Poems needed...

[Cindy!]

I am starting a poetry unit in my 7th grade classes (my 8th graders are doing something else). I have 19 pages of poems ready from a bunch of poems I could think of.

What I need are a few more poems...they do not have to rhyme, but they do have to be at a level that 7th graders can grasp.

Any suggestions???

[krys]

Casey at the Bat - - - the Cremation of Sam McGee

[Ham]

I was always kind of partial to Dr. Seuss rhymes..

[DaddyHoundog]

Jabberwocky

[Cindy!]

Here's what I have now:

I Shall Wear Purple

IF

Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night

Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening

Dream Deferred

My Papa's Waltz

Death

Sonnet CXXX

Annabel Lee

I'm Nobody, Who Are You

I Never Saw a Moor

O Captain! My Captain!

The World is not a Pleasant Place to Be

She Walks in Beauty

The Road Not Taken

Jabberwocky

Life in the Woods

All I Really Need to Know I Learned in Kindergarten

[Belle]

I LOVE ee cummings:

anyone lived in a pretty how town

E. E. Cummings

quote:

anyone lived in a pretty how town

(with up so floating many bells down)

spring summer autumn winter

he sang his didn't he danced his did

Women and men(both little and small)

cared for anyone not at all

they sowed their isn't they reaped their same

sun moon stars rain

children guessed(but only a few

and down they forgot as up they grew

autumn winter spring summer)

that noone loved him more by more

when by now and tree by leaf

she laughed his joy she cried his grief

bird by snow and stir by still

anyone's any was all to her

someones married their everyones

laughed their cryings and did their dance

(sleep wake hope and then)they

said their nevers they slept their dream

stars rain sun moon

(and only the snow can begin to explain

how children are apt to forget to remember

with up so floating many bells down)

one day anyone died i guess

(and noone stooped to kiss his face)

busy folk buried them side by side

little by little and was by was

all by all and deep by deep

and more by more they dream their sleep

noone and anyone earth by april

wish by spirit and if by yes.

Women and men(both dong and ding)

summer autumn winter spring

reaped their sowing and went their came

sun moon stars rain

[laleo]

Cindy!,

Billy Collins put together a collection called Poetry 180, which is geared for high school kids. His idea was to have a poem read each day in school as part of the morning announcements. You might find a few gems among them.

Also, he has a new anthology for the same age group. I haven't looked at it, but I saw it in the bookstore window. I don't remember the title, but it was something like More Poetry 180, or something thereabouts. I'm not sure if it's just contemporary poetry, or if he included some of the classics.

You might want to select poems from a variety of genres -- modern, postmodern, romantic, etc. Also, maybe include a few translations, so your kids will know what is considered poetry in China, Africa, Iran, or wherever.

Let me know what you decide on. I'm interested in hearing your selections.

[Belle]

I also like the whimsy of Shel Silverstein:

Sick

Shel Silverstein

quote:

"I cannot go to school today,"

Said little Peggy Ann McKay.

"I have the measles and the mumps,

A gash, a rash and purple bumps.

My mouth is wet, my throat is dry,

I'm going blind in my right eye.

My tonsils are as big as rocks,

I've counted sixteen chicken pox

And there's one more--that's seventeen,

And don't you think my face looks green?

My leg is cut--my eyes are blue--

It might be instamatic flu.

I cough and sneeze and gasp and choke,

I'm sure that my left leg is broke--

My hip hurts when I move my chin,

My belly button's caving in,

My back is wrenched, my ankle's sprained,

My 'pendix pains each time it rains.

My nose is cold, my toes are numb.

I have a sliver in my thumb.

My neck is stiff, my voice is weak,

I hardly whisper when I speak.

My tongue is filling up my mouth,

I think my hair is falling out.

My elbow's bent, my spine ain't straight,

My temperature is one-o-eight.

My brain is shrunk, I cannot hear,

There is a hole inside my ear.

I have a hangnail, and my heart is--what?

What's that? What's that you say?

You say today is. . .Saturday?

G'bye, I'm going out to play!"

[Belle]

I really like this one! My professor spent a whole day on this poem and the message.

Richard Cory

Edwin Arlington Robinson

quote:

Whenever Richard Cory went down town,

We people on the pavement looked at him:

He was a gentleman from sole to crown,

Clean favored and imperially slim.

And he was always quietly arrayed,

And he was always human when he talked,

But still he fluttered pulses when he said,

"Good-morning," and he glittered when he walked.

