Love's Exquisite Freedom (Monday Poem)

by Maya Angelou 

We, unaccustomed to courage

exiles from delight

live coiled in shells of loneliness

until love leaves its high holy temple

and comes into our sight

to liberate us into life.

 

Love arrives

and in its train come ecstasies

old memories of pleasure

ancient histories of pain.

Yet if we are bold,

love strikes away the chains of fear

from our souls.

 

We are weaned from our timidity

In the flush of love's light

we dare be brave

And suddenly we see

that love costs all we are

and will ever be.

Yet it is only love

which sets us free.

 

 

 

from Welcome Books, 2011

illustrated by Edward Burne-Jones 

 

 

Making the House Ready for the Lord (Monday Poem)

by Mary Oliver

 

 

Dear Lord, I have swept and I have washed but
still nothing is as shining as it should be
for you. Under the sink, for example, is an
uproar of mice — it is the season of their
many children. What shall I do? And under the eaves
and through the walls the squirrels
have gnawed their ragged entrances — but it is the season
when they need shelter, so what shall I do? And
the raccoon limps into the kitchen and opens the cupboard
while the dog snores, the cat hugs the pillow;
what shall I do? Beautiful is the new snow falling
in the yard and the fox who is staring boldly
up the path, to the door. And still I believe you will
come, Lord: you will, when I speak to the fox,
the sparrow, the lost dog, the shivering sea-goose, know
that really, I am speaking to you whenever I say,
as I do all morning and afternoon: Come in, Come in.

 

 

from Thirst: Poems by Mary Oliver 

Beacon Press, 2006

 

A Brave and Startling Truth (Monday Poem)

 by Maya Angelou

 

We, this people, on a small and lonely planet
Traveling through casual space
Past aloof stars, across the way of indifferent suns
To a destination where all signs tell us
It is possible and imperative that we learn
A brave and startling truth

And when we come to it
To the day of peacemaking
When we release our fingers
From fists of hostility
And allow the pure air to cool our palms

When we come to it
When the curtain falls on the minstrel show of hate
And faces sooted with scorn are scrubbed clean
When battlefields and coliseum
No longer rake our unique and particular sons and daughters
Up with the bruised and bloody grass
To lie in identical plots in foreign soil

When the rapacious storming of the churches
The screaming racket in the temples have ceased
When the pennants are waving gaily
When the banners of the world tremble
Stoutly in the good, clean breeze

When we come to it
When we let the rifles fall from our shoulders
And children dress their dolls in flags of truce
When land mines of death have been removed
And the aged can walk into evenings of peace
When religious ritual is not perfumed
By the incense of burning flesh
And childhood dreams are not kicked awake
By nightmares of abuse

When we come to it
Then we will confess that not the Pyramids
With their stones set in mysterious perfection
Nor the Gardens of Babylon
Hanging as eternal beauty
In our collective memory
Not the Grand Canyon
Kindled into delicious color
By Western sunsets

Nor the Danube, flowing its blue soul into Europe
Not the sacred peak of Mount Fuji
Stretching to the Rising Sun
Neither Father Amazon nor Mother Mississippi who, without favor,
Nurture all creatures in the depths and on the shores
These are not the only wonders of the world

When we come to it
We, this people, on this minuscule and kithless globe
Who reach daily for the bomb, the blade and the dagger
Yet who petition in the dark for tokens of peace
We, this people on this mote of matter
In whose mouths abide cankerous words
Which challenge our very existence
Yet out of those same mouths
Come songs of such exquisite sweetness
That the heart falters in its labor
And the body is quieted into awe

We, this people, on this small and drifting planet
Whose hands can strike with such abandon
That in a twinkling, life is sapped from the living
Yet those same hands can touch with such healing, irresistible tenderness
That the haughty neck is happy to bow
And the proud back is glad to bend
Out of such chaos, of such contradiction
We learn that we are neither devils nor divines

When we come to it
We, this people, on this wayward, floating body
Created on this earth, of this earth
Have the power to fashion for this earth
A climate where every man and every woman
Can live freely without sanctimonious piety
Without crippling fear

When we come to it

We must confess that we are the possible

We are the miraculous, the true wonder of this world  

That is when, and only when 

We come to it.

 

 

 

from Maya Angelou: The Complete Poetry

Random House, 2015 

 

 

 

Amazing Peace: A Christmas Poem (Monday Poem)

by Maya Angelou

 

  

Thunder rumbles in the mountain passes
And lightning rattles the eaves of our houses.
Flood waters await us in our avenues.

