to someone who appreciates English humor, you could do worst than The Best of Beachcomber. J.B. Morton wrote a witty column every day for nearly forty years for the Daily Express, and this book is a compilation of the best of his work. Here is how Chapter 1 begins:

"Mr Justice Cocklecarrot began the hearing of a very curious case yesterday. A Mrs Tasker is accused of continually ringing the doorbell of a Mrs Renton, and then, when the door is opened, pushing a dozen red-bearded dwarfs into the hall and leaving them there."

And now I go to work, to rest from the weary toils and vexations of life at home. Have a lovely Friday!

(The Poetry Friday round-up is at my juicy little universe today!)

Nursery Rhyme Comics: 50 Timeless Rhymes from 50 Celebrated Cartoonists

Nursery Rhyme Comics -- "fifty classic verses illustrated in comics form by today's greatest cartoonists!" (2011, First Second Books)

This is a extraordinarily entertaining book. Fifty great illustrators, including many familiar to me, such as Nick Bruel, Jules Feiffer, Eleanor Davis, David Macaulay, and Gene Luen Yang, to name just a few, offer interpretations of classic nursery rhymes in wonderfully entertaining graphic novel style. Some interpretations are Dark (the introduction of a hungry wolf family into This Little Piggie by Cyril Pedrosa makes for a marvelous little story--not all the pigs make it safely home....), some are lovely and evocative (Stephanie Yue makes Hickory Dickory Dock into a mouse world fantasy), and David Macaulay's London Bridge is Falling Down offers three pages of the wonderful detail one expects from him. Some are aimed at young readers of picture books, some seem created for older readers And some (like James Stern's take on Jack Be Nimble) use the graphic panel form to add snarky and amusing subtext to the original verse.

I could go on and on....but the short answer is--this is Great Fun! It is much like a gourmet box of mixed chocolates--lots of variety, with something for every taste (although of course not everyone will like everything, and there were a few that didn't appeal to me), and makes a great gift!

If you feel that your child has reached the advanced age of 11 or so without a sufficient familiarity with classic nursery rhymes--give them this book! Or leave it on your coffee table, and watch them pick it up over and over again....(mine did this...). (Any adult guest worth their salt will probably pick it up too).

If you want a fun book to share with students that opens up imaginative possibilities, maybe leading to a Nursery rhyme illustration project of their own, give them this book.

If you want something fun and different to share in exploratory delight with a younger child--this is the book!

If you want a book to give to an adult friend with a sense of humor who likes graphic novels, but are uncertain about what books they already have, this might well be a good choice!

Personally, I myself am especially fond of this book because it came on Monday last week, and we decided to go out to eat, forgetting that half our town had no electricity...the place was mobbed, and our order got lost in the shuffle...hours passed, but I had Nursery Rhyme Comics with me, and it proved invaluable in keeping my own boys happy. And then they gave us our meal for free. Had we not been so pleasant about it (thanks in large part to having had a book like this with us) this might not have happened.

Thanks, First Second Books, for the review copy!

The Kidlitosphere's Poetry Friday Round-Up is at The Miss Rumphius Effect today!

The Space Child's Mother Goose, for Poetry Friday

When I was eleven, I met the word "postulate" for the first time. It was in the following poem:


"Probable-Possible, my black hen,
She lays eggs in the Relative When.
She doesn't lay eggs in the Positive Now
Because she's unable to Postulate how."

This poem is the first in a slim volume entitled The Space Child's Mother Goose, by Frederick Winsor, illustrated by Marian Parry. It was published way back in 1956, but is still holding great appeal to the science geek-esque eleven year old of today. I know this for a fact, because I have been reading it with my own such child for three nights in a row. Not only are the poems (those we understand, which is by no means all of them...) fun, but it is illustrated in charming bizarrity with black and white illustrations filled with vaguely mathematical details, and peopled by space personages who have beaks (or possibly just very triangular profiles).

"There was an old woman with notions quite new,
She never told children the things they should do,
She hoisted the covers up over her head
When people explained where her theories led."

Here's the poem that most delights my boy-- a riff on The House that Jack Built.

It begins "This is the theory that Jack built."

And progressively we reach:

"This is the Button to Start the Machine
To make with the Cybernetics and Stuff
To cover Chaotic Confusion and Bluff
That hung on the Turn of a Plausible Phrase
And thickened the Erudite Verbal Haze
Cloaking Constant K
That saved the Summary
Based on the Mummery
Hiding the Flaw
That lay in the Theory Jack built."

