Chums (Monday Poem)

by Arthur Guiterman

 

 

He sits and begs; he gives a paw;

He is, as you can see,

The finest dog you ever saw,

And he belongs to me.

 

He follows everywhere I go

And even when I swim.

I laugh because he thinks, you know,

That I belong to him.

 

But still, no matter what we do,

We never have a fuss,

And so I guess it must be true

What we belong to us.

 

 

from Forget-Me-Nots: Poems to Learn by Heart

Selected by Mary Ann Hoberman

Illustrated by Michael Emberley

Little Brown and Company, 2012  

 

 

 

 

Messages from Everywhere (Monday Poem)

 light up our backyard.

A bird that flew five thousand miles

is trilling six bright notes.

This bird flew over mountains and valleys

and tiny dolls and pencils

of children I will never see.

Because this bird is singing to me,

I belong to the wide wind,

the people far away who share

the air and the clouds.

Together we are looking up

into all we do not own 

and we are listening.

 

 

 

by Naomi Shihab Nye 

 

from Forget-Me-Nots: Poems to Learn by Heart

Selected by Mary Ann Hoberman

Illustrated by Michael Emberley

Little Brown and Company, 2012  

Eletelephony (Monday Poem)

 by Laura E Richards

 

 

Once there was an elephant,

Who tried to use the telephant --

No! No! I mean an elephone

Who tried to use the telephone --

(Dear me! I am not certain quite

That even now I've got it right.)

 

Howe'er it was, he got his trunk

Entangled in the telephunk;

The more he tried to get it free,

The louder buzzed the telephee --

(I fear I'd better drop the song

Of elephop and telephong!)

 

 

from Sing a Song of Popcorn: Every Child's Book of Poems

Selected by Beatrice Schenk de Regniers

Scholastic, 1988  

Why Poetry? (Monday Poem)

by Lee Bennett Hopkins

 

 

Why poetry?

Why?

 

Why sunsets?

Why trees?

 

Why birds?

Why seas?

 

Why you?

Why me?

 

Why friends?

Why families?

 

Why laugh?

Why cry?

 

Why hello?

Why good-bye?

 

Why poetry?

 

That's why!

 

 

from Falling Down the Page: A Book of List Poems

edited by Georgia Heard, Roaring Brook Press, 2009  

 

 

 

What is Earth? (Monday Poem)

 by J. Patrick Lewis

 

 

What is earth, whale?

A sea where I sing.

What is earth, robin?

A thing I call Spring.

What is earth, python?

A space to squeeze in.

What is earth, penguin?

A place to freeze in.

What is earth, camel?

A land without water.

What is earth, horsefly?

No spot for a swatter.

What is earth, earthworm?

An apple a day.

What is earth, groundhog?

A hole in PA.

What is earth, eagle?

A sky where I soar.

What is earth, cockroach?

A house I explore.

What is earth, eel?

It's really quite shocking.

What is earth, parrot?

Where I go on talking

                                                    and talking

                                                    and talking

                                                    and talking. . . . . .

 

 

 

from Falling Down the Page: A Book of List Poems

edited by Georgia Heard, Roaring Brook Press, 2009 

 

  

  

  

Sure Cure (Monday Poem)

 by Anna Grossnickle Hines

 

 

My sister and I were fighting.

We couldn't get along.

She said I moved her game piece.

I said she was wrong.

She said I was stupid.

I said she was worse 

and made a nasty face at her.

She let out a curse.

 

Mom said, "Stop this bickering

before it comes to blows."

She made us stand together

touching nose to nose.

"How long?" we asked; she answered,

"We'll just see how it goes."

 

We stood there looking cross-eyed

at our noses touching tips

and feeling rather silly

while pinching up our lips

to try to stop the giggles---

mine started in my toes.

It's hard to keep on fighting

when you're touching nose to nose.

 

 

from Peaceful Pieces: Poems and Quilts About Peace

by Anna Grossnickle Hines, Henry Holt, 2011  

After Spending the Morning Baking Bread (Monday Poem)

by Jack Ridl

 

Our cat lies across the stove’s front burners,
right leg hanging over the oven door. He
is looking into the pantry where his bowl
sits full on the counter. His smaller dish,
the one for his splash of cream, sits empty.
Say yes to wanting to be this cat. Say
yes to wanting to lie across the left-over
warmth, letting it rise into your soft belly,
spreading into every twitch of whisker, twist
of fur and cell, through the mobius strip
of your bloodstream. You won’t know
you will die. You won’t know the mice
do not exist for you. If a lap is empty and
warm, you will land on it, feel an unsteady
hand along your back, fingers scratching
behind your ear. You will purr.

from How to Love the World: Poems of Gratitude and Hope, edited by James Crews, Storey Publishing, 2021.