Snow falls upon snow, falls upon snow to avalanche
Over unprotected villages.
The sky slips low and grey and threatening.

We question ourselves.
What have we done to so affront nature?
We worry God.
Are you there? Are you there really?
Does the covenant you made with us still hold?

Into this climate of fear and apprehension, Christmas enters,
Streaming lights of joy, ringing bells of hope
And singing carols of forgiveness high up in the bright air.
The world is encouraged to come away from rancor,
Come the way of friendship.

It is the Glad Season.
Thunder ebbs to silence and lightning sleeps quietly in the corner.
Flood waters recede into memory.
Snow becomes a yielding cushion to aid us
As we make our way to higher ground.

Hope is born again in the faces of children
It rides on the shoulders of our aged as they walk into their sunsets.
Hope spreads around the earth. Brightening all things,
Even hate which crouches breeding in dark corridors.

In our joy, we think we hear a whisper.
At first it is too soft. Then only half heard.
We listen carefully as it gathers strength.
We hear a sweetness.
The word is Peace.
It is loud now. It is louder.
Louder than the explosion of bombs.

We tremble at the sound. We are thrilled by its presence.
It is what we have hungered for.
Not just the absence of war. But, true Peace.
A harmony of spirit, a comfort of courtesies.
Security for our beloveds and their beloveds.

We clap hands and welcome the Peace of Christmas.
We beckon this good season to wait a while with us.
We, Baptist and Buddhist, Methodist and Muslim, say come.
Peace.
Come and fill us and our world with your majesty.
We, the Jew and the Jainist, the Catholic and the Confucian,
Implore you, to stay a while with us.
So we may learn by your shimmering light
How to look beyond complexion and see community.

It is Christmas time, a halting of hate time.

On this platform of peace, we can create a language
To translate ourselves to ourselves and to each other.

At this Holy Instant, we celebrate the Birth of Jesus Christ
Into the great religions of the world.
We jubilate the precious advent of trust.
We shout with glorious tongues at the coming of hope.
All the earth's tribes loosen their voices
To celebrate the promise of Peace.

We, Angels and Mortal's, Believers and Non-Believers,
Look heavenward and speak the word aloud.
Peace. We look at our world and speak the word aloud.
Peace. We look at each other, then into ourselves
And we say without shyness or apology or hesitation.

Peace, My Brother.
Peace, My Sister.
Peace, My Soul.

 

 

 

from Amazing Peace: A Christmas Poem by Maya Angelou

illustrated by Steve Johnson and Lou Fancher

ebook, Schwartz & Wade, 2010

 

Snowbirds (Monday Poem)

by Lin Ling

 

 

A pure white feather floats down.

Oh, at that moment

We both hope that happiness

May also be like a white bird,

Quietly descending.

 

 

 

from Seasons

by Warabe Aska

Doubleday, 1990

 

 

 

Trouble, Fly (Monday Poem)

 by Susan Marie Swanson

Trouble, fly

out of our house.

We left the window

open for you.

 

Fly like smoke from a chimney.

Fly like the whistle from a train.

Fly far, far

away from my family,

mumbling in their sleep.

 

Trouble, fly.

Let our night

be a night of peace.

 

 

 

from This Place I Know: Poems of Comfort

selected by Georgia Heard

Candlewick Press, 2002 

 

Mouse (Monday Poem)

by Jack Prelutsky

 

 

If not for the cat

And the scarcity of cheese

I could be content.

 

 

 

from If Not For the Cat 

Haiku by Jack Prelutsky

HarperCollins, 2004

  

Commitment in a City (Monday Poem)

 by Margaret Tsuda

 

 

On the street we two pass,

I do not know you.

I did not see

if you are --

fat/thin,

dark/fair

young/old.

 

If we should pass again

within the hour,

I would not know it.

Yet --

I am committed to 

love you.

 

You are part of my city,

my universe, my being.

If you were not her

to pass me by,

a piece would be missing

from my jigsaw-puzzle day.

 

 

 

from This Place I Know: Poems of Comfort

selected by Georgia Heard

Candlewick Press, 2002 

 

Prayer to the Moon (Monday Poem)

by Anonymous (Ethiopia)

 

 

May you be for us a moon of joy and happiness.

Let the stranger come to the end of his journey.

And those who remain at home dwell safely in their houses . . . .

