February 01, 2011

A Week of Poems

A short list of what emerged while we wrote daily poems with The Poem Farm last week:

Attention to Description

Choosing the best word to capture something, the emotionally charged word, the word with the right sound

Efficiency of Expression
Words like turgid and cogent and concise came out while we talked about how a poem might express in one exact word what we might usually say in ten.


One of our kids hears meter easily. The other struggles to tell how many syllables are in the world struggle. But both could hear four strong beats in a line, and—at least some of the time—aimed for it.

Rhyme Schemes
The children did some rhyming instinctively. Then we looked at Amy's poems and old favorites from Shel Silverstein, and they experimented with trying to imitate more structured rhyme.

A new word. And triplet and quatrain.

What it means to assume the voice of a hermit crab's shell.

Some Scientific Observation
Nathaniel did try to stay awake all night to watch his crabs. (Like me, he's an early-to-bed personality, and I don't think he lasted much past 10:00.)

A Little History
I'm not sure why Jessica is so interested in the first Fourth of July celebrations from Philadelphia in 1777, but we read about them together.


The satisfaction of seeing your work improve. Jessica was utterly pleased with herself when she sneaked references to red, white, and blue into her Saturday poem. "Isn't that clever?" 

Nathaniel, who invariably resists editing, worked hard to hide his pride after he changed "I'm only one out of a lot of shells" to "the sea of my kind blankets the sand."

What a delight this was. And how grateful we all are to Amy at The Poem Farm for sharing her own work and encouraging us.

January 30, 2011

Our Week with The Poem Farm: Sunday

I'm very grateful to Amy at The Poem Farm for sharing her own poems this week and for offering comments so generously to Nathaniel and Jessica on their poems. We've really enjoyed participating in this group effort. I hope we try something like this again.

Sneeze at a Sparkler
by Jessica

On top of the fourth of July
All covered with fireworks
I lost my poor sparkler
When somebody sneezed

It rolled off my hand
And onto the grass
And then my poor sparkler
Exploded with pizazz

And then my poor sparkler
Rolled off of the hill
And there it grew into
A tree that grew sparklers

So here's a little tip:
When you're playing with a sparkler
Don't let anybody sneeze!

Watching My Crabs
by Nathaniel

Falcon-fast when in need of speed
These little critters don't need a lead

Sometimes hungry, sometimes not
Sometimes they leave their food to rot

Their constant love to explore
Is to the watcher sometimes a bore

Their tunnels are usually where they take their tour
If they meet, there might be some gore.

Scurry, scurry, scurry all day
They love to explore their life away.

Shakespeare in Our Kitchen

In sixth grade I thought I read Hamlet.

Shakespeare was a famous name to me, nothing more, and I think I saw some personal challenge in reading this most famous of grown-up writers.

When my book report came back, Mrs. Miller explained, very gently, that I hadn't read Hamlet at all.

I had found the wrong library shelf. My book was a historical study of the staging of Shakespeare. Seeing a title like Hamlet: A Performance History, I mistook it for the real thing. And there were bits of the real thing in there, but only bits, out of order, and buried among bits of other plays and lots of commentary.

A whole book about...another book? This was unexpected.

Skip ahead 30 years, and Camille and I have just read Macbeth aloud with our children, neither of them quite as old as I when I had attempted Hamlet.

Our kids are more familiar with how plays work, having seen many live dramas and musicals. (Homeschoolers buy tickets at the heavily discounted school rates.)

Initially wary, Nathaniel warmed enough to create costumes and two prop knives—a clean "before" and a blood-stained "after" version. Jessica embraced the role of Lady Macbeth a little too eagerly. Over the course of several nights we invited friends to read some of the parts, enlisted stuffed animals and dolls to stand in for characters, and compared notes from different editions while stumbling through the language.

We made delicious mistakes:
  • Banquo's issue, referring to his descendants, was read as Banquo's tissue. Sneezing jokes ensued.
  •  That business in your bosoms became the more intestinal business in your bottoms.
  •  The blessings that hang about the king's throne were, about our kitchen table, no longer sundry but sun-dried.
  •  When I asked for ideas about what a hurley burley might be, Jessica looked offended that I should ask, then hulked her lanky ten-year old body into a bicep-flexing pose and said, "You know, a hurley burley! A big tough guy with muscles."

    And we were victorious! I don't pretend that any of us understood every word. But we got through it, followed the basic plot, and even discussed a handful of poetic images and plot parallels. Shakespeare migrated from the mysterious unknown into something recognizable. 

    In college I was struggling to read Karl Marx when a biographical detail struck me. A fan of Shakespeare, Marx insisted that his children know all the plays.

    Recalling my sixth-grade failure, I tried to imagine that. Were the whole family geniuses? Did other kids ridicule the young Marxes?

    Above all, what sort of weird parents read Shakespeare with their children?

    Now I have kids of my own, and the older they get, the more certain I am that homeschooling, well, weirdens them. I just hope it's in a wonderful way.

