Happy National Poetry Everyone! As you may or may not know, April is national poetry month and we are CELEBRATING! There's a box in the library where you can put your poems, artwork or other writing. What will happen to this box you may ask? Well, it will be put into a Gould newspaper! Anything that's posted on this blog will also go in so every writer at Gould can be published. I am very excited.
I am also excited about Thursday on which there will be THREE ways to celebrate National Poetry Month. First, April 14 is national poem in your pocket day. What this means is that everyone will be encouraged to put a poem in their pocket and over the course of the day they can trade and share that poem. Second, on Thursday the biggest library taboo will be broken and we'll have eat-your-lunch-and-write-in-the-library-day. Hopefully this will be an every Thursday event for the rest of the month. And the last way to celebrate poetry this Thursday is a van will be headed to hear Charles Simic at PSU. I've read some of his poems and I think the night will be great! Talk to Ms. Cooper if you're interested.
Of course you don't have to wait until Thursday to start the celebration. Write a poem today! Write a poem right now. Drop everything and get started.
And then post it here of course. And tell your friends too.
HAPPY NATIONAL POETRY MONTH
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Who are you?
ReplyDeleteI know who I am.
I am the one you see laughing and smiling,
all to myself.
I am the one who will go barefoot,
wearing a t-shirt and shorts,
in the middle of a thunderstorm,
with rain all around.
Who are you?
I am the one who giggles at the feeling
of the soft damp earth between my toes.
I am the one who likes gardening,
if only for the dangling roots,
if only for the sweet dirt that falls from my fingers.
Who are you?
I am she who loves the book,
she who loves the song,
she who loves the brook,
and she who loves the sun
(if only for the life it gives).
Just who exactly are you?
I know exactly who I am.
Do you?
Last Night
ReplyDeleteby Gigi
Last night
all I saw was moons and stars.
Flickering over a thumbtacked curtain,
running along smooth wood panels,
outlines undulating in little waves
that drag behind sailboats in salty harbors,
spinning, in the back of my mind
they never stop
spinning, shadows cast on a low angled ceiling
like long thin leaves that extend, peak, twirl on,
dancing over twin silhouettes
that move with the same smooth dizziness-
all I saw was moons and stars.
Some moments are like half-remembered dreams
or like a palmful of clear water;
they won’t be had.
Even during those minutes
or hours, I don’t even know-
that we lay there
half awake, almost dreaming,
you can’t have ones like that.
So they slip away,
leave just a watery footprint,
to be covered by waves
and revealed every time
a little less solid, less there,
less had
until all you have left is the sand in your shoes
and pink-cold toes
and moons and stars behind your eyes.
No, I can’t have that memory, but it’s got me;
I’m lost in last night
like those little shells caught
in the frothy surf where it breaks on the shore--
anchored to it,
the way the enkindling moon and its host of giddy stars
are to the impossible, eternal cradle
of the nighttime, summertime sky