Hello, below you will find Reading Packet #1, due to be read by Wednesday, Feb.1st. There are four poems to read. Two of them are provided in full text below and the other two are to be found on the Internet. Print out all four poems and bring to class on the 1st, the day they are due to be read. You will also note that NO question and comment homework is due for this packet.
POETRY READING PACKET #1 (four poems)
“Taking my Son to School”
by Eamon Grennan
(do a google search of the above poem exactly as it is written above. The first posting will be a commencement speech give by Mr. Grennan. Open this and you will see the poem right at the beginning of the speech. Focus only on the poem, not the speech)
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"One Home”
By William Stafford
Mine was a Midwest home—you can keep your world.
Plain black hats rode the thoughts that made our code.
We sang hymns in the house; the roof was near God.
The light bulb that hung in the pantry made a wan light,
but we could read by it the names of preserves—
outside, the buffalo grass, and the wind in the night.
A wildcat sprang at Grandpa on the Fourth of July
when he was cutting plum bushes for fuel,
before Indians pulled the West over the edge of the sky.
To anyone who looked at us we said, “My friend”;
liking the cut of a thought, we could say “Hello.”
(But plain black hats rode the thoughts that made our code.)
The sun was over our town; it was like a blade.
Kicking cottonwood leaves we ran toward storms.
Wherever we looked the land would hold us up.
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“Where Children Live”
by Naomi Shihab Nye
Homes where children live exude a pleasant rumpledness,
like a bed made by a child, or a yard littered with balloons.
To be a child again one would need to shed details
till the heart found itself dressed in the coat with a hood.
Now the heart has taken on gloves and mufflers,
the heart never goes outside to find something to do.
And the house takes on a new face, dignified.
No lost shoes blooming under bushes.
No chipped trucks in the drive.
Grown-ups like swings, leafy plants, slow-motion back and forth.
While the yard of a child is strewn with the corpses
of bottle-rockets and whistles,
anything whizzing and spectacular, brilliantly short-lived.
Trees in children's yards speak in clearer tongues.
Ants have more hope. Squirrels dance as well as hide.
The fence has a reason to be there, so children can go in and out.
Even when the children are at school, the yards glow
with the leftovers of their affection,
the roots of the tiniest grasses curl toward one another
like secret smiles.
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“To a Daughter Leaving Home”
by Linda Pastan
(please google the poem and you will find it on PoemHunter.com)
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