And then along comes a Space Child "with Brow Serene"--- and Jack's Theory goes up in smoke!

My son has it memorized, and I am trying to convince him that the next time he has to take a standardized writing test, he should put in "erudite verbal haze." That, and the "turn of a plausible phrase" are our favorite lines.

So educational--some of us had to look up "sophistry" and "cybernetics" so that we could be sure we were explaining things properly (we knew in a general way, but not solidly enough to be sure). And some of us had no idea at all what, for instance, Jato was (although others of us, not me, did).

I'm not entirely convinced, though, by the quality of the verse....this is one of those cases where I find myself "improving" the poetry as I read it. Don't you think, for instance, that the last line of the Old Woman Who Lived in the Shoe one above needs a "had" in the last line? And isn't "possible probable" more fun to say than "probable possible?" Oh well, you can't have everything in this imperfect world.

Side note: my mother once went on a birding trip with two famous astrophysicists; she was shocked they'd never heard of this, and ordered them a copy the moment she got home. She no longer has her own copy....for reasons best left, um, unsaid...though I'm pretty sure I would have asked first...I think.

Although first editions are scarce and costly, the reprinted edition of The Space Child's Mother Goose is available here at Think Geek for only 13.95

The Poetry Friday Round-Up is at The Opposite of Indifference today!

Mother Goose Picture Puzzles, by Will Hillenbrand, for Poetry Friday

For Poetry Friday, and also for Tidy Up Loose Books Day (which we actually celebrate every day in our house), I offer Mother Goose Picture Puzzles, by Will Hillenbrand (Marshall Cavendish, 2011, 40 pp).

My own children learned their Mother Goose rhymes with the same Richard Scarry book that I had when I was young, but if I had had on hand a copy of Mother Goose Picture Puzzles I would most definitely have read it to them early and often. Likewise, if I had a two- or three-year-old to buy a book gift for, this would be on my list.

Hillenbrand's version of Mother Goose incorporates rebus-es (rebi?) into twenty of the classic nursery rhymes (ie, there are pictures of "mouse" and "clock" instead of the words in Hickory Dickory Dock). The pictures are (for the most part) self-evident to even a little one, but what makes it fun is that the things pictured appear in the larger illustrations with word labels. This adds another interactive element to the book, as you try to find the word that goes with each picture, and is a nice way to acquire a bit of word recognition.

I would have loved it as a two-year old (I'm pretty sure), and I wish I had it when my own boys were two or three! I enjoy Hillenbrand's illustrations lots in general, and the ones in this book are particularly charming.

disclaimer: review copy received from the publisher, and it is off to be donated the library today, which will give me a sense of accomplishment all out of proportion to the actual progress made viz moving books off of temporary storage piles and into more permanent homes.

The Poetry Friday Round-up is at Check It Out today!

Zog, by Julia Donaldson --a dragon picture book in verse

Zog, by Julia Donaldson, illustrated by Axel Scheffler (Alison Green Books, 2010 in the UK)


By happy chance the Book Depository accidentally included this picture book in with my recent order, and said I was welcome to keep it. I'd heard about this one--it was the winner of the Galaxy Children's Book Award in 2010, and Julia Donaldson was well known to me already as the author of The Gruffalo.

"Madam Dragon ran a school, many moons ago.
She taught young dragons all the things that dragons need to know.

Zog, the biggest dragon, was the keenest one by far.
He tried his hardest every day to win a golden star."

But alas for Zog! He is rather accident prone, and his efforts to fly, roar, and breath fire all come to painful conclusions. Happily, he is rescued each time by a girl who ministers to his hurts...and when it comes time for the next test of draconic ability, Princess Kidnapping, Pearl is there for him again, kindly allowing herself to be captured.

Pearl stays with the dragons, serving as their resident doctor...but princess kidnapped by dragons have a habit of attracting knights who want to rescue them (even if they don't want to be rescued).

"A year went by, and in Year Five, the dragons learned to fight.
"Right!" said Madam Dragon. "Here comes a real live knight!"

"Up spoke the knight: "My name," he said,
"is Gadabout the Great.
I've come to rescue Princess Pearl.
I hope I'm not too late."

But all ends happily, with Pearl, the knight, and Zog setting off to begin a new career as the Flying Doctors.

