The Power of Poetry

Brod Bagert at Lafayette 3/29/11

Brod Bagert believes in the power of poetry.  He believes in the power of the rhythm and the rhyme, the strength of the sound and the voice of a poem.  He believes that if we find one poem that we love, we will be well on our way to understanding the power of poetry.  So let's find a poem that speaks to us in some way: a poem that entertains us, that makes us laugh, that makes us stop and think, that allows us to remember, that inspires us to act.  Today's first poem encourages us to follow the Dewey Decimal signs to 811.  We never know what we'll find there:

The Buffalo in the Library

At school, in the library,

In section eight-one-one,

I saw a big brown buffalo

Who was having lots of fun.

His nose was in a book of poems

About trees and grass and birds,

But that buffalo wasn't reading,

He was eating up the words.

I like you, Mr. Buffalo,

And I know you have to feed,

But please don't eat my poetry books.

I need those books to read.

I'll take you to the playground

And give you grass instead,

But poetry is the food I need

To feed my hungry head.

--Brod Bagert

The Buffalo in the Library is a poem to love.  Our next poem, Buffalo Dusk, was written by Carl Sandburg in 1848.   A well-known American writer who celebrated the power of poetry and the spirit of America, Sandburg  wrote about famous Americans, common hard-working Americans, and the beautiful American landscape.   Carl Sandburg worked on his biography of Abraham Lincoln  for thirty years; the finished work filled six thick books. Mr. Sandburg would have done a very thorough job on his Wax Museum and Biography Banner projects!

Buffalo Dusk

The buffaloes are gone.

And those who saw the buffaloes are gone.

Those who saw the buffaloes by thousands and

          how they pawed the prairie sod into dust

          with their hoofs, their great heads down

          pawing on in a great pageant of dusk,

Those who saw the buffaloes are gone.

And the buffaloes are gone.

--Carl Sandburg

Two Yellowstone bison

The poem's speaker remembers wild buffalo that once roamed freely on our nation's frontier:  great herds hunted to near extinction during the nineteenth century, who live now only in memory.  Today, the descendants of Buffalo Dusk herds graze on farms, preserves, and national parkland. As Poetry on Parade marches on, we learn that a poem has the power to entertain us and to make us laugh: it also has the power to make us think, to allow us to remember, and to inspire us to action.  Buffalo Dusk is a poem to love.                 

We've Got... Brod Bagert Poems!

Poetic Voices and Pencils-with-Erasers

Our Author's Day guest says,  "I want my poems to be entertaining-- dramatic language recited in character by a performer to an audience." Brod Bagert  certainly impressed-- and educated-- Lafayette audiences yesterday with wonderful poetry and entertaining presentations.  Voice is a very important part of Brod Bagert's work.. The poetic voice-- also known as the mask or the persona-- refers to the imagined speaker of a poem.  When we're reading, writing, and reciting poetry, it's important to remember that the poet often takes on a role or becomes a character in a poem.  Today, Brod Bagert's poetic voice is playing tricks, twisting and tangling the speaker's words:

There's a Goblin in My Throat 

There's a goblin in my throat

And he's such a nasty goat--

He always wants his way

With the words I try to say:

If I try to say "clown,"

He changes it to "frown."

If I try to say "daisy,"

He changes it to "lazy."

If I try to say "wink,"

He changes it to "stink."

It's very hard to be nice

With a goblin in your throat.

But still

I lov--vv... hate!

Because life is so

beautif-ff-ff... ugly!

And you're sweet as

sug-gg-gg-gg... salt!

You see?

These terrible things I say

Are really not my fault.

-- Brod Bagert

Today, Poetry on Parade also celebrates Pencils-with-Erasers Day, a day that promotes creative poetry writing-- and one that encourages us to correct our mistakes!  On March 30, 1858, Philadelphia inventor Hymen Lipman obtained an official patent for fastening an eraser to the end of a pencil:

Pencilly

The pencil is a splendid thing

For which there's no replacer.

But better than the pencil is

The little pink eraser.

-- Doug Florian

Pencils 

The rooms in a pencil

are narrow

but elephants     castles and watermelons

fit it

In a pencil

noisy words yell for attention

and quiet words wait their turn

How did they slip

into such a tight place?

Who

gives them their 

lunch?

From a broken pencil

an unbroken poem will come!

There is a long story living

in the shortest pencil 

-- Barbara Esbensen 

Let's celebrate our Poetic Voices and Pencils-with-Erasers Day!  Let's get out our writers' notebooks and put pencil to paper! If at first we don't succeed... we can make use of Hymen Lipman's wonderful invention!

