Granny (Monday Poem)

by Sharon Draper

 

 

I remember my Granny's home cookin',

She'd hum, and she'd mix, and she'd stir.

She could make buttered bones taste delicious,

If that's all the makin's there were.

 

I remember my Granny's lap-naptimes,

Where dreams would lie wrapped her her arms.

She would sing of old pain and lost glory,

Of the long-ago days on the farms.

 

I remember my Granny's strong fingers,

As she brushed and she braided my hair.

My scalp and my brain would just tingle

As she wound her own memories there.

 

I remember my Granny's old washtub;

It was battered and made out of tin.

Warm bubbles made baths seem like magic,

And nighttime and dreams could begin.

 

I remember my Granny's soft blankets,

On a large, squeaky, four-poster bed.

The faint smell of mothballs and cedar,

And her warm breathing close to my head.

 

 

from Buttered Bones

Collected poetry by Sharon M Draper

1997  

 

San Francisco (Monday Poem)

 by Francisco X Alarcon

 

 

my name is

Francisco like

my grandfather

 

and like 

his grandfather's 

grandfather

 

I'm so happy

this city is

named after

 

Saint Francis--

the patron saint

of all animals

 

here everybody

knows how to

spell my name

 

 

 

 

yo me llamo 

Francisco

como mi abuelo

 

y como

el abuelo

de su abuelo

 

como me alegro

que esta ciudad

lleve el nombre

 

de San Francisco--

el santo patron

de los animales

 

aqui mi nombre

todos lo saben

escribir

 

 

from Forget-Me-Not: Poems to Learn by Heart

Selected by Mary Ann Hoberman

illustrated by Michael Emberley

Little, Brown and Company, 20012  

 

 

 

Today Was Not My Day at All (Monday Poem)

by Jack Prelutsky

 

 

Today was not my day at all,

today was not my day,

for everything went wrong today

in almost every way.

This morning I was menaced

by a troop of marching ants,

I brushed my teeth with shaving cream,

I split my brand new pants.

 

I smashed my only glasses,

and the key snapped in the lock,

the toaster didn't toast the toast,

then handed me a shock.

I walked into a door knob,

something squirmed inside my shoe,

I found an ugly beetle

at the bottom of my stew.

 

A bird I didn't recognize

flew down and pecked my nose,

a chimpanzee on roller skates

sped by and squashed my toes.

I wonder if I'm under

some unlucky sort of curse,

today's the twelfth, and Thursday ---

tomorrow may be worse.

 

 

from It's Raining Pigs & Noodles: poems by Jack Prelutsky

Illustrated by James Stevenson

Greenwillow, 2000 

Recipe for Writing an Autumn Poem (Monday Poem)

by Georgia Heard

 

 

 

One teaspoon wild geese.

One tablespoon red kite.

One cup wind song.

One pint trembling leaves.

One quart darkening sky.

One gallon north wind.

 

 

from Falling Down the Page: A Book of List Poems

Edited by Georgia Heard

2009 Roaring Brook Press  

 

 

 

Chocolate and Vanilla (Monday Poem)

by Sharon Draper 

 

 

Smooth vanilla ice cream,

Chocolate cake so sweet,

Delicious and enticing

for trembling lips to eat.

 

Soft vanilla pudding,

Rich chocolate pie,

A luscious combination,

Delight for tongue and eye.

 

Hot vanilla icing,

Cool chocolate cream,

Melted on each other,

A warm and sensuous dream.

 

 

 

from Buttered Bones: collected poetry 

by Sharon M. Draper 

1997 

 

Aunt Sue's Stories (Monday Poem)

 by Langston Hughes

 

 

Aunt Sue has a head full of stories.
Aunt Sue has a whole heart full of stories.
Summer nights on the front porch
Aunt Sue cuddles a brown-faced child to her bosom
And tells him stories.

Black slaves
Working in the hot sun,
And black slaves
Walking in the dewy night,
And black slaves
Singing sorrow songs on the banks of a mighty river
Mingle themselves softly
In the flow of old Aunt Sue’s voice,
Mingle themselves softly
In the dark shadows that cross and recross
Aunt Sue’s stories.