    January 29, 2011

    Our Week with The Poem Farm: Saturday

    I've been delighted and surprised to see the different structures and forms our kids have tried during their collaboration with The Poem Farm this week. Most surprising of all, perhaps, was to see Nathaniel take on the voice of a crab's shell or to see Jessica speak to a firework. I admire their imagination.

    Philadelphia, July 4, 1777
    by Jessica

    Thirteen ships a-sailing
    Among the waters so blue

    Thirteen cannons shot out
    As many people who had shed
    Red blood for our country
    Watched the crew

    Thirteen American flags fluttered
    On white sails as our nation grew

    Hooray! All thirteen states are free!
    And so are you and me!

    What Would I Do?
    by Nathaniel

    What would I do if my crabs grew three times their size every day?
    What would I do if my crabs started spitting up clay?
    What would I do if my crabs killed each other in a duel?
    What would I do if my crabs tore up my sheets while I was at school?

    What would I do if they fell down the loo?
    What would I do? What would I do?

    The King of Pop and Taylor Swift

    On the way home from choir practice, the radio news played a report related to the investigation of Michael Jackson's death.

    Jessica, still surfing the gregarious wave that an ocean of thirty girls roiling for two hours will kick up, started to prattle.

    "Michael Jackson. I don't know much about Michael Jackson. He was a singer and he's dead now and he had five brothers and they were called the Jackson 5 and he had plastic surgery but I don't really know much about that and he looked kind of weird that is all I know I don't know very much about Michael Jackson."

    Our kids really don't see much TV or Internet. I'm still amazed at what they absorb.

    "And he kissed Mom," I added.

    This is a fact. When Camille was a very young girl in an aisle seat, The Jackson 5 ran into the audience, and an almost-as-young Michael kissed her cheek. Camille's siblings validate the account.

    "I KNOW! HE KISSED MOM! ISN'T THAT GREAT! He's like a sell-uh, what's that word, a sell-uh-britty or something, IT'S ALMOST LIKE MOM KISSED TAYLOR SWIFT!"

    January 28, 2011

    Our Week with The Poem Farm: Friday

    As part of our participation with Amy LV at The Poem Farm, today Jessica pens an acrostic, and Nathaniel opts for a conversational poem.

    Is there a word for a conversational poem—one in which two voices just talk back and forth? Some of Robert Frost's poems come to my mind right away, like The Telephone.

    Fourth of July
    by Jessica



    YEAR 1776

    A Conversation Between My Crabs
    by Nathaniel

    “I want to.”
    “No, I.”

    “I want to be held.”
    “But so do I.”

    “Oh, here he comes!”
    “We’d better hide!”

    “No, I’d better stand on this rock.
    "Then maybe he’ll take me outside.”

    “Get off!  Get off!
    "I want to stand there.”

    “But so do I.”

    January 27, 2011

    Our Week with The Poem Farm: Thursday

    What Do They Do at Night?
    by Nathaniel

    They make such a racket during the night
    Sometimes I wonder what they do at twilight

    Do they talk?  Do they dig?  Do they play hide-and-seek?
    Oh how I want to take a peek!

    If I Were You
    by Jessica

    If I were you, I would be able to burst into a million colors

    And if you like me, you would throw your colors around me
    As if I were dressed in a rainbow

    You would lift me up into the deep indigo sky and keep me there,
    So I could be a firework too.

    In cooperation with The Poem Farm, Jessica has been writing every day this week about the Fourth of July, and Nathaniel about hermit crabs. (Last Independence Day we actually missed the fireworks. I'm starting to wonder if we scarred Jessica.)

    January 26, 2011

    Our Week with The Poem Farm: Wednesday

    A Haiku by Jessica

    Flying sparks, don’t touch.
    Could burn your hand, ouch, don’t touch.
    Be careful, don’t touch.

    Pick Me
    by Nathaniel

    I'm shinier than the rest
    I'm roomy and colorful

    Clean and sturdy
    I wait for you

    I need you to come to me,
    Little crab

    The sea of my kind
    Blankets the sand

    I am only one in this sea of shells
    Pick me

    January 25, 2011

    Our Week with The Poem Farm: Tuesday

    by Jessica

    Flying in the sky
    A mile high

    Green, pink, and red
    “Holy cow!” I said

    God’s men
    Doing great works of art

    Looking up at colors
    You say, “Amen.”

    I Am a Hermit Crab
    by Nathaniel

    I love to dig
    Tunnel after tunnel
    I love to dig

    I love to climb
    Everything in sight
    I love to climb

    I love to explore
    Every inch of ground
    I love to explore

    Our Week with The Poem Farm: Monday

    Our kids are taking on The Poem Farm's challenge to write seven poems in seven days about one topic.

    Observing a Hermit Crab
    by Nathaniel, 12

    Scuttling down the beach
    And up a rock
    Into the water
    And out again

    Up and down the beach
    Day ‘til night
    Up and down the beach
    Day ‘til night

    The Fourth of July
    by Jessica, 10 and a half

    Red, white, and blue
    Banners passing through

    Laughs and fun
    Laughs and fun
    All my chores are done

    Picnics in grass
    Tubas made of brass

    Lots and lots of fireworks
    Dancing in the sky