Seven Impossible Things Before Breakfast

*{Note: Read here at Chicken Spaghetti for today’s Poetry Friday round-up} . . .

Happy Poetry Friday, everyone.

We had our first snow of the season Monday. We’re having a bit more today. It’s almost winter, and it seems especially sudden after such a mild autumn. The leaves are gone, the radiators are clanging and hissing, all the stores have their snow shovels on display… It’s funny, but the same thing happens to me every year around this time. I get a couple of lines stuck in my head from this poem, only I can never actually remember the rest of the poem, or the poet.  Just these words:

The sunlight on the garden
Hardens and grows cold

But every time I step outside to that sort of frigid bright winter sunlight – the kind that looks plenty warm from inside, but always comes with that fierce, inhuman New England wind – those lines pop into my head. And then they kind of scroll around in my brain on autoplay, over and over, until I have to look it up. And I discover (again) that the title is, in fact, “The Sunlight on the Garden.” And it’s by Louis MacNeice, an Irish-born poet and playwright from the first half of the 20th century. And I discover (again) how achingly lovely this poem is, and why the imagery stays with me year after year:

The sunlight on the garden
Hardens and grows cold,
We cannot cage the minute
Within its nets of gold;
When all is told
We cannot beg for pardon.

Here’s the rest of the poem. Enjoy, and have a lovely day.

*{Note: Read here at Big A little a’s site for today’s Poetry Friday round-up. And to read a thumbs-up review of another of Kulikov’s illustrated picture books, be sure to read the review at the top of that link, Kelly’s thoughts on Betty Lou Blue by Nancy Crocker} . . .

In a fairly recent Poetry Friday post, I told you about a picture book that is not written in rhyme and not a poetry anthology of any sort — The Boy Who Loved Words by Roni Schotter and illustrated by Giselle Potter, published in March of this year. But I chose it for Poetry Friday, because — chances are — if you love poetry, you love words. And here, I wrote, is a picture book for you. Well, along came the über-talented Kate Banks in August of this year to bring us Max’s Words, illustrated by Boris Kulikov — which, I’m happy to humbly suggest, is what you can read right after you read Schotter’s book. The Boy Who Loved Words rejoices in those marvelous morphemes. And Banks’ cunning, playful book rejoices in putting those wayward, winning words together to make our savory sentences and unique, little units of meaning; our beguiling stories; our shapely, pleasing poems. Ah, how sweet it is . . .

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*{Note: Today’s Poetry Friday round-up is at A Chair, A Fireplace and a Tea Cozy} . . .

Hello, Dear Readers.  Happy day-after-Thanksgiving.  Did you all make it through okay?  Personally, I’m having trouble reaching past my tummy to the keyboard, but I’m okay with that.

I’ve been thinking this morning about Thanksgiving, and its place in the Fall-to-Winter holiday continuum.  Julie was right, it is a very nice holiday, all about taking time to recognize what’s most important to us – family, friends, and the pleasures of home and hearth.  I think it’s become a way to galvanize us, too, for the uberstressful capital-H-Holiday season.  In a few weeks, when we’ve been fighting crowds in malls and standing in checkout lines for days on the quest to get exactly the right gifts for those we care about, we can look back on Thanksgiving, remember being surrounded by those very same loved ones, maybe eating a fabulous pecan pie baked by the very relative whose name we are currently cursing because she is so very hard to shop for – and take a breath, and remember why we’re putting ourselves through this, why we do it over and over again every year:  love.

I may only be thinking in these terms because my husband and I didn’t go home this Thanksgiving.  We live literally a thousand miles away from our extended families, and just don’t make it to Tennessee for every holiday.  We still cooked up a big meal, though, and we made the dishes that remind us of home.  (Okay, so we bought the pecan pie.  I can’t do it as well as my mom, but Whole Foods is pretty close.)  So I’m feeling very nostalgic right now.  And that may be why, when I went to my pile of Cybil Poetry nominees to choose one to write about, I was drawn to the Barefoot Book of Classic Poems, compiled and illustrated by Jackie Morris.

If I were stranded on a desert island and could only take one book of poetry with me, this would not be a bad choice at all.  Read the rest of this entry �

*{Note: Visit Chicken Spaghetti for this week’s Poetry Friday round-up} . . .

For this Poetry Friday, I’ll briefly mention three new children’s poetry anthologies that are out, but I want to begin with Tony DiTerlizzi’s handsome new picture book, G is for One Gzonk!: An Alpha-number-bet Book, written in rhyming text as a tribute to the nonsensical rhymes of Dr. Seuss and Edward Lear. We meet DiTerlizzi’s alter ego, Tiny DiTerlooney, our young author/illustrator of this book, who tells us to “{s}ay goodbye to boring books/ where ‘bears can bounce a ball’/ and turn the page/ I’ve set the stage/ and nothing makes sense at all,” as he creates his “masterpiece” of an alphabet book. Yes, this is for all of you who have read so many alphabet books that you find yourself immediately wondering what the author could possibly come up with for letters “X” and “Z,” assuming it will be “xylophone” and “zebra” or “zoo.”