And the dark-faced child, listening,
Knows that Aunt Sue’s stories are real stories.
He knows that Aunt Sue
Never got her stories out of any book at all,
But that they came
Right out of her own life.

And the dark-faced child is quiet
Of a summer night
Listening to Aunt Sue’s stories.

 

from https://poetryoutloud.org 

 

This is Just to Say (Monday Poem)

 by William Carlos Williams

 

 

I have eaten 

the plums

that were in 

the icebox

 

and which

you were probably 

saving

for breakfast

 

Forgive me

they were delicious

so sweet

and so cold.

 

 

from  A River of Words: 

The Story of William Carlos Williams

by Jen Bryant, illustrated by Melissa Sweet
Eerdmans, 2008  

Longings (Monday Poem)

 

 by Nellie Rathbone Bright

 

I want to slay all the things just things

That they tell me I must do.

I would drown them all in the tears I weep

When each breathless day is through.

I want to flee to a cool sand dune

On a wind-swept beach where the humming tune

Of the wind, and the waves, and the heart of me

Drams in my ears, and my lips are wet with the tang of the sea.

I want to feel the rain on my cheek,

The thrill that comes from a lark’s long note,

I want to see the sky at dawn thru the lacy green of a willow tree.

I want to look deep in a pool at night, and see the stars

Flash flame like the fire in black opals.

 

 

https://poetryoutloud.org/poems/longings/ 

 

Chicago (Monday Poem)

 by Carl Sandburg

 

 

 Hog Butcher for the World,
        Tool maker, Stacker of Wheat,
        Player with Railroads and the Nation’s
             Freight Handler;
        Stormy, husky, brawling,
        City of the Big Shoulders:

They tell me you are wicked and I believe them, for I have seen your
     painted women under the gas lamps luring the farm boys.
And they tell me you are crooked and I answer: yes, it is true I have seen the
     gunman kill and go free to kill again.
And they tell me you are brutal and my reply is: On the faces of women and
     children I have seen the marks of wanton hunger.
And having answered so I turn once more to those who sneer at this my city,
     and I give them back the sneer and say to them:
Come and show me another city with lifted head singing so proud to be alive
     and coarse and strong and cunning.
Flinging magnetic curses amid the toil of piling job on job, here is a tall bold
     slugger set vivid against the little soft cities;
Fierce as a dog with tongue lapping for action, cunning as a savage pitted
     against the wilderness,
     Bareheaded,
     Shoveling,
     Wrecking,
     Planning,
     Building, breaking, rebuilding,
Under the smoke, dust all over his mouth, laughing with white teeth,
Under the terrible burden of destiny laughing as a young man laughs,
Laughing even as an ignorant fighter laughs who has never lost a battle,
Bragging and laughing that under his wrist is the pulse, and under his ribs
     the heart of the people,
          Laughing!
Laughing the stormy, husky, brawling laughter of Youth, half-naked,
     sweating, proud to be Hog Butcher, Tool Maker, Stacker of Wheat, Player
     with Railroads and Freight Handler to the Nation.

https://poetryoutloud.org/poems/chicago/

 

A Time to Talk (Monday Poem)

by Robert Frost

 

 

When a friend calls to me from the road
And slows his horse to a meaning walk,
I don’t stand still and look around
On all the hills I haven’t hoed,
And shout from where I am, What is it?
No, not as there is a time to talk.
I thrust my hoe in the mellow ground,
Blade-end up and five feet tall,
And plod: I go up to the stone wall
For a friendly visit.

 

 

https://poetryoutloud.org/poems/a-time-to-talk/  

The Fool's Song (Monday Poem)

by William Carlos Williams

 

 

I tried to put a bird in a cage.
                O fool that I am!
         For the bird was Truth.
Sing merrily, Truth: I tried to put
                 Truth in a cage!

And when I had the bird in the cage,
                 O fool that I am!
          Why, it broke my pretty cage.
Sing merrily, Truth: I tried to put
                  Truth in a cage!

And when the bird was flown from the cage,
                  O fool that I am!
            Why, I had nor bird nor cage.
Sing merrily, Truth: I tried to put
                   Truth in a cage!
             Heigh-ho! Truth in a cage.