And he was rich--yes, richer than a king--

And admirably schooled in every grace:

In fine, we thought that he was everything

To make us wish that we were in his place.

So on we worked, and waited for the light,

And went without the meat and cursed the bread;

And Richard Cory, one calm summer night,

Went home and put a bullet through his head.

[A la prochaine]

Cindy,

How about some music lyrics???

That's poetry put to music.

Maybe take some old stuff they wouldn't necessarily know...but classic stuff at the same time...just an idea.

Sharon,

wow...that's a pretty intense poem.

[coolchef1248 @adelphia.net]

anything by robert frost like who's woods these are.

[dmiller]

quote:

How about some music lyrics???

Ala -- he he he! :D--> :D-->

"The Scotsman"

The Scotsman clad in kilt, left the bar one evening fair.

And one could tell by how he walked, he'd drunk more than his share.

He stumbled round until he could no longer keep his feet,

He lay down beside the road, where he began to sleep.

About that time two young, and lovely ladies happened by.

One said to the other with a twinkle in her eye,

"See yon sleeping Scotsman, so strong and handsome built?

I wonder if it's true what they don't wear beneath the kilt!"

They tiptoed to the Scotsman just as quiet as could be.

Lifted up his kilt about an inch so they could see,

And there behold for them to view, beneath his Scottish skirt,

Was nothing more than God had graced him with upon his birth.

They marveled for a moment, then one said "We must be gone".

Let's leave a present, for our friend, before we move along.

As a gift they left a blue silk ribbon, tied into a bow.

Around the bonny *star* the Scot's kilt did lift and show.

The Scotsman woke to Nature's call, and stumbled toward the trees.

He lifts his kilt, and in surprise, gawks at what he sees.

In a startled voice he says, to what's before his eyes,

"Ah Lad - I don't know where ya been, but I see ya won first prize."

Guess this is NOT something for 7th graders (now that I think about it).

[dmiller]

The most poignant lyrics, coupled with the most compelling tune

I have ever heard is:

"Hard Times" -- by Stephen Foster (7/4/1826 - 1/13/1864).

quote:

He was the author of over 200 songs, and some instrumental pieces. Of the songs, half a dozen rank with the world's greatest ballads, at least 25 of them have become American folksongs, and more than 50 are well worthy of preservation.

He died a broke, destitute man at age 38 of tuberculocous, but before he left -- he gave us Camptown Races, Jeannie with the Light Brown Hair, Oh! Susanna, Old Folks at Home, My Old Kentucky Home, and Hard Times.

quote:

While we seek mirth and beauty and music light and gay,

There are frail forms fainting at the door.

Though their voices are silent, their pleading looks will say

Oh! hard times, come again no more.

Let us pause in life's pleasures and count its many tears,

While we all sup sorrow with the poor.

There's a song that will linger forever in our ears,

Oh! Hard times, come again no more.

Chorus:

'Tis the song, the sigh of the weary,

Hard times, hard times, come again no more.

Many days you have lingered around my cabin door.

Oh Hard times, come again no more

There's a pale drooping maiden who toils her life away

With a worn heart whose better days are o'er.

Though her voice would be merry, 'tis sighing all the day -

Oh! Hard times, come again no more.

Chorus:

'Tis the song, the sigh of the weary,

Hard times, hard times, come again no more.

Many days you have lingered around my cabin door.

Oh Hard times, come again no more

'Tis a sigh that is wafted across the troubled wave,

'Tis a wail that is heard upon the shore,

'Tis a dirge that is murmured around the lowly grave -

Oh! Hard times, come again no more.

Chorus:

'Tis the song, the sigh of the weary,

Hard times, hard times, come again no more.

Many days you have lingered around my cabin door.

Oh Hard times, come again no more.

This has always been, and will always be, my favorite poem put to music.

[karmicdebt]

I have always been partial to

Edna St Vincent Millay (1892-1950)

What lips my lips have kissed, and where, and why,

I have forgotten, and what arms have lain

Under my head till morning; but the rain

Is full of ghosts tonight, that tap and sigh

Upon the glass and listen for reply,

And in my heart there stirs a quiet pain

For unremembered lads that not again

Will turn to me at midnight with a cry.

Thus in winter stands the lonely tree,

Nor knows what birds have vanished one by one,

Yet knows its boughs more silent than before:

I cannot say what loves have come and gone,

I only know that summer sang in me

A little while, that in me sings no more.

and especially Dorothy Parker (1893-1967)

A single flow'r he sent me, since we met.