Author's Day with Brod Bagert

Brod Bagert has brought his poetry to schools across the country and around the world.  Today, we welcome him to Lafayette School!  Poetry on Parade will post photos and video from the Author's Day presentations when available.  
Audience plays an important role in Brod Bagert's poetry:  he says, "I write my poems to entertain an audience, so when the audience changes, the poems change."  For early elementary school groups, he uses repetition, chants, and easy rhyme patterns.  For older elementary crowds, he introduces story-telling and more complicated rhyme.
Brod Bagert often compares poetry to music: the sounds of words, along with their meaning, help tell the story of the poem.  Poetry Paraders know that onomatopoeia words-- words that imitate the sounds they represent-- give our poetry a little extra boom, bang, zing, and zip!

Our Author's Day guest believes that performing poetry makes us better writers, readers, and speakers: that sharing a poem improves our communication skills, our comprehension skills, and the way we relate to each other and to the world around us.  He also understands that it takes a bit of courage to stand in front of an audience for the first time:

Heart Stopper 

I'm standing on the stage,

The play's about to start,

And the only sound I hear

Is the pounding of my heart.

It was everything I wanted--

My fantasy... my goal.

So I tried out for this play

And I got the leading role.

I learned my lines, I practiced,

I came so very far,

I dreamed about this moment--

I was going to be the STAR!

So here I am on stage,

And the play's about to start.

My life was so much simpler

Before I got this part.

-- Brod Bagert

Today, Poetry on Parade also celebrates the invention of  the world-famous "brain tonic and intellectual beverage," Coca-Cola.  On March 29, 1886, Dr. John Pemberton brewed the very first batch of the refreshing, fizzy beverage as a  homemade cure for his stomach ache and headache!

My Lunch 

A candy bar.

A piece of cake. 
A lollipop. 
A chocolate shake. 
A jelly donut. 
Chocolate chips. 
Some gummy worms 
and licorice whips. 
A candy cane. 
A lemon drop. 
Some bubblegum  
and soda pop. 
Vanilla wafers. 
Cherry punch. 
My mom slept in 
while I made lunch. 

-- from Revenge of the Lunch Ladies by Kenn Nesbitt

Let's celebrate Author's Day and Coca-Cola Day by sharing a poem and a smile.  Like the jingle (a catchy, often musical advertising slogan) says, It's the Real Thing!

Shout It! Shout It! Poetry Monday

Welcome to Brod Bagert Week! Tomorrow is Author's Day at Lafayette School. This week, we'll learn a bit about our guest author, sample his poems, and feature student video performances of his poetry.  

Brod Bagert lives in New Orleans; he is married and has four children.  He first tried his hand at poetry in third grade and enjoyed writing during high school and college. After graduation, a busy career as a lawyer and public official allowed little time for poetry-- until one of his children asked him to write a poem for a school program.  Brod Bagert picked up his pen, wrote a poem, and realized that he was doing what he loved.  He became a full-time poet in 1992, traveling across the United States and around the world, writing many award-winning books for children, young adults, and grown-ups.  Brod Bagert creates his poetry--sometimes loud and funny, sometimes quiet and thoughtful-- to share with an audience. Today's poem of the day celebrates the power of performance poetry:

Shout

Shout it!  Shout it!  POETRY!

Fun for you and fun for me.

Clap your hands!  Stomp your feet!

Feel the rhythm!  Feel the beat!

Chunky words all chopped in chips!

Silky sounds upon your lips.

Tell a story-- happy, sad:

Silly, sorry; good or bad.

Leap a leap, hop a hop,

See the ocean in one drop.

Shout it!  Shout it!  POETRY!

Fun for you and fun for me.

-- Brod Bagert

By the way, today we also celebrate Something on a Stick Day with a Popsicle haiku:

Popsicle melting.

Red stains on sticky fingers

Wash off in the pool.

-- from A Child's Introduction to Poetry by Michael Driscoll

Let's celebrate Shout It!  Shout It!  Poetry Monday by nibbling Something on a Stick: hot dog, corn dog, strawberry, shrimp, chicken chunk, cocktail wiener, cheddar cheese?  Yes, please!  Mashed potatoes on a stick?  No, thank you.

Hot off the Griddle: Pancake Day Poems

Pancakes

We wake up every morning and have some pancakes;

If we don't, we won't get stronger.

Cereal is just for plain old people,

And we just want to try something a little different.

Ah HUH! Ah HUH!

You know what it is...

Pancakes, Pancakes, MM'MM Good!

-- Colleen and Heather in Miss Lacey's fourth grade class

Yummy Yummy Pancakes 

 (Together)

Yummy yummy pancakes; we love pancakes!

Yummy yummy pancakes; we want pancakes!

 (Nadia)

Pancakes are so good,

I would eat one right now.

Yes I would, hey!

 (Together)

Yummy yummy pancakes!

(Jane)

I like 'em cooked, 

She likes 'em raw,

Even my dog likes them shaped like a paw.

