Here’s what to do with “The Big Field” by Donald
• Graves.
Mr. Gammons mows the big field with his tractor, then rakes and bundles hay for the barn. George and I grab our bats, gloves, and balls and race across the field like major leaguers in spring training. We hit long flies to each other all afternoon, never lose a ball in the stubble, and don’t stop until Mother calls us for supper.

• The Big Field
• Mr. Gammons mows the big field
• with his tractor,
• then rakes and bundles
• hay for the barn.
• George and I
• grab our bats,
• gloves, and balls
• and race across the filed
• like major leaguers
• in spring training.
• We hit long flies
• to each other
• all afternoon,
• never lose a ball
• in the stubble,
• and don’t stop
• until Mother calls
• us for supper.
• - Donald Graves

Line Breaks – click for sample

That Reminds Me
I was sitting by a stream
When I saw a grasshopper hop from a rock
And land on the other side
And it reminded me of how we used to jump
Across the puddles in the driveway
After a summer rain-
Except the grasshopper didn’t get all wet-
And didn’t get the giggles.
I was sitting on the porch
When I saw a squirrel in the weeping willow tree
Vaulting through the air
To anther limb
And it reminded me of how we used to tie ourselves
Into the lows branches of that tree
And run
And swing
Up off the ground
We were like flying squirrels
I was lying on my back in the grass
When I saw a maple leaf fall off a high branch
And float in the wind
Out past the top of my head
And it reminded me of the time our kite string broke
And the kite soared out over the top of the hill
And we never saws it again
I still think about that old kite
And it reminds me of you
•
•
•
-Will Mowery

•
•
Walking With My Iguana
.I’m walking with my iguana
I’m walking with my iguana
When the temperature rises to above eighty-five, my iguana is looking like he’s coming alive.
So we make it to the beach, my iguana and me, then he sits on my shoulder as we stroll by the sea. . .
and I’m walking with my iguana
Well if anyone sees us we’re a big surprise, my iguana and me on our daily exercise, till somebody phones the local police says I’ve got an alligator tied to a leash.
when I’m walking with my iguana
I’m walking with my iguana
It’s the spines on his back that make him look grim, but he just loves to be tickled under his chin.
And I know that my iguana is ready for bed when he puts on his pyjamas and lays down his sleepy head.
And I’m walking with my iguana still walking with my iguana
With my iguana with my iguana and my piranha and my Chihuahua and my chinchilla, with my gorilla, my caterpillar… and I’m walking… with my iguana… with my iguana… with my iguana…
You can hear it at this website.
http://www.poetryarchive.org/poetryarchive/singlePoem.do?poemId=52

•
• Pencil Sharpener
• By Zoe Ryder White
• I think there are a hundred bees
• inside the pencil sharpener
• and they buzz
• and buzz
• and buzz
•
• until my point is sharp!
•
• Ceiling
• By Zoe Ryder White
• The ceiling
• is the sky
• for the classroom

• Bear In There by Shel Silverstein
• There's a Polar Bear
In our Frigidaire--
He likes it 'cause it's cold in there.
With his seat in the meat
And his face in the fish
And his big hairy paws
In the buttery dish,
He's nibbling the noodles,
He's munching the rice,
He's slurping the soda,
He's licking the ice.
And he lets out a roar
If you open the door.
And it gives me a scare
To know he's in there--
That Polary Bear
In our Fridgitydaire.

The Tree On The Corner by Lilian Moore
I’ve seen the tree on the corner in spring bud and summer green.
Yesterday it was yellow gold.
Then a cold wind began to blow.
Now I know – you really do not see a tree until you see its bones

• Umbrellas
• by Maxine W. Kumin
• It’s raining in the city.
I hope it rains for hours.
All of the umbrellas
Open up like flowers.
• Come look out my window!
Polka dots in lines
Wag their stems and
Tilt to read the signs.
• Plaid ones cross at corners
Striped ones wave about.
It’s raining in the city;
• The flowers have come out

Crickets, Valerie Worth
Crickets
Talk
In the tall
Grass
All
Late summer
Long.
When
Summer
Is gone,
The dry
Grass
Whispers
Alone.

Some lovely small poems by Valerie Worth: chairs
Chairs
Seem
To
Sit
Down
On
Themselves, almost as if
They were people,
Some fat, some thin;
Settled comfortably
On their own seats,
Some even stretch out their arms
To
Rest.
.
sun
The sun
Is a leaping fire
Too hot
To go near,
But it will still
Lie down
In warm yellow squares
On the floor
Like a flat
Quilt, where
The cat can curl
And purr.

The Poem that Got Away–By Felice Holman
There I was and in it came
Through the fogbank of my brain
From the fastness of my soul
Shining like a glowing coal –
The nearly perfect poem!
Oh, it may have needed just
An alteration here or there—
A little tuck, a little seam
To be exactly what I mean –
The really perfect poem
I’ll write it later on, I said,
The idea’s clear and so’s my head.
This pen I have is nearly dry.
What I’ll do now is finish this pie,
Then on to the perfect poem!
With pen in hand quite full of ink
I try not to recall.
I’ve plenty of time in which to think
But the poem went down the kitchen sink
With the last of the perfect pie.

safety pin
Valerie Worth
Closed, it sleeps
On its side
Quietly,
The silver
Image
Of some
Small fish;
Opened, it snaps
Its tail out
Like a thin
Shrimp, and looks
At the sharp
Point with a
Surprised eye

DANDELION - by Valerie Worth
Out of
Green space,
A sun:
Bright for
A day, burning
Away to
A husk, a
Cratered moon:
Burst
In a week
To dust:
Seeding
The infinitie
Lawn with
Its starry
Smithereens.