May you be a moon of harvest and of calves.

May you be a moon of restoration and good health.

 

 

 

from Seasons

by Warabe Aska

Doubleday, 1990 

 

 

 

Froth and Bubble (Monday Poem)

 by A. L. Gordon

 

 

Life is mostly froth and bubble,

Two things stand like stone;

Kindness in another's trouble,

Courage in your own.

 

 

 

from This Place I Know: Poems of Comfort

selected by Georgia Heard

Candlewick Press, 2002 

 

 

 

 

Ring Around the World (Monday Poem)

 by Annette Wynne

 

 

Ring around the world

Taking hands together

All across the temperate

And the torrid weather.

Past the royal palm trees

By the ocean sand

Make a ring around the world

Taking each other's hand;

In the valleys, on the hill,

Over the prairie spaces,

There's a ring around the world

Made of children's friendly faces.

 

 

 

 

from This Place I Know: Poems of Comfort

selected by Georgia Heard

Candlewick Press, 2002 

 

 

 

Hold Fast Your Dreams (Monday Poem)

by Louise Driscoll 

 

Within your heart

Keep one still, secret spot

Where dreams may go,

And sheltered so,

May thrive and grow --

Where doubt and fear are not.

Oh, keep a place apart

Within your heart,

For little dreams to go.

 

 

from This Place I Know: Poems of Comfort

selected by Georgia Heard

Candlewick Press, 2002 

 

Hurt No Living Thing (Monday Poem)

 by Christina Rossetti

 

 

Hurt no living thing,

Ladybird nor butterfly,

Nor moth with dusty wing,

Nor cricket chirping cheerily,

Nor grasshopper, so light of leap,

Nor dancing gnat,

Nor beetle fat,

Nor harmless worms that creep.

from Sing a Song of Seasons
A Nature Poem for Each Day of the Year
selected by Fiona Waters
illustrated by Frann Preston-Gannon
Candlewick Press, 2018 

Plum (Monday Poem)

 by Tony Mirron

Don't be so glum,

plum.

Don't feel beaten.

You were made

to be eaten.

But don't you know

that deep within,

beneath your juicy flesh

and flimsy skin,

you bear a mystery,

you hold a key,

you have the making of

a whole new tree.

from Sing a Song of Seasons
A Nature Poem for Each Day of the Year
selected by Fiona Waters
illustrated by Frann Preston-Gannon
Candlewick Press, 2018 

Windsong (Monday Poem)

 by Judith Nicholls

I am the seed

that grew the tree

that gave the wood

to make the page

to fill the book

with poetry.

from Sing a Song of Seasons
A Nature Poem for Each Day of the Year
selected by Fiona Waters
illustrated by Frann Preston-Gannon
Candlewick Press, 2018 

To a Red Kite (Monday Poem)

 by Lilian Moore

 

 

Fling

yourself

upon the sky.

 

Take the string

you need.

Ride high

 

high

above the park.

Tug and buck

and lark

with the wind.

 

Touch a cloud,

red kite.

Follow the wild geese

in their flight.

 

 

 

from Sing a Song of Seasons
A Nature Poem for Each Day of the Year
selected by Fiona Waters
illustrated by Frann Preston-Gannon
Candlewick Press, 2018  

The Black Pebble (Monday Poem)

by James Reeves

 

There went three children down to the shore

Down to the shore and back;

There was skipping Susan and bright-eyed Sam

And little scowling Jack.

 

Susan found a white cockle shell,

The prettiest ever seen,

And Sam picked up a piece of glass

Rounded and smooth and green.

 

But Jack found only a plain black pebble

That lay by the rolling sea,

And that was all that ever he found;

So back they went all three.

 

The cockle shell they put on the table,

Thew green glass on the shelf,

But the little black pebble that Jack had found

He kept it for himself.

