Wednesday, February 29, 2012

3-year-old recites Billy Collin's "Litany"




Litany


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You are the bread and the knife,
the crystal goblet and the wine.
You are the dew on the morning grass
and the burning wheel of the sun.
You are the white apron of the baker,
and the marsh birds suddenly in flight.

However, you are not the wind in the orchard,
the plums on the counter,
or the house of cards.
And you are certainly not the pine-scented air.
There is just no way that you are the pine-scented air.

It is possible that you are the fish under the bridge,
maybe even the pigeon on the general's head,
but you are not even close
to being the field of cornflowers at dusk.

And a quick look in the mirror will show
that you are neither the boots in the corner
nor the boat asleep in its boathouse.

It might interest you to know,
speaking of the plentiful imagery of the world,
that I am the sound of rain on the roof.

I also happen to be the shooting star,
the evening paper blowing down an alley
and the basket of chestnuts on the kitchen table.

I am also the moon in the trees
and the blind woman's tea cup.
But don't worry, I'm not the bread and the knife.
You are still the bread and the knife.
You will always be the bread and the knife,
not to mention the crystal goblet and--somehow--the wine.


What is the narrator talking about????
What poetic devices do you notice? Explain.

Poems That Do If For Us!!


Please explore the poetry we're finding which appeal to us! Leave a comment.

Just please know...it's been challenging to choose just one!! This is just a sample of what we like!!

Tuesday, February 28, 2012

Sunday, February 26, 2012

The Oak and the Rose

An oak tree and a rosebush grew,
Young and green together,
Talking the talk of growing things-
Wind and water and weather.
And while the rosebush sweetly bloomed
The oak tree grew so high
That now it spoke of newer things-
Eagles, mountain peaks and sky.
I guess you think you’re pretty great,
The rose was heard to cry,
Screaming as loud as it possibly could
To the treetop in the sky.
And now you have no time for flower talk,
Now that you’ve grown so tall.
It’s not so much that I’ve grown, said the tree,
It’s just that you’ve stayed so small.

-Shel Silverstein