I was thinking about selecting words for a prompt today, but then decided it might be more fun if you could pick your own, within some parameters. So, here's the challenge. Head over to the New York Public Library and check out the titles on the list 100 Great Children's Books: 100 Years, or try the Cybils nominations for 2014. Pick a title with at least three words. Write the words in the title down the page and use these words as the first lines in your new poem.
For example, if I chose IN THE NIGHT KITCHEN, my poem starter would look like this.
In
the
night
kitchen
And the starter for MAKE WAY FOR DUCKLINGS would look like this.
Make
way
for
ducklings
Easy-peasy, right? I hope you'll join me in writing a poem that starts with a children's book title. Please share a link to your poem or the poem itself in the comments.
What a cool idea! I've written two:
ReplyDeleteMoonlight
At night when the moon shines on
the snow I think of the
same moon shining on monks in winter or a midnight
moment when mammoths tromped
around in the moonlight, also seeing snow.
The moonlit moments in this
world aren’t always for lovers.
Crow
The crow crosses the
graveyard, looking for a stone
book. He finds the moon.
—Kate Coombs, 2015
all rights reserved
Yes, what a fun idea, and what a great list of books.
ReplyDeleteKate, I like your monks and mammoths in the moonlight.
Two for Tea
Bread and jam
for Francis.
Bread and jam
for me.
Two cubes of sugar,
two trickles of cream,
and two china cups
of tea.
Liz Steinglass
Nice idea, Tricia--and so many to choose from! I appreciated this link and will share with my kindergarten families.
ReplyDeleteUncle Grump
"Bread
and
jam,
bread
and butter,
bread
and honey,
BREAD,"
he mutters.
"What I like's
brown bread
and jam.
I do not like
green eggs
and ham.
When will
he ever
understand,
that pushy,
pesky
Sam-I-Am?"
How funny that Liz and I both chose Frances! Can Uncle Grump join you for tea? Kate, I'm intrigued by your stone book in a graveyard...
ReplyDeleteGo, Frances! I'm tempted to write more of these… :)
ReplyDeleteUncle Grump is quite welcome. He'll just need to bring a third cup.
ReplyDeleteI I randomly chose book number 26 in the top 100 list, and it was entitled 'Dont let the pigeon dive the bus, this is my effort, I hope I've understood the concept!.
ReplyDeleteDON'T , they said, whatever you do,
LET him drive that bus,
THE silly bird doesn't have a clue
he's sure to cause a fuss.
PIGEON would not listen though
he got behind the wheel,
I took the seat behind him
prepared for an ordeal.
DRIVE, he shouted angrily
we need to get to school,
then he turned to look at me
and said, 'I'm such a fool'!
I thought that I could drive this bus
THE way that humans do,
but I'm a bird, blessed with wings
I guess it's time I flew.
BUS, car, motorbike
these things are not for me
let me pass my driving test
then perhaps we'll see.
Time Like Lava
DeleteThe time of our lives means little in a
graveyard, but it also means little in a
book, for time expands and contracts
with each reader, each reading,
like lava flowing, cooling
until the coiled rock of it,
like graveyard monuments
lets us read our own lives.
©2015 Jane Yolen all rights reserved
Very nice. I also adore The Graveyard Book.
DeleteWho is Miss Sally?
ReplyDeleteBread baking warms the room
And brings the children round
Jam sweetens so the spoon
For us to spread around
Francis, don’t you dally,
Come soon and bring Miss Sally!
oops, Frances/ not Francis!
ReplyDeleteI love this idea, and all the poems people have shared! It's been a pretty hectic week, but I'm looking forward to playing around with it this weekend. Thanks for sharing, Tricia!
ReplyDeleteThe Westing Game . . .
ReplyDeleteThe wild west wind is
westing over the plains.
game roam wild,
across the westing plains.
When You Reach Me . . .
When is just whenever
you can make it here
reach me now or later
me and you, my dear.
Nice, Julie!
DeleteThanks, Kate--I loved yours, too!
ReplyDeleteONE SHOT
ReplyDeleteDon’t underestimate my talent Mr. Buchman,
Let me sing for our school assembly, please.
The time has arrived; believe in me, I don’t sound like
Pigeons have a coughing fit anymore, sir. You said my
Drive to improve myself has been noted by my classmates.
The auditorium is filling up, don’t let me sit in back of the
Bus this time, let me be the driver, I’ll get us to our destination
Safer than infants being snuggled by their mothers.
(c) Charles Waters 2015 all rights reserved.
Hello Charles, would you mind reading my poem, as I used the same book title as you did 'Don't let the pigeon drive the bus', but I don't know if I've understood the concept!.
DeleteHello Maria. The way the form works, I think, is you take the title and write it down the the page so each word of the title is the first word in your next line. After you complete that, if the poems needs to continue you can add your own word, which is what I did. Does that make sense? Wish I could explain it better. Enjoy!
Delete