 

 

 

 

 from Sing a Song of Seasons
A Nature Poem for Each Day of the Year
selected by Fiona Waters
illustrated by Frann Preston-Gannon
Candlewick Press, 2018 

 

The Last Rose of Summer (Monday Poem)

by Thomas More


'Tis the last rose of summer
Left blooming alone;
All her lovely companions
Are faded and gone;
No flower of her kindred,
No rosebud is nigh,
To reflect back her blushes,
To give sigh for sigh.



from Sing a Song of Seasons
A Nature Poem for Each Day of the Year
selected by Fiona Waters
illustrated by Frann Preston-Gannon
Candlewick Press, 2018 

The Mockingbird's Song (Monday Poem)

Tigua song, translated by John Comfort Fillmore


Rain, people, rain!
The rain is all around us.
It is going to come pouring down,
And the summer will be fair to see,
The mockingbird has said so.



from Sing a Song of Seasons
A Nature Poem for Each Day of the Year
selected by Fiona Waters
illustrated by Frann Preston-Gannon
Candlewick Press, 2018 

The Shell (Monday Poem)

by John Foster


On the shelf in my bedroom stands a shell.
If I hold it close, I can smell
The salty sea.
I can hear the slap
Of the waves as they lap
The sandy shore.
I can feel once more
The tickling tide
As it gently flows between my toes.



from Sing a Song of Seasons
A Nature Poem for Each Day of the Year
selected by Fiona Waters
illustrated by Frann Preston-Gannon
Candlewick Press, 2018 

Until I Saw the Sea (Monday Poem)

 by Lilian Moore

Until I saw the sea
I did not know
that wind
could wrinkle water so.

I never knew
that sun
could splinter a whole sea of blue.

Nor
did I know before
a sea breathes in and out
upon a shore.




from Sing a Song of Seasons
A Nature Poem for Each Day of the Year
selected by Fiona Waters
illustrated by Frann Preston-Gannon
Candlewick Press, 2018  

If All the Seas Were One Sea (Monday Poem)

 by Anonymous

If all the seas were one sea,

What a great sea that would be!

If all the trees were one tree,

What a great tree that would be!

And if all the axes were one axe,

What a great axe that would be!

And if all the men were one man,

What a great man that would be!

And if the great man took the great axe

And cut down the great tree,

And let it fall into the great sea,

What a splish-splash that would be!

 

 

from Sing a Song of Seasons
A Nature Poem for Each Day of the Year
selected by Fiona Waters
illustrated by Frann Preston-Gannon
Candlewick Press, 2018  

 

 

The Falling Star (Monday Poem)

by Sara Teasdale

I saw a star slide down the sky,

Blinding the north as it went by,

Too lovely to be bought or sold,

Too burning and too quick to hold,

Good only to make wishes on

And then forever to be gone.

from Sing a Song of Seasons
A Nature Poem for Each Day of the Year
selected by Fiona Waters
illustrated by Frann Preston-Gannon
Candlewick Press, 2018 

Swing Song (Monday Poem)

by A. A. Milne

Here I go up in my swing

Ever so high.

I am the king of the fields, and the King

Of the town.

I am the King of the earth, and the King

Of the sky.

Here I go up in my swing . . .

Now I go down.

from Now We Are Six

by A. A. Milne

Dell, 1970

Solitude (Monday Poem)

by A. A. Milne

I have a house where I go

When there's too many people,

I have a house where I go

Where no one can be;

I have a house where I go,

Where nobody ever says "No";

Where no one says anything--so

There is no one but me.

from Now We Are Six

by A. A. Milne

Dell, 1970

Farewell! Like a Bee (Monday Poem)

by Basho

Farewell! Like a bee

reluctant to leave the deeps

of a peony.

from A Family of Poems: My Favorite Poetry for Children
Selected by Caroline Kennedy
Hyperion, 2005

Do Not Be Ashamed (Monday Poem)

by Wendell Berry

You will be walking some night
in the comfortable dark of your yard
and suddenly a great light will shine
round about you, and behind you
will be a wall you never saw before.
It will be clear to you suddenly
that you were about to escape,
and that you are guilty: you misread
the complex instructions, you are not
a member, you lost your card
or never had one. And you will know
that they have been there all along,
their eyes on your letters and books,
their hands in your pockets,
their ears wired to your bed.
Though you have done nothing shameful,
they will want you to be ashamed.
They will want you to kneel and weep
and say you should have been like them.
And once you say you are ashamed,
reading the page they hold out to you,
then such light as you have made
in your history will leave you.
They will no longer need to pursue you.
You will pursue them, begging forgiveness.
They will not forgive you.
There is no power against them.
It is only candor that is aloof from them,
only an inward clarity, unashamed,
that they cannot reach. Be ready.
When their light has picked you out
and their questions are asked, say to them:
"I am not ashamed." A sure horizon
will come around you. The heron will begin
his evening flight from the hilltop.

http://famouspoetsandpoems.com/poets/wendell_berry/poems/130

Traveling at Home (Monday Poem)

by Wendell Berry

Even in a country you know by heart

it's hard to go the same way twice.

