For the last two weeks of "school" (we finished yesterday...woohoo!), we have been working on poetry. The last two days have been spent writing "apostrophes". (When the poet speaks to an object, animal, etc.) We read and studied "The Lamb" and "The Tiger" by William Blake (who was homeschooled, by the way!). Both of these poems are apostrophes, though they each have a different tone. The assignment for B&B was to write two apostrophes, one with a tone like "The Lamb" and one similar to "The Tiger".
I'm excited to share their poems with you. First of all, I hope you will enjoy them. Secondly, I wanted to "publish" them on my blog, because I believe it is important (whenever possible) to have an audience for your (child's) writing. It gives purpose to all the editing, creativity, etc. (It's pretty boring for any student to only write for their teacher, or just to get a grade.)
Here are their poems:
Otter
To the otter as he ran down to the shore:
What is more to love?
And what is more to adore?
It is fun to see it leaping;
Also more of a pleasure than a dove,
As he goes on sleeping.
Why no worries when curled?
Of no creeping hunter with a gun?
The otter said, "What's better than to love the world?"
B., age 11
Adder
In the withering deep
I found an adder.
Down and dirty you creep;
Through the alders you slither.
Pointless things you say in sleep--
The avenger with two fangs.
Traversing and crawling through the deep;
Your scales stand up as you feel a thing behind you with your tongue.
You gather your coils in a heap.
Why do you fear? When actually we fear those dread fangs?
B., age 11
Clever
Clever Chipmunk on the wall,
Who taught you to stash your seeds in fall?
Where in the trees to you hide your food?
In what hole does live your brood?
When you spot me, away you scamper,
When with your home I wouldn't tamper?
How do you store within your cheeks
A larderful would last you weeks?
Who placed the wisdom in your heart,
Underneath a golden coat of art?
God placed the urge in your "soul",
To hide your nuts inside a hole.
B., Age 13
Eagle
Soaring Eagle, above you fly.
What see you with your golden eye?
What strength resides within your maw?
What power commands your ruling claw?
Your noble head, you hold it proud,
What can you spot above the cloud?
What demands you as you sing?
What might holds up your iron wing?
B., age 13