POEM-IN-YOUR-POCKET

          Happy National "Put a Poem-in-your-Pocket" Day! It's a day set aside to carry your favorite poem around and share it with someone.  I spent the past week trying to come up with Poetry-like displays and activities for this event that would amuse 7th and 8th graders.  I'm not so sure this display knocks anyone's socks off, but I had a great time going through favorite poems and displaying them all over the bulletin board.

          So to commemorate this poetic day, I'll leave you with the only poems I have completely memorized from my youth.  Sadly, there aren't many.  You would think that after all the Poetry classes I've taken or taught, that more would have stuck.  But for those who know me, every single one of these poems holds some sweet memory which of course I had to include.

          If you feel so inclined, I'd love to hear any poem from your youth that remains lodged in your memory.  Maybe your 3rd grade teacher made you memorize it.  Maybe you were a 7th grade poet who loved to write about true love.  Maybe you were the moody high school poet who liked to wear black. Or maybe it took going to college and reading Sylvia Plath to get you hooked on a poem.
I don't know your story, but I'd love to hear it.

        Have a wonderful, poetically-inspired weekend!


THUMBSUCKER
Oh, the thumbsuckers thumb
may look wrinkled and wet
and withered and white as snow.
But the taste of the thumb,
is the greatest taste yet.
As only we thumbsuckers would know.
                     - Shel Silverstein

(This is the first poem I ever memorized. I won't share with you how very, very long I was a thumbsucker.)
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TREE HOUSE
A Tree House, a free house
a secret you and me house
A high above the leafy branches
Cozy as can be house.

A street house, a neat house
Be sure and wipe your feet house.
That's not my kind of house at all,
Let's go live in a tree house.
                         - Shel Silverstein

(Another one I memorized early.  I've forgotten how much I loved sitting outside looking at our huge oak tree in the backyard.  I need to share this one with Lydia - she's a kindred spirit.)
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NOTHING GOLD CAN STAY

Nature's first green is gold
Her hardest hue to hold
Her early leaf's a flower
but only so an hour
As leaf subsides to leaf
so Eden sank to grief
As dawn goes down to day
Nothing gold can stay.
                      - Robert Frost
(Think:  Ponyboy.)
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SO MUCH DEPENDS

So much
depends
upon
a red wheelbarrow
glazed
with rain water
beside the
white chicken.
                      - William Carlos Williams

(Still don't understand this one but we had a great time discussing it in college.)