The life of the going changes.

The chances change and make a new way.
 Any tree or stone or bird
 can be the bud of a new direction. The
 natural correction is to make intent
 of accident. To get back before dark

 is the art of going.

http://www.ayearofbeinghere.com/2014/07/wendell-berry-traveling-at-home.html

Woods (Monday Poem)

by Wendell Berry

I part the out thrusting branches
and come in beneath
the blessed and the blessing trees.
Though I am silent
there is singing around me.
Though I am dark
there is vision around me.
Though I am heavy
there is flight around me.



https://www.poemhunter.com/poem/woods-14/
 

Running For Your Life (Monday Poem)

Community Poem collected by Kwame Alexander

What is the color of air?
Who owns the right to breathe?
Why are we so afraid of each other?
When will they come for the brown men I know and love?
What was his crime?
Is there justice for all
In the land of the free?
Or only those who are
White like me?



The first few lines of a community poem collected by @kwamealexander , poet in residence at @npr 

Stay Home (Monday Poem)

by Wendell Berry


I will wait here in the fields
to see how well the rain
brings on the grass.
In the labor of the fields
longer than a man’s life
I am at home. Don’t come with me.
You stay home too.
I will be standing in the woods
where the old trees
move only with the wind
and then with gravity.
In the stillness of the trees
I am at home. Don’t come with me.
You stay home too.



from:
https://luckywords.squarespace.com/episodes/2017/4/28/episode-128-poems-by-robert-frost-and-wendell-berry

Duck's Ditty (Monday Poem)

by Kenneth Grahame


All along the backwater,
Through the rushes tall,
Ducks are a-dabbling,
Up tails all!

Ducks' tails, drakes' tails,
Yellow feet a-quiver,
Yellow bills all out of sight
Busy in the river.

Slushy green undergrowth
Where the roaches swim--
Here we keep our larder,
Cool and full and dim!

Everyone for what he likes!
We like to be
Heads down, tails up,
Dabbling free!

High in the blue above
Swifts whirl and call--
We are down a-dabbling
Up tails all!



from Sing a Song of Seasons
A Nature Poem for Each Day of the Year
selected by Fiona Waters
illustrated by Frann Preston-Gannon
Candlewick Press, 2018 

New Day (Monday Poem)

by Ian McMillan


The day is so new
you can hear it yawning,
listen:

The new day
is yawning
and stretching

and waiting to start.

In the clear blue sky
I hear the new day's heart.



from Sing a Song of Seasons
A Nature Poem for Each Day of the Year
selected by Fiona Waters
illustrated by Frann Preston-Gannon
Candlewick Press, 2018

How Without Arms (Monday Poem)

by JonArno Lawson


How, without arms,
did the sun
climb over the trees?

And without knees
to sinks on,
how did it sink behind them?

And without eyes,
how did it peek
through the leaves?

And without
being wakened,
how did it rise?



from Sing a Song of Seasons
A Nature Poem for Each Day of the Year
selected by Fiona Waters
illustrated by Frann Preston-Gannon
Candlewick Press, 2018 

On May Day (Monday Poem)

Anonymous


On May Day we dance,
On May Day we sing,
For this is the day
That we welcome the spring.



from Sing a Song of Seasons
A Nature Poem for Each Day of the Year
selected by Fiona Waters
illustrated by Frann Preston-Gannon
Candlewick Press, 2018  

The Owl and the Puss-Cat (Monday Poem)

by Edward Lear


The Owl and the Pussy-Cat went to sea
In a beautiful pea-green boat:
They took some honey and plenty of money
Wrapped up in a five-pound note.
The Owl looked up to the stars above,
And sang to a small guitar,
"O lovely Pussy, O Pussy, my love,
What a beautiful Pussy you are,
You are,
You are!
What a beautiful Pussy you are!"

Pussy said to the Owl, "You elegant fowl,
How charmingly sweet you sing!
Oh! Let us be married; too long we have tarried:
But what shall we do for a ring?"
They sailed away for a year and a day,
To the land where the bong-tree grows;
And there in a wood a Piggy-wig stood,
With a ring at the end of his nose,
His nose,
His nose,
With a ring at the end of his nose.