It's fun, it's charming, and it has a nice point. The verse in which it is written both scans nicely and has great swing to it. I don't quite see it as an award winner myself, but Zog and co are truly likable dragons who should delight the young reader.

It's handy to have a book in verse to contribute to Poetry Friday! The round-up is at Carol's Corner today.

Looking for Luna, by Tim Myers, a picture book in verse

Looking for Luna, by Tim Myers, illustrated by Mike Reed (Marshall Cavendish 2009)

"We're after a cat,
a soft-stepping cat,
I'm walking with dad and we're after a cat.
With me out in front and Dad close behind,
there's a wandering kitty we need to find."

And so the hunt for Luna beings...all over the neighborhood, a little girl and her father search and search for the lost kitty. There are many places for a cat to explore here, and many cats busy (or not so busy) going about their feline days.

"We pass a rickety wooden house,
where a yellow cat's just caught a mouse
a cat we rarely see, who creeps
through canna lilies, pauses, leaps
up to the top of the garden wall,
then shadows away like mist in fall."

As the search goes on, and girl and Dad great more and more familiar cats, it becomes clear that they have done this many times before...but at last, there is Luna! Not far away, and happy to be held again. So there's little anxiety here-looking for Luna is more a familiar adventure of daily life then a dreadful worry.

And in fact, the book ends with another hunt "for a soft-stepping, shining-eyed, milk-lapping cat" beginning...giving a reason for father and child to set off on a quest together, on a warm sunny day.

A lovely one, both picture-wise and word-wise, for the cat loving child.

(disclaimer: review copy received from the publisher)

For more poetry, please visit the Poetry Friday Roundup at Seven Impossible Things Before Breakfast!

The Horses, by Edward Muir -- a poem that fans of post-apocalyptic fiction, in particular, should like lots

I don't often post straight poems, but this one I found recently is so very much on topic viz science fiction/fantasy that I wanted to share it. Also I liked it. It's by Edwin Muir (1887 – 1959), a poet from the Orkney Islands.

The Horses

Barely a twelvemonth after
The seven days war that put the world to sleep,
Late in the evening the strange horses came.
By then we had made our covenant with silence,
But in the first few days it was so still
We listened to our breathing and were afraid.
On the second day
The radios failed; we turned the knobs; no answer.
On the third day a warship passed us, heading north,
Dead bodies piled on the deck. On the sixth day
A plane plunged over us into the sea. Thereafter
Nothing. The radios dumb;
And still they stand in corners of our kitchens,
And stand, perhaps, turned on, in a million rooms
All over the world.

read the rest here

For more poetry, visit today's Poetry Friday Round-up at Some Novel Ideas!

The Wonder Book, by Amy Krouse Rosenthal

The Wonder Book, by Amy Krouse Rosenthal, illustrated by Paul Schmid (Harper Collins, 2010, 79pp), is a feast of poetry, puns, short story-lets, and assorted humorous snippets for kids and whatever grownup might be reading aloud.

We meet Mary Mac's friends, including

"Miss Mary Mellow Mellow Mellow
All dressed in yellow yellow yellow
Slept till noon noon noon
And then ate Jell-O Jell-O Jell-O" (page 20)


There are lots of puns:

From "Word Play (in Four Acts)"

The bicycle couldn't stand alone
(it was two tired)

The TV couldn't sleep
(it was too wired)

Read the book for Acts 3 and 4!

Lots of funny black and white line drawings, palindromes, advice for the young on such crucial topics as cookie pilfering, and many other assorted divertissements. You can see a number of the illustrations for yourself at this interview with Paul Schmid at Seven Impossible Things--I'm especially glad the twisted version of This Little Piggie is shown in its entirety.

I myself found the Index especially satisfying. "yes" appears on pages 12-13,16, and 44. hee hee.

It's a lovely book to have on the coffee table in the living room, for one's nine-year old to dip into at random and chuckle over; it's a fun book to read to your six-year old (those, coincidentally, being the ages of my own boys).

Here's another review, at A Year of Reading.

This is my contribution to Poetry Friday, hosted today by Becky at Becky's Book Reviews

(disclaimer: review copy received from the publisher)

Three fun picture books in verse

Just for fun, and a change of pace, here are three rhyming picture books in honor of Poetry Friday (a weekly roundup of poetry related posts, hosted today by Wild Rose Reader). All three passed my fairly critical test for rhyming stories--reading them aloud, I didn't feel the need to change any of the words in order to make things scan better!

