I put the PRO in procrastination
Odes are poems that celebrate a particular person, place, or thing. Writing an ode is an easy way to ease kids into the art of writing poetry. Click here if you’re a teacher or home-school parent wanting to know more about how to teach this writing lesson.
Eyelids close
Hands go limp
Image via Wikipedia
Mind goes numb
This is where it
gets tricky
I try to
count sheep
big, woolly
sheep but
usually I just
worry about
everything
while the hours
tick by.
By Celeste, 10th grade
Image by Teo via Flickr
Oh, how I love nuts
almonds and pecans
walnuts and cashews
and even those hard
Brazil nuts that make
my jaw hurt and my
teeth break off and
my head ache.
By Tim, 10
Image via Wikipedia
When I wake up on Friday morning
there’s a dance in my step
cuz I know it’s almost the weekend
and I’m really full of pep
I run out of the front door
and all the way to school
not thinking of my homework
just feeling really cool
I hope you woke up happy
but in case you don’t feel gay
Just remember that it’s Friday
and I know you’ll be okay!
By Kathy, age 11
Image by roger4336 via Flickr
When WITS writers teach a lesson, they don’t have to look far for inspiration. WITS writers understand that everything in the world is up for grabs when it comes to engaging subject matter. We encourage children to look at the world around them and pick objects and activities that resonate with what they like to do.
I remember one 3rd grade boy named Sebastian who could never think of new subject matter. He often complained that he didn’t want to write “dumb poems about flowers and stars.” So, I asked him what he liked to do and found out he loves to ride his bike. The following week I brought him a poem called “Ode to Bicycles” by Pablo Neruda. Neruda’s poem didn’t have a magical effect on Sebastian’s poetic output (he still had a hard time getting started), but it did seem to surprise him.
May is National Bicycle Month, and I always think of Sebastian and wonder where he is and what he is writing about as a teenager. In honor of Sebastian, here is another bicycle poem.
Maybe Alone On My Bike
I listen, and the mountain lakes
hear snowflakes come on those winter wings
only the owls are awake to see,
their radar gaze and furred ears
alert. In that stillness a meaning shakes;
And I have thought (maybe alone
on my bike, quaintly on a cold
evening pedaling home), Think!–
the splendor of our life, its current unknown
as those mountains, the scene no one sees.
O citizens of our great amnesty:
we might have died. We live. Marvels
coast by, great veers and swoops of air
so bright the lamps waver in tears,
and I hear in the chain a chuckle I like to hear.
by Marcia Chamberlain, Writers in the Schools
O poem, you bring light
to my dark world.
O poem, you open my mind
to different things.
O poem, your words of wisdom
are like a saint.
O poem, you bring the gift of laughter
to my family and me.
O poem, each time I read you
you give me a chance in the spotlight.
O poem, when I read you,
it’s like I read God’s
spiritual mind.
O poem, you are like a chipmunk
wandering in the wild.
by Jose, 4th grade
This poem is featured as part of the 2011 A Poem A Day campaign, a National Poetry Month celebration by WITS that features a different poem by a WITS student every day during April. Click on the logo to learn more.
Drizzle, you are
a salty block of ice,
a soapy bubble on the window.
I hear you
shattering like a glass vase.
I see you,
a hollow hallway.
You are a
soft, fresh breeze of leaves
falling on the hard, dull concrete.
People insult you,
saying you come to make kids
miserable because they can’t play.
If you never happened,
our plants would die
of thirst.
And if
it isn’t good for children to play in,
then I shall say to myself,
I love when it drizzles.
It feels so fresh.
by Fadila, 5th grade
Photo by johngarghan via Flickr
This poem is featured as part of the 2011 A Poem A Day campaign, a National Poetry Month celebration by WITS that features a different poem by a WITS student every day during April. Click on the logo to the left to learn more.
I’m sorry
I was never too nice to you
Running after you in the hall
Stomping my foot to scare you
It never occurred to me that someday
your time would run out
And now you’re gone
I thought it was okay
Since you hissed at me
And I would make it up to you
Or at least I thought I could
I was going to make it up to you
The day we put you to sleep
There wasn’t a shudder
Not a blink
When you passed
Just the vet,
who said
“She’s gone.”
Two words
That brought on tears
And it seemed
It was those words
That stopped your sides moving
That made your beautiful fur seem dull.
And you were gone
And you weren’t there
And there was no time to make it up
And I’d never see you again
No gray fur
Flashing down the hall
No green eyes
Liquid pools of beauty
Staring at me from the couch
Gone
It didn’t set in
Until I got home
And then I cried
And I missed you
So much
And I hated myself
And now you’re gone
And I never made it up to you
and I’m sorry
By Morgan, 4th grade
Drawing by pigpogm via Flickr
Image via Wikipedia
This pen is perfect,
Just right for my size.
This pen is indeed perfect,
But there is something I despise.
The lid is cracked and
The ink is running low.
The pen is a little crooked.
I guess it is a little old, but
Otherwise everything is fine.
This pen is my favorite
With its words still engraved
And its healthy green glow.
By Stephen, 3rd Grade
Out of the dust,
into the world,
just to wait for another day,
to come out and shine.
Why do we lollygag,
and wait for the world to
approach us?
Waiting for the future
to fall out of the sky,
and hit us on the head.
Wishing there was another
way to live.
We are the gum in the gumball machine,
stuck,
waiting for the maintenance guy
to show up.
We are the fish in the lake,
avoiding the hook,
and waiting for the net to come,
an easier way
to get caught,
even if we go down anyway.
We are the hairband that keeps
snapping,
simply because it isn’t
ready.
By Orly, 6th grade
As I look up at the stars,
I see the moon, Venus and Mars.
The stars start to cover the land,
I want to hold one in my hand.
As they lift me off the ground
They spin me up down and around.
As they return me to my house
They’re as quiet as a mouse.
But as I stop in shock and fright,
I think that tonight was the best night.
By Jaklyn, 4th Grade
Una mandarina anaranjada,
como una cruz.
Huele de la selva suave,
el sol brilloso y por dentro,
una flor jugosa.
~
A mandarin orange,
Like a cross.
It smells of the gentle jungle,
the brilliant sun, and inside,
a juicy flower.
By Janet, 3rd grade
[photo by Kyra Camili via flickr]
Oh mom, without you,
I wouldn’t be able to get food.
I also wouldn’t have anyone
to play with.
Without you,
I wouldn’t even have my birthday.
Oh mom, how wonderful you are.
You are a wizard in the kitchen.
You are a great reader.
You cook me food.
You play with me,
you take care of me.
By Reeti, 2nd grade
[photo by mccluskey via flickr]
