Thursday, August 27, 2009

Poetry Stretch Results - Back to School

The challenge this week was to write a poem about school. Here are the results.
Jane Yolen left this poem in the comments.

    My friend teaches physics,
    writes his lesson plan to Led Zeppelin,
    his tests to the Rolling Stones.
    What next—finals to Cream?
    I cannot write even so small a piece
    as a single poem
    with rock standards blaring away,
    or I want to get up and dance.
    There has to be a physics answer,
    something to do with lights,
    with optics, with the speed of sound.

    © Jane Yolen
Julie Larios of The Drift Record left this poem in the comments.
    Pencil Box

    I put four bits on the counter
    and the box was mine.
    Six yellow pencils fit there
    side by side, I was perfectly addled,
    I was a goner – even before I knew
    the alphabet, I knew its cedar perfume –

    I flew over the high-humped bridge
    painted on the top, over the willow,
    the m-stroke for a bird, everything
    was suggestion then, before
    the putting on of too fine a point.
    People expected me to come

    to my senses, save the change
    in my burning pockets, after all
    the box was wooden, cheap
    Chinatown, but half a dollar
    went a long way
    toward heaven when heaven was closer.
Francesca of Making It Up left this poem in the comments.
    January 1 always confounds me.
    New year? Why? There is no hinge,
    No turning, no change.
    Selfish Janus, playing both sides.
    Those arbitrary, arrogant Romans might
    be satisfied but I know better.

    The year begins now.
    Summer browns and wilts and finally
    Surrenders its might.
    We shake it off like a dog does a bath,
    drops spattering the sidewalk
    landing all around, the dog already running.

    This is how it begins.
    Three fresh pencils in a case.
    An impatient marble notebook.
    New shoes. Packed lunch.
    Kettle-drum heart.
    And a thousand snail trails like silver arrows
    Pointing the way from summer
    To school.
Diane Mayr of Random Noodling left this senryu in the comments.
    nearly sixty
    still thinking the year
    runs september to june
Amy Ludwig WanDerwater left this poem in the comments.
    Please Bring:

    One guinea pig
    A poem each day
    Books about oceans
    Time just to play
    A listening ear

    (I made a supply list
    for teacher this year.)
Tiel Aisha Ansari of Knocking From Inside is sharing two poems, Higher Text and Balloons.

Jane Yolen came back to share an old favorite of hers.
    Crayons: A Rainbow Poem

    This box contains the wash of blue sky,
    spikes of green spring,
    a circle of yellow sun,
    triangle flames of orange and red.

    It has the lime caterpillar inching on a brown branch,
    the shadow black in the center of a grove of trees.

    It holds my pink
    and your chocolate
    and her burnt sienna
    and his ivory skin.

    In it are all the colors of the world.


    © Jane Yolen, all rights reserved
Elaine Magliaro of Wild Rose Reader revisits her days in Catholic school with A Back to School Poem.

Harriet of spynotes shares a rhyming back to school poem.

Kate Coombs of Book Aunt left this poem in the comment.
    Sack Lunch

    Turkey sandwich on whole wheat,
    not Wonder Bread to make
    into perfect white pills.
    The lettuce isn't crunchy,
    it's dark green like algae,
    an actual leaf.
    My apple won't shine—
    Mom took the shine off,
    she calls it wax. My carrots
    aren't orange bullets,
    they're pick-up sticks cut
    from skinny fern-top roots.
    When I begged for dessert,
    she said, "That's the apple."
    No chips in a foil bag
    with screaming letters
    and a neon cheetah,
    no goopy-hearted Twinkie
    hugged by sweet yellow cake.
    "Healthy food tastes better,"
    Mom told me. But I ask,
    I ask and I ask.
    No one wants to trade.
Linda of The Write Time left this poem in the comments.
    Last Year’s Sneakers

    Lie on the bedroom floor
    their smooth white skin
    scuffed by time—
    neon tangerine laces
    now pale apricot
    once unyielding
    now weak and worn

    Last year’s sneakers
    lie on the bedroom floor
    their replacements
    unboxed, laced up
    ready to run

    Last year’s sneakers
    lie on the bedroom floor
    tongues hanging out
    nothing to prove
    ready to rest
Andi of a wrung sponge shares a poem for her son.
I've been working on a number of poems. Here's a quick fib.
summer’s end
with sharpened pencils
poised to write vacation tell-alls
It's not too late if you still want to play. Leave me a note about your poem and I'll add it to the list.

1 comment:

  1. I love these poems! You have collected some really great ones here. Thanks for being so faithful in the Monday Stretch. I look forward to it every week.

    My poem is published for Friday Poetry this week here: Poem for Back to School