(Together)

Yummy yummy pancakes; we love pancakes!

(Jane)

Wicka wicka wicka wicka wicka word!

(Together)

Gooooo pancakes!

See ya later, we're out to get some pancakes!

--Jane T. and Nadia W.

P P P P Pancakes!

(Katelyn)

P P P P pancakes, pancakes, pancakes. 

P P P P pancakes, they're so good.

I'd ma-rry one if I could.

(Sanjana)

They are so good I would, I would.

They may not be nutritious,

But they are so delicious.

(Together)

P P P P pancakes, pancakes, pancakes.

(Katelyn)

They come in different colors, too!

Reds, oranges, and sometimes blue!

(Sanjana)

You can have 'em hot, you can have 'em cold,

But pancakes pancakes never get old.

(Together)

P P P P pancakes, pancakes, pancakes.

P P P P pancakes. WORD!

(Sanjana)

Let's go get some pancakes!

(Katelyn)

Sure!

--Katelyn and Sanjana 

(Thank you for the Pancake Artwork, Veronica K!)

A Short Stack of Poems, Covered with Syrup

Mm'mm... Pancakes! On March 25, 1882, a New York City department store staged the first public pancake-making demonstration, introducing griddle cakes to a hungry breakfast-eating nation. By 1889, Aunt Jemima was selling ready-to-make pancake mix: the irresistible aroma of warm flapjacks has filled American kitchens (and delicious hotcakes have filled hungry tummies) ever since.  Today, Poetry on Parade celebrates Pancakes Day with a short stack of tasty poems, served warm, dripping with butter, and covered with rich maple syrup: 

Pancake Poem

Who wants a pancake,

Sweet and piping hot?

Good little Grace looks up and says,

"I'll take the one on top."

Who else wants a pancake,

Fresh off the griddle?

Terrible Teresa smiles and says,

"I'll take the one in the middle."

--Shel Silverstein

Pancakes come in many different shapes and sizes: we've seen pancakes that resemble snowflakes, hearts, flowers, bunnies... even Darth Vader!  Plain buttermilk pancakes are tasty, but how do we make our batter better?  We add apple chunks, banana slices, blueberries, pecans, or chocolate chips!

Pancake Song

Mix a pancake,

Stir a pancake,
Pop it in the pan.
Fry the pancake,
Toss the pancake,
Catch it if you can.

-- Christina Rossetti

Poetry Paraders know that pancake treats are fun to make and fun to eat.  Our next poem, The Pancake Collector, suggests that pancakes might be used successfully in home decorating.  We like pancakes, and we like this poem-- but we don't encourage wearing pancakes to school.  Not a good wardrobe choice! 

Come visit my pancake collection

It's unique in the civilized world.

I have pancakes in every description,

Pancakes flaky and fluffy and curled.

I have pancakes of various sizes,

Pancakes regular, heavy and light.

Underdone pancakes and overdone pancakes

And pancakes so perfectly right.

I have pancakes locked up in the closets,

have pancakes on hangers and hooks.

There are bags in boxes and bureaus

And pressed in the pages of books.

There are pretty ones sewn to the cushions

And tastefully pinned to the drapes.

The ceilings are coated with pancakes

And pressed in the pages with crepes.

I have pancakes in most of my pockets

And concealed in the lining of suits.

There are tiny ones stuffed in my mittens

And large one packed in my boots.

I have extra of most of my pancakes,

I maintain them in rows on these shelves,

And if you say nice things about them

You may take a few home for yourself.

I see that you've got to be going,

Won't you let yourselves out by the door?

It is time that I pour out he batter

And bake up a few hundred more.

-- Jack Prelutsky

In most of the United States, pancakes are just called pancakes: early Americans ate johnnycakes, and it's hotcakes or flapjacks if you're from New England.  In Germany, Poetry Paraders eat potato pancakes, while French poets savor their crepes. In Scotland, they're devouring drop scones, while the Irish enjoy their boxty.  China, of course has the bao bing; Indonesia, the dadar gutung.  And all the while, the people of India are busy eating their poori. Whatever we name them and wherever in the world we eat them, a short stack of pancakes can be quite filling; however, on Pancakes Day, a short stack of poems about pancakes leaves us hungry for more!  

                                                                                                      

The Great Houdini Day

There is magic in the air... and poetry, too!  Today, Poetry on Parade celebrates the birthday of world-famous Hungarian-American magician and escape artist Harry Houdini. Houdini was born on March 24, 1874: from his breakthrough act in 1899 to his death on Halloween in 1926, Harry Houdini thrilled audiences with astonishing performances and sensational stunts. Our first poem of the day, Hypnotized, written by Shel Silverstein and performed by  Kim and Julia, reflects the magic and mystery surrounding The Great Houdini Day:

Next, Poetry on Parade proudly shares an original Great Houdini Day performance, Harry Houdini Magic, written and recited by fifth graders Jenny B. and Emily C. The poem is followed by Mrs. Cifrodella's Great Houdini Day tribute, as seen on  our critically-acclaimed morning announcement show, Lafayette Live!