All tenderly his messenger he chose;

Deep-hearted, pure, with scented dew still wet-

One perfect rose.

I knew the language of the floweret;

"My fragile leaves," it said, "his heart enclose."

Love long has taken for his amulet

One perfect rose.

Why is it no one ever sent me yet

One perfect limousine, do you suppose?

Ah no, it's always just my luck to get

One perfect rose.

[ChasUFarley]

Cindy!

O Captain My Captain has been put to music - I'll see if I can find it for you. It's done by David Broza and absolutely rocks - he doesn't add anything to the lyrics at all so it should be safe for the classroom and might add a nice dimention to the poem. ...

[WordWolf]

What you called "Dream Deferred" is probably

the poem by Langston Hughes,

called "Harlem".

"What happens to a dream deferred?..."

It's quoted at the beginning of "Raisin in the Sun."

[Cindy!]

chas...that would be great!!!

ww...ayup!

[oenophile]

Robert Frost and Carl Sandburg are my favorites

Frost

THE ROAD NOT TAKEN

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,

And sorry I could not travel both

And be one traveler, long I stood

And looked down one as far as I could

To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,

And having perhaps the better claim,

Because it was grassy and wanted wear;

Though as for that the passing there

Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay

In leaves no step had trodden black.

Oh, I kept the first for another day!

Yet knowing how way leads on to way,

I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh

Somewhere ages and ages hence:

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I-

I took the one less traveled by,

And that has made all the difference.

[oenophile]

Perhaps my favorite Frost poem

Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening

Whose woods these are I think I know.

His house is in the village though;

He will not see me stopping here

To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer

To stop without a farmhouse near

Between the woods and frozen lake

The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake

To ask if there is some mistake.

The only other sound's the sweep

Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep.

But I have promises to keep,

And miles to go before I sleep,

And miles to go before I sleep.

[oenophile]

Sandburg on his native City and your adopted city Cindy!

HOG Butcher for the World,

Tool Maker, Stacker of Wheat,

Player with Railroads and the Nation’s Freight Handler;

Stormy, husky, brawling,

City of the Big Shoulders: 5

They tell me you are wicked and I believe them, for I have seen your painted women under the gas lamps luring the farm boys.

And they tell me you are crooked and I answer: Yes, it is true I have seen the gunman kill and go free to kill again.

And they tell me you are brutal and my reply is: On the faces of women and children I have seen the marks of wanton hunger.

And having answered so I turn once more to those who sneer at this my city, and I give them back the sneer and say to them:

Come and show me another city with lifted head singing so proud to be alive and coarse and strong and cunning. 10

Flinging magnetic curses amid the toil of piling job on job, here is a tall bold slugger set vivid against the little soft cities;

Fierce as a dog with tongue lapping for action, cunning as a savage pitted against the wilderness,

Bareheaded,

Shoveling,

Wrecking, 15

Planning,

Building, breaking, rebuilding,

Under the smoke, dust all over his mouth, laughing with white teeth,

Under the terrible burden of destiny laughing as a young man laughs,

Laughing even as an ignorant fighter laughs who has never lost a battle, 20

Bragging and laughing that under his wrist is the pulse. and under his ribs the heart of the people,

Laughing!

Laughing the stormy, husky, brawling laughter of Youth, half-naked, sweating, proud to be Hog Butcher, Tool Maker, Stacker of Wheat, Player with Railroads and Freight Handler to the Nation

[CoolWaters]

As soon as I read it was for 7th graders, I thought...

Rod McKuen!

What Is It?

Cloud formations

on a given day

and wondering

if you've seen them too

are enough to make a morning

pass for me.

Was your day

filled with wanting,

or the needlepoint of knowing

that I waited

and that I wait for you?

I did.

I do.

Swing safely home to me,

come evening.

Make room for me

within your life

and I'll make room for you

within my arms.

If you don't know algebra

or Alice by the the fire,

or even why some roses

fail to climb the wall,

ask the question of me.

Never be afraid to say,

What is it?

----From "Fields of Wonder" © 1970, 1971 by Rod McKuen

Atlas

Don't be afraid

to fall asleep with gypsies

or run with leopards.

As travelers or highwaymen

we should employ

whatever kind of wheels it takes

to make our lives

go smoothly down the road.

And if you love somebody

tell them.

Love's a better roadmap

for trucking down the years

than Rand McNally ever made.