Dear Pig, are you willing to sell for one shilling
Your ring?" Said the Piggy, "I will."
So they took it away, and were married next day
By the Turkey who lives on the hill.
They dined on mince and slices of quince,
Which they ate with a runcible spoon;
And hand in hand, on the edge of the sand,
They danced by the light of the moon,
The moon,
The moon,
They danced by the light of the moon.



from A Family of Poems: My Favorite Poetry for Children
Selected by Caroline Kennedy
Hyperion, 2005 

The Pasture (Monday Poem)

by Robert Frost


I'm going out to clean the pasture spring;
I'll only stop to rake the leaves away
(And wait to watch the water clear, I may):
I sha'n't be gone long. -- You come too.

I'm going out to fetch the little calf
That's standing by the mother. It's so young,
It totters when she licks it with her tongue.
I sha'n't be gone long.-- You come too.



from A Family of Poems: My Favorite Poetry for Children
Selected by Caroline Kennedy
Hyperion, 2005 

The Crocodile (Monday Poem)

by Lewis Carroll


How doth the little crocodile
Improve his shining tail,
And pour the waters of the Nile
On every golden scale!

How cheerfully he seems to grin,
How neatly spreads his claws,
And welcomes little fishes in,
With gently smiling jaws!



 from A Family of Poems: My Favorite Poetry for Children
Selected by Caroline Kennedy
Hyperion, 2005 

Farewell! LIke a Bee (Monday Poem)

by Basho


Farewell! Like a bee
reluctant to leave the deeps
of a peony.


from A Family of Poems: My Favorite Poetry for Children
Selected by Caroline Kennedy
Hyperion, 2005 
 

recipe for memories (Monday Poem)

by Marilyn Singer


Sometimes it's just a sharp whiff of mustard,
and you recall being at the ball park.
The sight of a cone dripping custard,
and you're there at the fair after dark.

The sound of corn popping -- movies with Dad.
The buzz of the mixer when Grandma bakes pies.
The soup that Mom serves the day you're feeling bad.
The birthday surprise of your grandpa's french fries.

The too much red pepper that caused you to sneeze.
The store where you thought you'd bite into a lime.
The slushy your drank till it made your brain freeze.
The stories that start, "And then there was that time . . ."

Today becomes last week, June, July, December.
Food has the power to help you remember.




from Follow the Recipe: Poems About Imagination, Celebration & Cake
by Marilyn Singer, illustrated by Marjorie Priceman
Dial, 2020

recipe for fairy tales (Monday Poem)

by Marilyn Singer


Take three bowls of porridge (too hot, too cold, just right)
a gingerbread house
an apple Snow White shouldn't eat
a basket of goodies for Grandma
a handful of magical beans
a gathering of ramps (whatever that means)
a single pea.

Put in several witches
princesses, giants
a boy with a lamp
an ugly duckling
a cat that can talk
a humongous bean stalk
a juniper tree.

They don't have to be fancy.
They don't have to rhyme.
But you'll implore,
you'll ask for more
     "once upon a time."




from Follow the Recipe: Poems About Imagination, Celebration & Cake
by Marilyn Singer, illustrated by Marjorie Priceman
Dial, 2020

recipe for science (Monday Poem)

by Marilyn Singer


This kitchen
is
your laboratory:
combining
molecules,
forming
crystals,
growing
good microbes.
Pickling
cucumbers.
Cool!
Assembling
rock candy.
Sweet!
Scrambling
eggs.
Fresh!
What's cooking?
Science!

Science,
what's cooking?
Fresh
eggs
scrambling.
Sweeet
rock candy
assembling.
Cool
cucumbers
pickling.
Good microbes
growing.
Crystals
forming.
Molecules
combining.
Your laboratory
is
this kitchen!




from Follow the Recipe: Poems About Imagination, Celebration & Cake
by Marilyn Singer, illustrated by Marjorie Priceman
Dial, 2020

recipe for following recipes (Monday Poem)

by Marilyn Singer


Sometimes you must follow things strictly word for word.
Sometimes it's more lively if you improvise.
The tried and true may sometimes be exactly what's preferred.
Sometimes you must do it strictly word for word.
Tuna fish and caramel would surely be absurd.
But sweet potato pizza? And excellent surprise!
Sometimes you must follow things strictly word for word.
Sometimes it's more lively if you imrovise.



