One of my favorite poems about a school supply item is this one by Daniel J. Langton.
School
by Daniel J. Langton
I was sent home the first day
with a note: Danny needs a ruler.
My father nodded, nothing seemed so apt.
School is for rules, countries need rulers,
graphs need graphing, the world is straight ahead.
Read the poem in its entirety.
I hope you'll write a little something about a school supply item this week. Please share a link to your poem or the poem itself in the comments. In the meantime, I'll be dreaming about those colored pencils.
Staple Remover
ReplyDeleteMost ferocious
of fishes, all
mouth almost,
huge-toothed
slaverer over
silver slivers;
what midwife
down deep dark
delivered your
shark’s-heart,
carnivorous
atrociousness?
Is life an art
of lasting marks—
or is your grasp
on hook or hasp
a craft of vast
unfastenings?
© 2013 Steven Withrow, all rights reserved
Nice, Steven!
ReplyDeleteEraser
How come there’s more
pencil than eraser?
Don’t they know
how many mistakes I make?
How many times
I change my mind?
—Kate Coombs, 2013
all rights reserved
What if. . .
ReplyDeleteWhat if no one at school likes me?
What if everybody stares?
What if I forget my lunchbox?
What if no one ever shares?
What if I fall down at recess?
What if they laugh at my name?
What if someone is a bully?
What if no one’s glad I came?
What if no sits beside me?
What if all my pens are blue?
What if Mom calls on my cell phone?
What if none of this is true?
THEN I’LL LOVE SCHOOL!
©2013 Jane Yolen all rights reserved
MAGIC PENCIL
ReplyDeletewith a wiggle
and a scratch
my thoughts
appear on paper
with a wiggle
and a rub
TA-DA!
they disappear!
Copyright © 2013 Anastasia Suen All Rights Reserved.
PEN(NY) FOR YOUR THOUGHTS
ReplyDeleteCerulean ink drains my thoughts onto composition paper.
Spilling my hopes that Grandpa will soon check out of the
Hospital so Grandma’s tears will dissipate.
Testifying to Dad’s hunched shouldered, haggard faced
Exhaustion after working double shifts back to back days.
Disclosing of Mom’s frantic check writing, catching up
On bills that flow in our mailbox faster than she can
Finesse them out into the world.
Admitting that life’s constant whirlwind has me gnawing
At my nails with the fury of a bear eating its supper.
Who knew that this sometimes splotchy instrument calms
My nerves better than cartoons, recess or Sunday afternoon
Car rides?
(C) Charles Waters 2013 all rights reserved.