Pout
By Sara Holbrook
No use
acting nice to me
when I’m stuck
in a pout.
I can’t let your
niceness in
until my mad
wears
out.
Cocoon
By Betsy Rosenthal
I’m wrapped up in my
flowered spread,
ready for
the night ahead.
Through the blinds
are hints of moon;
a million stars
will be here soon.
I hum myself
a gentle tune,
and drift to sleep
in my cocoon.
At the Library
By Nikki Grimes
I flip the pages of a book and slip inside
where crystal seas await and pirates hide.
I find a paradise where birds can talk,
where children fly and trees prefer to walk.
Sometimes I end up on a city street.
I recognize the brown-skin girl I meet.
She’s skinny, but she’s strong, and brave,
and wise.
I smile because I see me in her eyes
Room Doom
By Douglas Florian
My mother said to clean my room
And then to sweep the floor.
I’m in a funk…
There’s so much junk…
I can’t get in the door.
Hope is the thing with feathers
Hip Hop Rules the World
By Emily Dickinson
By Jacqueline Woodson
Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune without the words,
And never stops at all
And sweetest - in the Gale - is heard And sore must be the storm That could abash the little Bird
That kept so many warm I’ve heard it in the chillest land And on the strangest Sea Yet - never - in Extremity,
It asked a crumb - of me.
Bursting
By Dorothy Aldis
We’ve laughed until my cheeks are tight.
We’ve laughed until my stomach’s sore.
If we could only stop we might
Remember what we’re laughing for.
Hip Hop Rules the World, Lamont said
grinning like somebody had told him
he’s just won the lotto.
But all it was was Ms. Marcus saying
Of course rap is poetry!
One of the most creative forms.
So now Lamont’s writing lyrics
and bopping his head
and every chance he gets
saying
Hip Hop Rules the World
and
It’s one of the most creative forms
and
Hey Dog! Guess who else is a poet now?
Allow Me to Introduce Myself
By Charles R. Smith Jr.
They call me
the show stopper
the dime dropper
the spin-move-to-the-left
reverse jam poppa.
The high flier
on the high wire.
The intense rim-rattlin’
noise amplifier.
The net-shaker
Back board break
Creator
Of the funk dunk
Hip-shaker.
The Man
Sir Slam
The Legend
I be.
That’s just a few of the
names they call me.
Me
(an excerpt)
By Elizabeth Swados
Me me me me
No one else but me!
Me me my mine
No one else could shine so fine!
Me me me me, mine mine mine mine
Number one all of the time.
Numero Uno! Yo! It’s me,
I’m the one I want to be,
Me myself me and I
I’m no one else, don’t want to try.
Brazilian Footballer
By Faustin Charles
Pelè kicked in his mother’s belly!
And the world shouted:
Gooooooooooooooooooooooooooal!
When her son was born,
He became the sun,
And rolled on the fields of heaven
The moon and the stars trained and coached him
In the Milky Way
He swayed, danced, and dribbled
Smooth like water off a duck’s back
Ready always to attack.
One hot day, heaven fell down, floored!
Through the Almighty’s hands
Pelè had scored!
Music for Fun and Profit
(an excerpt) By Gary Soto
Music is fun,
And it’s also for profit.
Every time I bring out
My shoe-box guitar,
My oatmeal drum,
My harmonica comb
With its skirt
Of wax paper,
Or especially my kazoo,
Papi shakes his head and
growls. He rattles
His newspaper and yells
¡Por favor, callate!
He punches his fist
Into his pocket
And brings out
A quarter or a dime,
And I run away
With the music
Of money jingling
In my pocket.
Fun and profit!
Already I’m the lead
singer
Of my own band.
Changing Classes
By Kristine O’Connell George
As soon as the bell rings,
Students pour out the doors,
Surging down the halls,
Shoving, jostling, dodging,
in a roar of voices.
Pushing forward, I weave
In, out, and among
A thousand others,
Feeling as if
I’m swimming upstream.
Being a Tree
By Opal Palmer Adisa
One time
I stood on the arm of the sofa
Balancing on one leg
My arms spread wide
Like branches.
I was a gigantic tree
In the deep green forest.
Many birds sat on my branches
Chirping their happy songs.
Small animals nestled by my trunk
Prancing and playing, being free.
And just as a blue jay
Was about to land on my branch
Mom shouted, “Be careful!”
The blue jay flew away,
I fell, and my tree toppled over.
Brooms
By Dorothy Aldis
On stormy days
When the wind is high,
Tall trees are brooms
Sweeping the sky.
They swish their branches
In buckets of rain
And swash and sweep it
Blue again.
Miracles
(an excerpt)
By Walt Whitman
Why, who makes much of a miracle?
As to me I know of nothing else but
miracles,
Whether I walk the streets of Manhattan,
Or dart my sight over the roofs of houses
toward the sky,
Or wade with naked feet along the beach
just in the edge of the water,
Or stand under trees in the woods,
Or talk by day with any one I love …
Eagle Flight
By Alonzo Lopez
An eagle wings gracefully
through the sky.
On the earth I stand
and watch.
My heart flies with it.
Places to Hide a
Secret Message
By Eve Merriam
in a raindrop on a windowpane
in a moon shell
in a raisin in rice pudding
Books
(an excerpt)
By Eloise Greenfield
I’ve got
books on the bunk bed
books on the chair
books on the couch
And every old where
But I want more books
just can’t get enough
want more books about
All kinds of stuff, like
Jackie’s troubles, Raymond’s joys
Rabbits, kangaroos, Girls and Boys
Mountains, valleys, Winter, spring
Campfires, vampires
Every old thing …
The Swallow
By Christina Rossetti
Fly away, fly away, over the sea
Sun-loving swallow, for summer is done.