Cool Dog, School Dog, by Deborah Heiligman, illustrated by Tim Bowers (Marshall Cavendish, 2009). "Tinka is a fun dog, a sun dog, a run-and-run-and-run dog." But when her boy goes off to school, leaving her behind, there is much sadness. There only one thing to do--head off for school herself! Now "Tinka is a cool dog, a school dog, a breaking-all-the-rules dog." Crash down the halls she runs, breaking into her boy's classroom. But even though she's going to have to go home soon, the kids have a great time reading to her, and want her to come back again! The verse gives energy and verve to the charming story--it's a lot of fun!

The Busy Tree, by Jennifer Ward, illustrated by Lisa Falkenstern (Marshall Cavendish, 2009) is more peaceful. It is a gently instructive story, told by an old oak tree--"I'm a tree, a busy tree...come and see." And, indeed, in the world of the tree all manner of things are happening. For instance, "Here is my trunk, where busy ants scurry, searching for food as they march in a hurry." And another example--"Hear my green leaves as they shake in the wind, breathing out air for all to breathe in." The verse gives impetus and interest to the descriptions of the world of the tree. Highly recommended for the nature loving, squirrel-fond child (like my six-year old, who does not want me to pass this one on to the library).

And finally, Swamp Song, by Helen Ketteman, illustrated by Ponder Goembel (Marshall Cavendish, 2009). This is a swingingly fun, toe-tapping extravaganza of swamp critters letting loose.


Ibis stands
at the cattail hedge.
flappin' her wings
at the water's edge.

With a flip, flap, flippity-flap
FLIP, FLAP, FLAP.

Within the verses are nestled instructional nuggets, telling of life in the swamp:

Black Bear claws
at a cypress tree,
markin' his space
for all to see.

With a scritch, scratch, scritchity-scratch.
SCRITCH, SCRATCH, SCRATCH.

And the dressed-up animals (so perhaps this does count as fantasy?) all join together at the end for a burst of swampy song. Fun, and educational to boot!

(disclosure: all three books were received as review copies from Marshall Cavendish)

Button Up! Wrinkled Ryhmes

Button Up!: Wrinkled Rhymes, by Alice Schertle, illustrated by Petra Mathers (Harcourt 2009) came my way recently when I was lucky enough to win a copy from Tricia at The Miss Rumphius Effect. This is an utterly delightful book of poems about clothes, from shoelaces to jammies to sweaters and more! All the items of clothing (sparkling characters, one and all) are worn by small animals (of equal charm).

Here's the first verse of one of my favorites:

"Emily's Undies"

We're Emily's undies
with laces and bow.
Emily shows us
wherever she goes.
She doesn't wear diapers,
not even to bed.
Now she wears undies
with ruffles instead.

(the second verse is even better).

Here's another favorite first verse, from "Jennifer's Shoes:"

We are Jennifer's shoes.
We came home in a box.
Now we go walking
when Jennifer walks.
When Jennifer walks,
we step out too-
one of Jennifer's feet
per shoe.

Gosh, I would like to keep going--these poems are so fun! The pictures are so engaging (Jennifer is a small mole child, Emily a mouse).

Thanks, Tricia, for this lovely book! (And if you visit her post here, you can read "Tanya's Old T-Shirt." Perhaps the best poem about an old T-shirt ever written for children!!!

Poetry Friday is hosted today by Picture Book of the Day.

Guest, by Rabindranath Tagore, for Poetry Friday

Guest, by Rabindranath Tagore

Lady, you have filled these exile days of mine
With sweetness, made a foreign traveler your own
As easily as these unfamiliar stars, quietly,
Coolly smiling from heaven, have likewise given me
Welcome. When I stood at this window and stared
At the southern sky, a message seemed to slide
Into my soul from the harmony of the stars,
A solemn music that said, "We know you are ours-
Guest of our light from the day you passed
From darkness into the world, always our guest."

Lady, your kindness is a star, the same solemn tune
In your glance seems to say, "I know you are mine."
I do not know your language, but I hear your melody:
"Poet, guest of my love, my guest eternally."

From Selected Poems, Translated by William Radice (Penguin Classics, 2005)

I haven't been a Poetry Friday contributor for a while, but this poem seemed to me so lovely a place to dream of, like a good book, that I couldn't resist.