Spring Seeds
By: Douglas Florian
Spring Seeds
We tilled the earth,
Took out the weeds,
Then in the soil
Planted seeds:
Pumpkin,
Parsely,
Carrot,
Pea,
Spring succeeds ex-seed-ing-ly.

• Baseball Cards #1
• BY JIM DANIELS
• One of the 10,342 baseball cards in my parents’ attic sneezes in the dampness, remembers sweaty hands.
• He calls to me across hundreds of miles:
• Remember me, Jake Wood, 1964, 2nd base, Detroit Tigers,
Series 2, No. 272?
• He wants to stretch his legs, climb out from between Wilbur Wood and the 4th Series Checklist wants to outsail all the other cards in a game of farthies, float down on Jose Tartabull in a game of tops.
He wants to smell like fresh from the pack wants to be perfumed again with the pink smell of bubble gum.

October Saturday
All the leaves have turned to cornflakes.
It looks as if some giant’s baby brother had tipped the box and scattered them upon our lawnmillions and millions of cornflakescrunching, crunching under our feet.
When the wind blows, they rattle against each other, nervously chattering.
We rake them into piles-
Dad and I.
Piles and piles of cornflakes!
A breakfast for a whole family of giants!
We do not talk much as we rake-
A word here-
A word there.
The leaves are never silent.
Inside the house my mother is packing
Short sleeved shirts and faded bathing suits-
Rubber clogs and flippers-
In a box marked SUMMER.
We are raking
Dad and I.
Bobbi Ka

Inside My Heart by Zoe Ryder White
Inside my heart lives one birthday party two jazz bands three wrestling puppies four dancing birds five laughing babies six blasting spaceships seven lucky fireflies and a sky full of stars

• Falling Leaves
• by Jack Prelutsky
• Little leaves fall softly down
Red and yellow, orange and brown
Whirling, twirling round and round
Falling softly to the ground
• Little leaves fall softly down
To make a carpet on the ground.
Then, swish, the wind comes whistling by
And sends them dancing to the sky.

When the Roses Revolted When the Roses
Revolted
The roses were fed up.
They were sick sick sick of being symbols for love.
One night they revolted, crept out of flower shops, jumped out of windows and touched the dirt!
They spent that night drinking real night air, carousing with clover, boogying with bluebells, dancing with dandelions, and in this way they rediscovered their roots.
~ Ralph Fletcher

Fog by Carl Sandburg
The fog comes on little cat feet.
It sits looking over harbor and city on silent haunches and then moves on.

Some one by Walter De la Mare.
Some one came knocking
At my wee, small door;
Someone came knocking;
I'm sure-sure-sure;
I listened, I opened,
I looked to left and right,
But nought there was a stirring
In the still dark night;
Only the busy beetle
Tap-tapping in the wall,
Only from the forest
The screech-owl's call,
Only the cricket whistling
While the dewdrops fall,
So I know not who came knocking,
At all, at all, at all.

DREAMS by Langston Hughes
Hold fast to dreams
For if dreams die
Life is a broken-winged bird
That cannot fly.
Hold fast to dreams
For when dreams go
Life is a barren field
Frozen with snow.

The Tree On The Corner by Lilian Moore
I’ve seen the tree on the corner in spring bud and summer green.
Yesterday it was yellow gold.
Then a cold wind began to blow.
Now I know – you really do not see a tree until you see its bones.

PAPER CLIPS
By Rebecca Kai Dotlich
With tiny teeth of tin they take one slender breath before they make a move, and then --a silver pinch!
With jaws no bigger than an inch these dragon grips are small and slight --but conquer pages with one bite!

City
In the morning the city
Spreads its wings
Making a song
In stone that sings.
In the evening the city
Goes to bed
Hanging lights
About its head.
Langston Hughes

April Rain Song
BY LANGSTON HUGHES
Let the rain kiss you.
Let the rain beat upon your head with silver liquid drops.
Let the rain sing you a lullaby.
The rain makes still pools on the sidewalk.
The rain makes running pools in the gutter.
The rain plays a little sleep-song on our roof at night—
And I love the rain.

Who has seen the wind
Who has seen the wind?
Neither I nor you;
But when the leaves hang trembling
The wind is passing through.
Who has seen the wind?
Neither you nor I;
But when the trees bow down their heads
The wind is passing by.

Hold fast to dreams,
For if dreams die
Life is a broken-winged bird
That cannot fly.
Hold fast to dreams,
For when dreams go
Life is a barren field
Frozen with snow.

• THIS TOOTH\
• by Lee Bennett Hopkins
I jiggled it jaggled it jerked it.
I pushed and pulled and poked it.
But--
As soon as I stopped and left it alone,
This tooth came out on its very own!

In Autumn
Fannie Montgomery
They're coming down in showers,
The leaves all gold and red;
They're covering the little flowers,
And tucking them in bed.
They've spread a fairy carpet
All up and down the street;
And when we skip along to school,
They rustle 'neath our feet.

• Closing Day Thought
I wonder if our schoolbooks are lonely all the day
While through the long vacation in cupboards put away?
I wonder if the blackboard seems rather out of place
Without a single piece of chalk to mark upon its face?
I wonder if the schoolroom is sometimes lonely, too
While standing bare and empty without a thing to do?
But this we can assure them.
When summer days all flee
We'll join them in September and keep them company.
-Leland B. Jacobs

Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
BY ROBERT FROST 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.

• 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 marked 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.
• Robert Frost