Come again, come again, come back to me,
Bringing the summer and bringing the sun.
Dream Variation
By Langston Hughes
To fling my arms wide
In some place of the sun,
To whirl and to dance
Till the white day is done.
Then rest at cool evening
Beneath a tall tree
While night comes on gently,
Dark like me –
That is my dream! To fling my arms wide
In the face of the sun,
Dance! Whirl! Whirl!
Till the quick day is done.
Rest at pale evening . . .
A tall, slim tree . . .
Night coming tenderly
Black like me.
maggie and milly and molly and may
By E.E. Cummings
maggie and milly and molly and may
went down to the beach (to play one day)
and maggie discovered a shell that sang
so sweetly she couldn’t remember her troubles, and
milly befriended a stranded star
whose rays five languid fingers were;
and molly was chased by a horrible thing
which raced sideways while blowing bubbles: and
may came home with a smooth round stone
as small as a world and as large as alone.
For whatever we lose (like a you or a me)
it’s always ourselves we find in the sea
The Raven
(an excerpt)
By Edgar Allen Poe
Once upon a midnight dreary, while I
pondered, weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of
forgotten lore—
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly
there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at
my chamber door—
“ ‘Tis some visitor,” I muttered, “tapping
at my chamber door—
Only this and nothing more.”
Since Hanna Moved Away
By Judith Voirst
The tires on my bike are flat.
The sky is grouchy gray.
At least it sure feels like that
Since Hanna moved away.
Chocolate ice cream tastes like prunes.
December’s come to stay.
They’ve taken back the Mays and Junes
Since Hanna moved away.
Flowers smell like halibut.
Velvet feels like hay.
Every handsome dog’s a mutt
Since Hanna moved away.
Nothing’s fun to laugh about.
Nothing’s fun to play.
They call me, but I won’t come out
Since Hanna moved away.
I am offering this poem to
you (an excerpt)
By Jimmy Santiago Baca
I am offering this poem to you,
since I have nothing else to give.
Keep it like a warm coat
when winter comes over you,
Or like a pair of thick socks
the cold cannot bite through,
I love you,
I have nothing else to give you,
so it is a pot full of yellow corn
to warm your belly in winter,
it is a scarf for our head, to wear
over your hair, to tie up around your face,
I love you …
The Rose That Grew
From Concrete
Love that Boy
(an excerpt)
By Walter Dean Myers
By Tupac Shakur
Did you hear about the rose that grew
from a crack in the concrete?
Proving nature's law is wrong it
learned to walk without having feet.
Funny it seems, but by keeping its dreams,
it learned to breathe fresh air.
Long live the rose that grew from concrete
when no one else ever cared.
Nothing Gold Can Stay
By Robert Frost
Nature’s first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf’s a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf.
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day.
Nothing gold can stay.
Love that boy,
like a rabbit loves to run
I said I love that boy
like a rabbit loves to run
Love to call him in the morning
love to call him
‘Hey there, son!’
He walk like his Grandpa,
Grins like his Uncle Ben.
I said he walk like his Grandpa,
And grins like his Uncle Ben.
Grins when he's happy,
When he sad, he grins again
This Is Just To Say
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
Sun is Laughing (an excerpt)
By Grace Nichols
This morning she got up
on the happy side of bed,
pulled back
the gray sky-curtains
and poked her head
through the blue window
of heaven,
her yellow laughter spilling over,
falling broad across the grass,
brightening the washing on the line,
giving more shine
to the back of a ladybug
and buttering up all the world.
Try Again (an excerpt)
The Powwow Drum
(an excerpt) By David Campbell
Long black braids and silken shawls
Moving side by side where the eagle calls.
Answering the beat of the powwow drum
we come again
to dance again
Hey-a, Hey-a, Hey-a, Hey-a, Hey!
Hey-a, Hey-a, Hey-a, Hey-a, Hey!
Leave the dusty cities far behind,
Meet our brothers of the country with one mind,
Traveling from the east, north, south, and west
we come again
to dance again
First Signature
By Anonymous
By Angela Shannon
‘Tis a lesson you should heed,
Try, try, try again;
If at first you don’t succeed,
Try, try, try again.
Marking them all over
The turquoise walls,
Adora practices her Xs.
They are hundreds of blackbirds
taking flight. She draws a vee
on top and a v on the bottom,
a v on bottom and on top.
Once or twice though you should fail,
Try again;
If you would at last prevail,
Try again.
If we strive, ‘tis no disgrace
Though we may not win the race;
What should you do in that case?
Try again.
Where slanted lines come together,
she is balancing the spark
meeting in the middle,
dreaming a proper name.
In her scribbling, victory,
victory above us
and victory below.
Today is Poem in Your
Pocket Day!
Today is Poem in Your
Pocket Day!
This poem is brought to
you by the Media Center.
This poem is brought to
you by the Media Center.
Read it and then trade
poems with a friend!
Read it and then trade
poems with a friend!
Today is Poem in Your
Pocket Day!
Today is Poem in Your
Pocket Day!
This poem is brought to
you by the Media Center.
This poem is brought to
you by the Media Center.
Read it and then trade
poems with a friend!
Read it and then trade
poems with a friend!