(But here is the dark truth behind my choice of this lovely poem-- I have placed myself in the hands of the poetry gods. Every Friday I have been typing "random poem" into google and this is the first one I have fallen for....)

The Poetry Friday roundup this week is at The Miss Rumphius Effect.

mice thoughts, for poetry friday

We live in an old house with porous borders, and have an inadequate cat. So as the weather has gotten colder, the number of mice with whom we share our house has grown. We recently Took Steps, and bought a humane trap, which is working. Now our lives are even more full and rewarding, as we drive car-loads of mice around looking for places far away where we can dump them (late one night, the police followed my husband as he turned into an abandoned parking lot, and demanded to know what sinister errand had brought him there..."Oh, just disposing of mice, Officer!")

And so I have been thinking of this most famous of mouse poems, by Robert Burns (coupled awkwardly, thanks to stupid old blogger, with my own thoughts)






The Poetry Friday Round Up is at Mommy's Favorite Children's Books.

I Know an Old Teacher, by Anne Bowen

For Poetry Friday today, I have I know an Old Teacher, by Anne Bowen, illustrated by Stephen Gammell (2008, Carolrhoda Books), which arrived today from the publisher (thanks).

All right, I'm stretching things a bit to write about this book in a Poetry Friday post. It's actually a cumulative story (you know, the old lady who swallowed a fly deal). But heck, there are rhymes.

"I know an old teacher who swallowed a flea.
It fell from her hair and plopped into her tea."

And things progress--a spider, a fish, a rat, a snake...one by one, all the class pets make their way down Miss Bindley's throat, while her students outside watch through the windows in horror. Will one of them be next!!???!!!

This is gruesome stuff, but the yuck factor might well appeal to the strong-stomached child. I myself like the horrified asides of the children best!

"She's GOT our Lizzie."
"She can't have Lizzie!"
"Well, she's GOT her!"
"Going, going..."
"Gone."
"Poor Lizzie."

The illustrations are colorfully frenetic distortions of reality-- a great accompaniment to the story!

I am writing this at my local library, where it is Game Day (speaking of frenetic). I have just passed the book on to a random nine year old boy, who has his nose in it.....time passes...."Here you go," he says, giving it back. "Funny!"

Poetry Friday is at Author Amok today.

Fir-Flower Tablets for Poetry Friday

Today was decidedly mixed. On the plus side, I got the sewer bill paid, and some other small but pressing business of that sort attended to. Also on the positive side, the library at Brown University had a book sale, and my husband and I filled a box with treasures. I, for instance, found a book called Librarians are Human, by Margaret Bingham Stillwell, subtitled "Memories In and Out of the Rare-Book World 1907-1970" that looks rather fascinating. I also got a $25 parking ticket, because I was so excited at the site of all the books that I couldn't be bothered to put a wretched quarter in the wretched meter.

However, I did find a book for Poetry Friday. It's Fir-Flower Tablets, a book of poems translated from the Chinese by Florence Ayscough, re-worked as poems by Amy Lowell, a favorite poet of mine (Houghton Mifflen, 1921). There are many beautiful poems here, and it is hard to choose which to share. These are a few that caught my eye at first glance.

Song of the Snapped Willow

written during the Liang Dynasty

When he mounted his horse, he did not take his leather riding-whip;
He pulled down and snapped off the branch of a willow tree.
When he dismounted, he blew into his horizontal flute,
And it was as though the fierce grief of his departure
would destroy the traveller.

Autumn River Song on the Broad Beach

by Li T'ai-po

In the clear green water -- the shimmering moon.
In the moonlight -- white herons flying.
A young man hears a girl plucking water-chestnuts;
They paddle home together through the night, singing.

and another by Li T'ai Po, A Song of the Rest-House of Deep Trouble

At Chin Ling, the tavern where travellers part is called the
Rest-House of Deep Trouble.
The creeping grass spreads far, far, from the roadside where it started.
There is no end to the ancient sorrow, as water flows to the East.
Grief is in the wind of this place, burning grief in the white aspen.
Like K'ang Lo I climb on board the dull travelling boat.
I hum softly, "On the Clear Streams Flies the Night Frost."
It is said that, long ago, on the Ox Island Hill, songs were
sung which blended the five colours.
Now do I not equal Hsich, and the youth of the House of Yiian?
The bitter bamboos make a cold sound, swaying in the Autumn Moonlight.
I pass the night alone, desolate behind the reed blinds, and
dream of returning to my distant home.