 

 

https://poetryoutloud.org/poems/the-fools-song/ 

 

Peace on Earth (Monday Poem)

 by William Carlos Williams

 

 

The Archer is wake!
The Swan is flying!
Gold against blue
An Arrow is lying.
There is hunting in heaven—
Sleep safe till tomorrow.

The Bears are abroad!
The Eagle is screaming!
Gold against blue
Their eyes are gleaming!
Sleep!
Sleep safe till tomorrow.

The Sisters lie
With their arms intertwining;
Gold against blue
Their hair is shining!
The Serpent writhes!
Orion is listening!
Gold against blue
His sword is glistening!
Sleep!
There is hunting in heaven—
Sleep safe till tomorrow.

from Poetryoutloud.org

 

Pinata (Monday Poem)

by Jennifer Clement

translated by Consuelo de Arenlund

 

In the night,

while we were asleep,

the birthday pinata

fell out of the tree

like an overripe fruit,

spilling all the candy.

We were happy

we did not have to break it

as it was a yellow lion

in a green hat.

 

 

En la noche,

mientras dormiamos,

la pinata de cumpleanos se

cayo del arbol

como fruta demasiado madura

y tiro todos las dulces.

Nos dio mucho gusto

no tener que romperla

pues era un leon amarillo

con sombrero verde.

 

 

 

from The Tree is Older Than You Are:

A Bilingual Gathering of Poems and Stories

from Mexico With Paintings by Mexican Artists

Selected by Naomi Shihab Nye

Simon & Schuster, 1998  

Lemon Tree (Monday Poem)

 by Jennifer Clement

translated by Consuelo de Aerenlund 

 

 

If you climb a lemon tree

feel the bark

under your knees and feet,

smell the white flowers,

rub the leaves

in your hands.

Remember,

the tree is older than you are

and you might find stories

in its branches.

 

 

 Si te subes a un arbol de limon

siente la corteza

con tus rodillas y pies,

huele sus flores blancas,

talla las hojas

entre tus manos.

Recuerda,

el arbol es mayor que tu

y tal vez encuentres cuentos

entre sus ramas. 

 

 

from The Tree is Older Than You Are:

A Bilingual Gathering of Poems and Stories

from Mexico With Paintings by Mexican Artists

Selected by Naomi Shihab Nye

Simon & Schuster, 1998  

  

The Apple (Monday Poem)

by Jose Gorostiza

translated by Joan Darby Norris and Judith Infante

 

 

Yes, the apple tastes of light,

cold light.

That's it, the apple!

What a lively fruit

so much like morning!

 

 

 

La Manzana

 

Sabe a liz, a luz fria,

si, la manzana.

Que amanecida fruta

tan de manzana!

 

 

 

from The Tree is Older Than You Are:

A Bilingual Gathering of Poems and Stories

from Mexico With Paintings by Mexican Artists

Selected by Naomi Shihab Nye

Simon & Schuster, 1998  

 

The Cedar Chest (Monday Poem)

by Rosario Castellanos 

translated by Judith Infante

 

 

The ax that felled

forever the fragrance

and the tree taken

with its torso severed.

 

Now here you are, under a roof,

in the corner of a bedroom

and guests take you for granted

and, you seem to accept it

    and to keep still.

 

Don't sell away your memory

to sad routines and to time.

Do not forget the woods

or the wind or the birds.

 

 

from The Tree is Older Than You Are:

A Bilingual Gathering of Poems and Stories

from Mexico With Paintings by Mexican Artists

Selected by Naomi Shihab Nye

Simon & Schuster, 1998  

The Animal Store (Monday Poem)

by Rachel Field 

 

 

If I had a hundred dollars to spend,

Or maybe a little more,

I'd hurry as fast as my legs would go

Straight to the animal store.

 

I wouldn't say, "How much for this or that?" --

"What kind of a dog is he?"

I'd buy as many as rolled an eye,

Or wagged a tail at me!

 

I'd take the hound with the drooping ears

That sits by himself alone;

Cockers and Cairns and wobbly pups

For to be my very own.

 

I might buy a parrot all red and green,

And the monkey I saw before,

If I had a hundred dollars to spend,

Or maybe a little more.

 

 

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

Selected by Mary Ann Hoberman

Illustrated by Michael Emberley

Little Brown and Company, 2012  

 

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