Harry Houdini Magic

Escape artist waiting to show

Talents and tricks, so you must go!

People attend with their eyes bulging out,

Wanting to know what it's all about.

Chains twirled around make a rattling sound--

Locks closed tight--

Waiting for the thrill of the fight.  (Can he get out?)

Strait-jacket wrapped around and around,

Handcuffs on wrists weighing more than a pound.

A box opens up and a man pops out:

"It's Harry Houdini!" everyone shouts!

-- Jenny B. and Emily C.


When curious reporters asked how he escaped from seemingly inescapable situations time and time again, The Great Houdini simply replied, "My mind is the key that sets me free."  Keeping that mysterious quote in mind, Poetry on Parade presents an original dramatic poem about the escape artist who always... used his noodle (an idiom meaning he used his brain):

 Thank you, Mrs. Kraemer, for loaning us large prop utensils and a Houdini-sized pasta bowl! 

The Milk Can Escape (premiered in 1908)

Watch Houdini thump and pound at a steel can meant to hold milk.

His assistants pour twenty pails of water into the can.

They handcuff him, then help him inside.

He shrinks, he curls, he takes a big gulp of air.

The assistants fill the can to the top, then latch it.

Click, click, click-- six padlocks in all.

The curtain closes.  Now, hold your breath!

Can you hold it for as long as Houdini?

Thirty seconds... One minute...

Tick, tick, tick-- lungs ready to burst.

Failure to escape means a drowning death!

An assistant stands by with an ax just in case.

Just over two minutes.

Behold our Houdini, wet, breathless-- but alive!

-- from Houdini: World's Greatest Mystery Man and Escape King by Kathleen Bull

The magic of The Great Houdini continues to capture our imaginations-- and to inspire our poetry-- today! 

A Slice of Toasted Poetry

What's on the menu?  Poetry, a little bit of opera history, and-- believe it or not-- Melba Toast.  Named for Australian opera soprano Dame Nellie Melba and introduced to the world on this day in 1897, Melba Toast is a thinly sliced, lightly toasted, crispy bread treat.  A French hotel chef who happened to be an opera fan created Melba toast for Dame Nellie: she was, apparently, a picky eater with a sensitive digestive system.  Today, Poetry on Parade celebrates Melba Toast with a selection of tasty poems.  Do you like your poetry lightly browned or toasted to a crisp? 

The Toaster 

A silver-scaled Dragon with jaws flaming red

Sits at my elbow and toasts my bread.

I hand him fat slices, and then, one by one,

He hands them back when he sees they are done. 

--William Jay Smith

Poetry Paraders who shout and complain that buttered toast for breakfast is boring and rather plain may wish to consider, to ponder, perhaps to entertain Awful Ogre's Breakfast by Jack Prelutsky:

Oh breakfast, lovely breakfast,

You're the meal I savor most.

I sip a bit of gargoyle bile

And chew some ghoul on toast.

I linger over scrambled legs,

Complete with pickled feet,

Then finish with a piping bowl

Of steamy SCREAM OF WHEAT. 

Oh dear.  Joining Awful Ogre for breakfast might be biting off more than we can chew (that's an idiom meaning that we are taking on more than we can manage-- in this case, an Awful Ogre).  Ogres, by the way, are monsters often featured in folktales, mythology, and fiction.   Shrek is an ogre.  Generally, ogres have cranky temperaments, large heads, big muscles, lots of hair, and they like to eat... us.  Let's stick with toast and poetry:

Hungry for Poetry 

First of all I saw him chew

a tender Japanese haiku.

He ate a foot-long sonnet

with mustard spread upon it.

He downed a bag of ripe cinquains

while walking in the pouring rain.

He gulped an epic, chomped an ode,

wolfed a couplet to cure his cold.

He munched so many limericks,

they made him absolutely sick.

He tried a plate of fresh free verse;

but all that did was make things worse.

He took some onomatopoeia

to cure a case of diarrhea.

He ate a poem of sixteen lines,

and after that he felt just fine. 

-- from A Writing Kind of Day by Ralph Fletcher 

How to Eat a Poem 

Don't be polite.
Bite in.
Pick it up with your fingers and lick the juice that
may run down your chin.
It is ready and ripe now, whenever you are.

You do not need a knife or fork or spoon
or plate or napkin or tablecloth.

For there is no core
or stem
or rind
or pit
or seed
or skin
to throw away. 

-- Eve Merriam

Melba toast is sometimes served with soup and topped with melted cheese, but we'll take our toast with a ripe and juicy poem, if you please.  Bon Appétit!