I don't know what it means that "songs were sung which blended the five colours," but it sounds like the stuff of which dreams are made.

The Poetry Friday Roundup is at Wild Rose Reader today.

NB: the poems in the book are laid out slightly differently from the way they appear here, and I'm sorry about that but blogger will not let me do it properly. grrr. However, this book is available on line if you want to see the real thing....

Welcome to Poetry Friday!

Welcome to Poetry Friday! Please leave a link in the comments, and as the day progresses (the dropping off of children at school--hooray! the removal of 200 moldy boxes of artifacts from their condemned home in an old house at Rhode Island College into Department of Transportation dump trucks -sigh, a bit of peaceful time at work, back to get boys, and home again, or possibly to the library if the computer has decided to hate blogger again) I shall add the links.

Here's the poem I've chosen-- The Highwayman, by Alfred Noyes (1880-1958). It's an old chestnut that I remember my mother reading to me when I was little, and which I read recently to my boys who listened wide-eyed. I think would make a truly splendid picture book...UPDATE! One of today's contributors, Slyvia from Poetry for Children, has just let me know that it "HAS been issued in picture book form by Oxford U, illustrated by Charles Keeping, and in the VISIONS IN POETRY series in a film noir-ish interpretation of a biker in NYC." Somehow I find the former more appealling.

PART ONE

I

THE wind was a torrent of darkness among the gusty trees,
The moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas,
The road was a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor,
And the highwayman came riding—
Riding—riding—
The highwayman came riding, up to the old inn-door.

II

He'd a French cocked-hat on his forehead, a bunch of lace at his chin,
A coat of the claret velvet, and breeches of brown doe-skin;
They fitted with never a wrinkle: his boots were up to the thigh!
And he rode with a jewelled twinkle,
His pistol butts a-twinkle,
His rapier hilt a-twinkle, under the jewelled sky.

III

Over the cobbles he clattered and clashed in the dark inn-yard,
And he tapped with his whip on the shutters, but all was locked and barred;
He whistled a tune to the window, and who should be waiting there
But the landlord's black-eyed daughter,
Bess, the landlord's daughter,
Plaiting a dark red love-knot into her long black hair.

IV

And dark in the dark old inn-yard a stable-wicket creaked
Where Tim the ostler listened; his face was white and peaked;
His eyes were hollows of madness, his hair like mouldy hay,
But he loved the landlord's daughter,
The landlord's red-lipped daughter,
Dumb as a dog he listened, and he heard the robber say—

V

"One kiss, my bonny sweetheart, I'm after a prize to-night,
But I shall be back with the yellow gold before the morning light;
Yet, if they press me sharply, and harry me through the day,
Then look for me by moonlight,
Watch for me by moonlight,
I'll come to thee by moonlight, though hell should bar the way."

VI

He rose upright in the stirrups; he scarce could reach her hand,
But she loosened her hair i' the casement! His face burnt like a brand
As the black cascade of perfume came tumbling over his breast;
And he kissed its waves in the moonlight,
(Oh, sweet, black waves in the moonlight!)
Then he tugged at his rein in the moonlight, and galloped away to the West.

The thrilling conclusion (and it is thrilling) can be found here.

So again, welcome, and I look forward to reading your poems!

Links:

John Mutford, over at The Book Mine Set, is in with a look at Jailbreaks, an anthology of Canadian sonnets edited by Zachariah Wells.

Julie Larios at The Drift Record is in with two poems by Richard Wilbur, one for grown ups and one from his book Opposites and More Opposites, and then crowns her post with an original poem of her own.

Little Willow is in with Hamlet's letter to Ophelia --Never Doubt I Love. She should not go to the Scholar's Blog, where more Hamlet is featured, unless she wants to experience the joy of getting to see David Tennant vicariously.

Sarah at In Need of Chocolate is in with a lovely butterfly poem.

At Just One More Book, Andrea looks at Ocean Wide, Ocean Deep, by Susan Lendroth.

In honor of Labor Day, Mary Lee at A Year of Reading offers It Couldn't Be Done, by Edgar Guest, and Stacey at Two Writing Teachers offers an acrostic by Nicholas Gordon. I am also putting the two poems of Louisa May Alcott, posted at the Write Sisters, here...the first one is especially relevant (and made me grit my teeth a tad).