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*{Note: Visit Journey Woman for this week’s Poetry Friday round-up} . . .

Howdy, strangers.  I know, it’s been a while.  As Julie mentioned, I’ve been kinda busy with school lately, and haven’t been posting nearly as often as I’d like to.  But thanks to Mistress Cybil, I’ve definitely been reading a LOT of excellent poetry for children.  I thought I’d use my share of the Poetry Fridays to highlight some of the nominees that I’ve been especially tickled about.  For example:

Hey There, Stink Bug!  by Leslie Bulion, illustrated by Leslie Evans.  This book is a complete package – excellent linoleum block-and-watercolor illustrations (love them, LOVE THEM!!!); clever, fun, and largely read-out-loud-able poetry; and fascinating facts about insects sure to please the budding entomologist, or anyone who likes trivia of the gross-out variety.  For example, did you know that aphids reproduce asexually, and already have new live aphids developing inside them when they’re born?!?  And that skipper caterpillars can “force-fire” their own poop over three feet away?!?  Dude… that’s just nasty.

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*{Note: Visit here at Big A little a for this week’s Poetry Friday round-up} . . .

Chances are, if you love poetry, you love words. “Lickety-split,” “tremulously,” “chockablock,” and “aflutter” . . . they just roll rhythmically and wondrously off the ‘ol tongue, huh? So, here’s a book for you: The Boy Who Loved Words by Roni Schotter and illustrated by Giselle Potter (and who doesn’t love Giselle Potter and her rather postmodern-folksy illustrations that seem to get better with each book). Published in March of this year, this is an irresistible book about the joy of words (also featuring a poet-in-peril for those of you who need a stronger tie-in for Poetry Friday). I promise I have children’s poetry anthologies sitting in my lap here; it’s just that this charming picture book about the love of words made me think of the love of poetry and gives me a slightly different take on Poetry Friday this week. Plus, I love any book with the word “macaroons” in it. Yum.

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*{Note: Today’s Poetry Friday round-up is at A Chair, A Fireplace and a Tea Cozy} . . .

“It is not poetry’s fault that it has so small an audience, so little effect upon the frightened, money-loving world. Poetry, after all, is not a miracle. It is an effort to formalize (ritualize) individual moments and the transcending effects of these moments into a music that all can use. It is the song of our species.” — Mary Oliver

It’s my turn to post a lil’ something for Poetry Friday. But Julie had found that Mary Oliver quote and tossed it my way, and I agreed it needed to be shared. I mean, if you’re bothering to read this, you probably don’t need a justification for the existence of poetry. But it’s true, not everyone gets it. Read the rest of this entry �

*{Note: Visit here at Chicken Spaghetti for this week’s Poetry Friday round-up} . . .

Did Eisha and I mention last week that we’re thrilled to finally be participating in Poetry Fridays? We really are. Eisha was looking forward to composing this week’s poetry post, but she is unable to and so I will humbly be doing so again. This week’s selection is not from the realm of children’s poetry, but we promise to get to that soon (not that it’s a requirement . . . I just don’t want to seem as if we’re neglecting all the wonderful poetry for children out there).

This week’s selection is Louise Glück’s most recent anthology of poetry, Averno, which was announced on the 11th of this month as a 2006 National Book Award Finalist in Poetry. Read the rest of this entry �

*{Note: Head on over to A Chair, A Fireplace and a Tea Cozy for this week’s Poetry Friday round-up} . . .

Hi there. Jules and Eisha here again . . .

There’s, apparently, this tradition in some parts of the world of blogging-about-books in which poetry is shared and celebrated every week on Friday. And in the world of blogging-about-children’s-books, in particular, this not only occurs but also some of the authors of some of our favorite blogs — including Big A little a — do a nice round-up of the poetry selected for that week (we mention her, in particular, as a way to thank her as well for answering our questions about Poetry Friday). Eisha and I have always been big ‘ol poetry geeks. I mean, reeeally. We used to leave random literature excerpts in one another’s campus mailboxes in college (back in The Day before this new-fangled thing we call electronic mail), calling it our Literature Exchange — favorite passages from our favorite novels, maybe even play excerpts, even kickin’ song lyrics, but most of the time, poetry. Not our original creations, mind you, but hand-copies of our favorites, left for one another to brighten a day or at least make it a bit more thought-provoking, a Dylan Thomas here and a Rilke there (I still have my handwritten poems from Eisha. Aw!). So, we have decided to join the Poetry Friday fun. This means: a poem, a review of a poetry anthology, and/or some such poetry-related thing — each Friday (if we’re organized enough). Woo hoo! Share the news with your part of the world!

Jules: I have the honor (thanks to Eisha) of picking the poem for our first Poetry Friday entry . . . Read the rest of this entry �