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Archive for the ‘Poetry Friday’ Category

Preposition Parade

Posted in Poetry, Poetry Friday, Teaching, tagged , on December 7, 2012| 6 Comments »

Thanks to Robyn Hood Black for hosting Poetry Friday today.

Thanks to Robyn Hood Black for hosting Poetry Friday today.

Prepositions were on parade in my class this week. We brainstormed a list of prepositions. The list grew to 50 words. Wow! Who knew there were so many?

Students wrote poems in which each line began with a preposition. To help our readers along, we decided the title should give a clue to the theme. Students experienced through practice how to use prepositions, and it was fun.

Mother Nature

From the high branch
of that cypress tree
beyond the flowing bayou
near a wading heron
through the slightest breeze
toward my longing heart
upon this lonely landscape
for eternity.
—Margaret Simon, all rights reserved.

My Rainbow

under the setting sun
across the ocean
with rays of light
through the oak trees
over the valleys
to the depths of the bayou
through my heart.
—Emily, 2nd grade

Louisiana

Through the tallest sugarcane
on the fastest feet
over the wettest mud
with the newest creatures
until I am at home
—Brooklyn, 5th grade

The Innocent Mouse

in the classroom
nearby kids on top of their desks
inside the cabinet, scratching
out he comes
across the room
beyond the bathroom
under the desks
as the kids try to escape
from the tragedy
except he only wanted paper
—Keana, 6th grade

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Pointillist

Posted in Poetry, Poetry Friday, tagged , on November 30, 2012| 6 Comments »

Poetry Friday is hosted today by Amy at The Poem Farm.

My father, John Gibson, created this drawing using pointillism. He creates a different image each Christmas for my parents’ Holiday greeting card.

The Pointillist

Patiently sitting at the drawing table,
he taps the paper as if strumming an instrument.
The music he creates comes forth
not in lines and shapes, but in shades
of dark and light.

This artist does not draw or paint.
He plays the dots, drumming them out
point by point.
What emerges is nothing short of miraculous,
like the first moving pixel on the television screen.

I marvel at the realism.
I could reach out and touch the cow.
The bed of straw even smells like a barn.
He places me there, at the birth scene,
waiting with Mary.

–Margaret Simon

The Pointillist is an ekphrastic poem, a poem about art. More about this style of poetry can be found at Poets.org.

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