Cloudscome, at A Wrung Sponge, has a doozy of a poem about starting school, Lisa at A Little of This a Little of That shares the poem that will be on her students' desks on Tuesday, and Elaine at Wild Rose Reader has a back to school poetry book that looks like a great one to check out this time of year.

I for one am very glad school has started because my boys were getting very tired of each other's exclusive company toward the end there... and I was getting tired of the predictable results. Somehow my gentle dove like murmurings about violence not being the answer had no effect. But anyway, Yat-Yee Chong shares a poem on siblings by Naomi Shihab Nye that I look forward to reading.

Appropriate for the school starting season (I just spent an hour at the school playground, meeting new parents) is Msmac's original poem inspired by the prompt-- "I come from..." And there is also an original back to school poem from Gregory K. at GottaBook.

Elaine also has three lovely poems for the end of summer at Blue Rose Girls (at least, I assume they are lovely because Elaine likes them but goodness knows I have not yet had a chance to read anything I'm linking too...that is a pleasure all the sweeter for being deferred, or maybe not). On the same theme, Tricia of The Miss Rumphius Effect shares Farewell To Summer, by George Arnold, and Rebecca at A Gypsy Caravan shares another by Rowena Bennett. At the Three Legged Dragon, Tabitha visits some Scottish poetry, and I'm putting the poem she shares (Fern by Liz Nevin) in this category too, because I think it is metaphorically applicable.

On the other hand, Becky at Farm School is clinging to summer, with Wild Bees, by John Clare (never heard of him--there are a lot of new ones for me today).

Laura Salas is keeping me company on the other side of the law with a poem about pirates, "Cat-o'-Nine-Tails," and some15 Words or Less poems.

Sara at Read Write Believe posts about finding lost poems, which has just become easier, and shares a link to the apropos poem, One Art, by Elizabeth Bishop.

Susan over at Chicken Spaghetti has a link to very interesting looking article that's up at the Poetry Foundation, and Karen Edmisten also links to it, and not to take away from their blog stats but here is the direct link because it does look, as I said, very interesting.

And here's one that I did take the time to read, and am glad I did--Wild Geese, by Mary Oliver, over at On the Learn.

Two participants today reference Obama-- Janet at Writer2be is in with some Langston Hughes, and Sylvia at Poetry for Children has an excerpt from I am the Bridge, by Carole Boston Weatherford. In a patriotic mood, Kelly Fineman has some of Walt Whitman's America (I love it). And I guess this goes in this section--a rat's version of America the Beautiful, from Emmy and the Incredible Shrinking Rat, brought to us by Becky's Book Reviews.

At Semicolon, Sherry is in with an English translation of a stirring 4th-century hymn. Barbara at Stray Thoughts shares a poem by John Donne.

Eisha at Seven Impossible Things Before Breakfast has a bit of Sappho (I knew there were issues with the survival of her poems, but didn't know we had only one complete example).

Anastasia at Picture Book of the Day is in with a look at Sputter Sputter Sput, by Babs Bell (looks like fun). Also reviewing a book is Kelly at Big A little A--Our California, which looks lovely (although the title, to an East Coaster like me who has never been to CA, makes me suspicious--is the "our" including or excluding me?).

At Finding Wonderland, you can enjoy The Microbe, by Hilaire Belloc (which I had never read--I love those last two lines!), or you can appreciate (though not enjoy) a poem from China posted at Biblio File.

Pause, during which, among other things, we troop down to the end of the street, along with all our neighbors, to watch one of the mill buildings at the end of the street burn. Much smoke, no fire. I hope no firefighters get hurt.

Ruth at There is no such thing as a Godforsaken Town, has an Emily Dickinson poem that's new to her (and to me)--Surgeons must be very careful.

Liz in Ink shares Robert Louis Stevenson's poem, Now When the Number of My Years, and Em at Em's Bookshelf also is in with RLS- The Land of Story-books. It's Em's first P.F. post--welcome!

Suzanne, at Adventures in Daily Living, is in with the lyrics to I Saw My Youth Today, by Richard Shindell.

At Paper Tigers, there's a link to a lovely essay Aline wrote--Waking up on the Right Side of the Poetry Bed.

And finally, with The Answer to the Puzzle, is Miss Erin!