from Follow the Recipe: Poems About Imagination, Celebration & Cake
by Marilyn Singer, illustrated by Marjorie Priceman
Dial, 2020

recipe for success in cooking (Monday Poem)

by Marilyn Singer


Crack your eggs when you're happy.
Beat them well when you're glad.
Melt your butter in a saucepan.
Take your eggs and gently add.
Stir them slowly till they're scrambled.
Serve them to your mom and dad.
Things taste best when you are cheerful.
Never cook when you are mad.


from Follow the Recipe: Poems About Imagination, Celebration & Cake
by Marilyn Singer, illustrated by Marjorie Priceman
Dial, 2020

If Once You Have Slept on an Island (Monday Poem)

by Rachel Field


If once you have slept on an island
You'll never be quite the same;
You may look as you looked the day before
And go by the same old name,

You may bustle about in street and shop'
You may sit at home and sew,
But you'll see blue water and wheeling gulls
Wherever your feet may go.

You may chat with the neighbors of this and that
And close to your fire keep,
But you'll hear ship whistle and lighthouse belll
And tides beat through your sleep.

Oh, you won't know why, and you can't say how
Such change upon you came,
But -- once you have slept on an island
You'll never be quite the same!



from Sing a Song of Seasons
A Nature Poem for Each Day of the Year
selected by Fiona Waters
illustrated by Frann Preston-Gannon
Candlewick Press, 2018

Shell (Monday Poem)

by Ted Hughes


The sea fills my ear
With sand and with fear.

You may wash out the sand
But never the sound
Of the ghost of the sea
That is haunting me.



from Sing a Song of Seasons
A Nature Poem for Each Day of the Year
selected by Fiona Waters
illustrated by Frann Preston-Gannon
Candlewick Press, 2018

That's What We'd Do (Monday Poem)

by Mary Mapes Dodge


If you were an owl,
And I were an owl,
And this were a tree,
     And the moon came out,
I know what we'd do.
We would stand, we two,
On a bough of the tree;
You'd wink at me,
And I'd wind at you;
That's what we'd do,
     Beyond a doubt.
I'd give you a rose
For your lovely nose,
And you'd look at me
     Without turning about.
I know what we'd do
(That is, I and you);
Why, you'd sing to me,
And I'd sing to you;
That's what we'd do,
    When the moon came out.



from Sing a Song of Seasons
A Nature Poem for Each Day of the Year
selected by Fiona Waters
illustrated by Frann Preston-Gannon
Candlewick Press, 2018  

Wintry Wind-Whipped Waves (Monday Poem)

Anonymous


Over wintry wind-whipped waves
The white-winged seagulls wildly sweep;
Weaving, winding, wheeling, whistling,
Where the wide waste waters weep.




from Sing a Song of Seasons
A Nature Poem for Each Day of the Year
selected by Fiona Waters
illustrated by Frann Preston-Gannon
Candlewick Press, 2018

We Make a Fist (Monday Poem)

by Mahogany L. Browne


The girl up the block is good at coloring in the lines

The kid next door is great at popping wheelies

My cousin across the street is a magician when it comes to making songs

And my brother is good at baking cookies

When we want to have a picnic
We bring our greatest talents
Put them all on the blanket
And share with each other
The laughter and songs
The artwork and baked goods
Created by our hands.



from Woke: A Young People's Call to Justice 
by Mahogany L. Browne, 
illustrated by Theodore Taylor III
Roaring Brook Press, 2020

How to Be a Tree in Winter (Monday Poem)

by Irene Latham


Enough hiding --

drop any leaves
that linger.

Etch you
message

in calligraphy

across
a prachment

sky.




from The Proper Way to Meet a Hedgehog and Other How-To Poems
selected by Paul B. Janeczko 
illustrated by Richard Jones
Candlewick Press, 2019 

Me (Monday Poem)

by Walter de la Mare


As long as I live
I shall always be
My Self -- and no other,
Just me.

Like a tree.
Willow, elder,
Aspen, thorn,
or cypress forlorn.

Like a flower,
For its hour --
Primrose, or pink,
Or a violet --
Sunned by the sun,
And with dewdrops wet.

Always just me.



from A Family of Poems: My Favorite Poetry for Children
Selected by Caroline Kennedy
Hyperion, 2005 

January (Monday Poem)

by John Foster


January is
a clean white sheet, newly-ironed;
an empty page;
a field of freshly-fallen snow
waiting to be mapped
by our footsteps.



from Sing a Song of Seasons
A Nature Poem for Each Day of the Year
selected by Fiona Waters
illustrated by Frann Preston-Gannon
Candlewick Press, 2018