Thursday, April 30, 2009

Put A Poem in Your Pocket

Today is National Poem in Your Pocket Day! The idea is to carry a poem in your pocket, either original or copied, to share with others throughout the day. My library is celebrating by handing out poems on little scrolls tied with ribbon.

As far as I know, none of the Slushbusters are poets. But it's really all about appreciating and sharing poetry. So now I'll pull the poem I've selected out of my virtual pocket and read it to you:

Put Something In
by Shel Silverstein

Draw a crazy picture,
Write a nutty poem,
Sing a mumble-gumble song,
Whistle through your comb.
Do a loony-goony dance
'Cross the kitchen floor,
Put something silly in the world
That ain't been there before.

Anyone else have a poem they'd like to share?

6 comments:

Lisa said...

Oooh, oooh, oooh! (Jumping up and down, waving her hand in the air.) I'm a poet! It was the first way I saw my work in print. Haven't written many poems lately, but I have hundreds filed away somewhere.

Here's the poem in my pocket from the only book of poetry I brought with me to the Netherlands (it's short because, well, I'm too lazy to copy anything longer):

The First by Wendell Berry

The first man who whistled
thought he had a wren in his mouth.
He went around all day
with his lips puckered,
afraid to swallow.

Michelle said...

Good one, Lisa!

Tess said...

Is it really? How did you know that? How very, very fun! I must go digging for a poem....

ps - thanks for visiting my blog :) I love my blogging-writer friends, but have very few that actually write for children (like I do)

Michelle said...

I found out about it because of the library. I work there.

Rachelle T. said...

Neat, I didn't know that! Great post!

Sarah said...

I love the idea of a poem in your pocket! My mother wisely introduced me to Ogden Nash when I was little, and I still remember how delightful those poems were to recite- and how funny they were.

Years ago, when I waited tables, I had two sweet older ladies ask me exactly what a parsnip was since it was in the dinner special. I had no idea what sort of vegetable parsnips were, but mentioned that I did know a bit of poetry about them. So I recited Nash's "The Parsnip":

The parsnip, children, I repeat
is simply an anemic beat.
Some people call the parsnip edible.
Myself, I find this claim incredible.

I don't remember if they ordered the special, but they enjoyed the poem as much as I did.