Thank you all for coming to Poetry Friday! I am looking forward to going back and reading in depth what I just skimmed. If I messed up your link, misspelled your name, or grossly mis-categorized your offering, please let me know (charlotteslibrary@gmail.com). If you notice any egregious typos, errors of grammar or style, or simply disagree with my choice of words, you can let me know that too.

To Be Like the Sun

All around our bird feeder and beyond sunflowers grow; I've learned to recognize the babies and, within reason, I let them be when I weed. This is peak sunflower time--in a few weeks, most of the stems will have been broken by greedy chipmunks and squirrels.

To Be Like the Sun, by Susan Marie Swanson, illustrated by Margaret Chodos-Irvine (Harcourt, 2008), is a beautiful sunflower picture book. "Hello, little seed, striped gray seed. Do you really know everything about sunflowers?" a little girl asks on the first page. And the seed does, growing up to the sun until summer passes. When winter comes, the little girl holds her flower's seeds:

"and a sunflower seed
is smaller than a word,
but I remember:
you were taller than everyone."

Lovely poetry, I think, and indeed part of the text began life as a poem published in Swanson's collection Getting used to the Dark: 26 Night Poems (1997). In expanded form, it still reads like a prose poem. Indeed, it is the most pleasant book about seeds to read out loud I've yet encountered. With many books, I change the text as I read--but not the ones like this, that don't need any fixing. The illustrations are pattern and texture rich, large pictures that make the book a good one for reading out loud to a group.

Here at Cynsations is a great interview with Susan Marie Swanson from last April, when this book came out. And here's another review, at Pink Me.

The Poetry Friday Roundup is at Big A little a today.

A bit of Seo Jeong-ju for Poetry Friday

Today I am offering a bit of the poetry of the great 20th century Korean poet, Seo Jeong-ju, which I found here.

Here's a poem for all of us who have ever swung and swung and swung as children (or grown ups, some of us), or watched the toes of our children reach for the sky as we pushed them away from ourselves and well past our comfort zones...

Complaint from a swing

- Chun-hyang's first monologue

Push hard on the cords of the swing, Hyang-dan,
as if you were launching a boat
out toward distant seas,
Hyang-dan!

as if you were pushing me off for ever
away from this gently rocking willow tree,
these wild flowers like those embroidered on my pillow,
away from these tiny butterflies, these warblers,
Hyang-dan!

For the rest, you'll have to go to the website, where it is a few poems down....

And for more poems, the Poetry Friday Roundup is at Becky's Book Reviews today!

"Sheltered Garden" by H. D. for the first Poetry Friday of August

SHELTERED GARDEN

I have had enough.
I gasp for breath.

Every way ends, every road,
every foot-path leads at last
to the hill-crest—
then you retrace your steps,
or find the same slope on the other side,
precipitate.

I have had enough—
border-pinks, clove-pinks, wax-lilies,
herbs, sweet-cress.

O for some sharp swish of a branch—
there is no scent of resin
in this place,
no taste of bark, of coarse weeds,
aromatic, astringent—
only border on border of scented pinks.

Have you seen fruit under cover
that wanted light—
pears wadded in cloth,
protected from the frost,
melons, almost ripe,
smothered in straw?

Why not let the pears cling
to the empty branch?
All your coaxing will only make
a bitter fruit—
let them cling, ripen of themselves,
test their own worth,
nipped, shrivelled by the frost,
to fall at last but fair
With a russet coat.

Or the melon—
let it bleach yellow
in the winter light,
even tart to the taste—
it is better to taste of frost—
the exquisite frost—
than of wadding and of dead grass.

For this beauty,
beauty without strength,
chokes out life.
I want wind to break,
scatter these pink-stalks,
snap off their spiced heads,
fling them about with dead leaves—
spread the paths with twigs,
limbs broken off,
trail great pine branches,
hurled from some far wood
right across the melon-patch,
break pear and quince—
leave half-trees, torn, twisted
but showing the fight was valiant.

O to blot out this garden
to forget, to find a new beauty
in some terrible
wind-tortured place.

H.D. (Hilda Doolittle--Sea Garden, 1916)

I am, as always happens this time of year, leaving in the dust (literally) the love I felt for my garden in May and June. In July, I try to make the relationship work, but by August it's clear that it is not going to. In September and October, we part as friends, spend the winter re-charging, and do it all over again the next year...

The Poetry Friday Roundup is here at The Well-Read Child today!