---- from With Love © 1968, 1969, 1970 by Rod McKuen

-----------------------------

7th Grade love just isn't the same without Rod McKuen...sigh...

[oenophile]

Carl Sandburg

THE FOG comes

on little cat feet.

It sits looking

over harbor and city

on silent haunches 5

and then moves on

[J0nny Ling0]

Gunga Din

by Rudyard Kipling

You may talk o' gin an' beer

When you're quartered safe out 'ere,

An' you're sent to penny-fights an' Aldershot it;

But if it comes to slaughter

You will do your work on water,

An' you'll lick the bloomin' boots of 'im that's got it.

Now in Inja's sunny clime,

Where I used to spend my time

A-servin' of 'Er Majesty the Queen,

Of all them black-faced crew,

The finest man I knew

Was our regimental bhisti, Gunga Din.

It was "Din! Din! Din!

You limping lump o' brick-dust, Gunga Din!

Hi! slippy hitherao!

Water, get it! Panee lao!

You squidgy-nosed old idol, Gunga Din!"

The uniform 'e wore

Was nothin' much before,

An' rather less than 'arf o' that be'ind,

For a twisty piece o' rag

An' a goatskin water-bag

Was all the field-equipment 'e could find...

When the sweatin' troop-train lay

In a sidin' through the day,

Where the 'eat would make your bloomin' eyebrows crawl,

We shouted "Harry By!"

Till our throats were bricky-dry,

Then we whopped 'im 'cause 'e couldn't serve us all.

It was "Din! Din! Din!

You 'eathen, where the mischief 'ave you been?

You put some juldee in it,

Or I'll marrow you this minute,

If you don't fill up my helmet, Gunga Din!"

'E would dot an' carry one

Till the longest day was done,

An' 'e didn't seem to know the use o' fear.

If we charged or broke or cut,

You could bet your bloomin' nut,

'E'd be waitin' fifty paces right flank rear.

With 'is mussick on 'is back,

'E would skip with our attack,

An' watch us till the bugles made "Retire."

An' for all 'is dirty 'ide,

'E was white, clear white, inside

When 'e went to tend the wounded under fire!

It was "Din! Din! Din!"

With the bullets kickin' dust-spots on the green. When the cartridges ran out,

You could 'ear the front-files shout:

"Hi! ammunition-mules an' Gunga Din!"

I sha'n't forgit the night

When I dropped be'ind the fight

With a bullet where my belt-plate should 'a' been. I was chokin' mad with thirst,

An' the man that spied me first

Was our good old grinnin', gruntin' Gunga Din.

'E lifted up my 'ead,

An' 'e plugged me where I bled,

An' 'e guv me 'arf-a-pint o' water—green;

It was crawlin' an' it stunk,

But of all the drinks I've drunk,

I'm gratefullest to one from Gunga Din.

It was "Din! Din! Din!

'Ere's a beggar with a bullet through 'is spleen; 'E's chawin' up the ground an' 'e's kickin' all around: For Gawd's sake, git the water, Gunga Din!"

'E carried me away

To where a dooli lay,

An' a bullet come an' drilled the beggar clean.

'E put me safe inside, An' just before 'e died:

"I 'ope you liked your drink," sez Gunga Din.

So I'll meet 'im later on

In the place where 'e is gone—

Where it's always double drill and no canteen;

'E'll be squattin' on the coals

Givin' drink to poor damned souls,

An' I'll get a swig in Hell from Gunga Din!

Din! Din! Din!

You Lazarushian-leather Gunga Din!

Tho' I've belted you an' flayed you,

By the livin' Gawd that made you,

You're a better man than I am, Gunga Din!

That poem always makes me cry. I recited it by memory in 7th grade in 1969

[sharon]

my son's contribution:

by Kathy Kenney-Marshall

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

My daddy snores and sucks his toes.

My brother likes to lick his nose.

My doggy meows, my kitten barks.

My goldfish chases sticks in parks.

My sister walks while upside down.

My mother hops all over town.

Her skin is purple, don't you know.

And I am green from head to toe.

My dad is red, my sister's blue.

My brother's yellow; yes, it's true.

We all wear raincoats in the sun

And gobble lima beans for fun.

We're very special, can't you see?

We're just a normal family!

[tcat5]

When I was in 6th grade my teacher read "The Highway Man" to us.I still love it.And have now passed it down to my kidlet. She is now 14 and still has me read it to her.