Poetry

If I Were in Charge of the World

If I were in charge or the world
I’d cancel 8 o’clock classes,
Making the bed,
Unhappy people and rainy days.

If I were in charge of the world
There’d be more Saturdays,
Stronger communities, and
Wiser children.

If I were in charge of the world
You wouldn’t have sickness.
You wouldn’t have worry.
You wouldn’t have fear.
Or run out of time.

If I were in charge of the world
Chick-fil-A would be nutritious
Lines at stores would always be short
And a person who sometimes overreacts,
And sometimes never looks back,
Would still be allowed to be
In charge of the world.

Haiku poem

Sticky notes galore
Everywhere around my room
Many colors bright

Cinquain poem

Scattergories
Same letter
Pick a word
Get the highest score
Papa

Poetry Checklist

Concrete Poem:

Haiku Poem:

far shore Ferris wheel
turning glowing humming love
in our lit-up heads

By: Anselm Hollo

Cinquain Poem:

Triad

These be
Three silent things:
The falling snow… the hour
Before the dawn… the mouth of one
Just dead.

By Adelaide Crapsey

Two-voice Poem:

Frog Serenade

Ga-lunk                                                                Ga-lunk

Ga-lunk                                                                Ga-lunk

Ga-lunk                                                                Ga-lunk

I hear you                                                            I hear you

Ga-lunk                                                                 Ga-lunk

deep-voiced songs                                            chorus of

Ga-lunk                                                                  Ga-lunk

Ga-lunk                                                                  Ga-lunk

Ga-lunk                                                                  Ga-lunk

by the pond                                                       banjo songs

Ga-lunk                                                                   Ga-lunk

this warm                                                            under the shining stars

summer                                                               tonight.

night.

By Georgia Heard

Free Verse Poem:

Hourglass

The ocean is a blue cliché,
The pink sunset a rough-edged neon light through the smog.
Sand and seaweed scuff my toes in the tender spots,
Pillow the tough heels of my wave-buried feet and
Slowly cover my ankles.
There is sand everywhere,
On my face and hands,
Carried by the waves onto my clothes,
Even in the air as it is flung back,
Back into the sea that will toss and churn it
And round the sharper grains
So that some child’s small pink feet
Will one day feel them,
Soft under the soft-skinned toes
Of one not even thought of yet
On our sand grain of a world.

By Katherine Foreman

Simile Poem:

Flint

An emerald is as green as grass,
A ruby red as blood;
A sapphire shines as blue as heaven;
A flint lies in the mud.

A diamond is a brilliant stone,
To catch the world’s desire;
An opal holds a fiery spark;
But a flint holds a fire.

By Christina Rossetti

Metaphor Poem:

Sonnet 18

Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate:
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer’s lease hath all too short a date:
Sometimes too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimm’d:
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance, or nature’s changing course untrimm’d;
But they eternal summer shall not fade,
Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow’st,
Nor shall death brag thou wander’st in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou grow’st;
So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see,
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.

By William Shakespeare

Onomatopoeia Poem:

KABOOM!

Kaboom!
Ka-blast
Way in the past
the miners mined for ore.
They searched for copper, iron and salt,
for that and much, much more.

Kaboom!
The bite
of dynamite
cut deep inside the earth.
The charge explodes revealing lodes
of minerals of worth.

Kaboom!
The dust,
the air so mussed
went swirling through the sky.
It was a sight, the dynamite
that made the mountains fly.

Kaboom!
The earth
was filled with mirth
so tickled by the boom.
The miner’s pleasure,
each newfound treasure
that followed each
Kaboom!

by Denise Rodgers

Imagery Poem:

Autumn Change

The autumn change
Brings out the range
Of colors bright and bold
A dying flicker of shiny gold
Before the hue is dead
Out springs Indian red
A scarlet so serene
Overcome by olive green
When the molten colors turn over
The time is now October
Orange speckles to the ground
With traces of hickory brown
Colors so simple yet also strange
Reflect the mystery of the season’s change

By Mary O. Fumento

Favorite Poem:

Where the Sidewalk Ends

There is a place where the sidewalk ends

And before the street begins,

And there the grass grows soft and white,

And there the sun burns crimson bright,

And there the moon-bird rests from his flight

To cool in the peppermint wind.

Let us leave this place where the smoke blows black

And the dark street winds and bends.

Past the pits where the asphalt flowers grow

We shall walk with a walk that is measured and slow,

And watch where the chalk-white arrows go

To the place where the sidewalk ends.

Yes we’ll walk with a walk that is measured and slow,

And we’ll go where the chalk-white arrows go,

For the children, they mark, and the children, they know

The place where the sidewalk ends.

There is a place where the sidewalk ends
And before the street begins,
And there the grass grows soft and white,
And there the sun burns crimson bright,
And there the moon-bird rests from his flight
To cool in the peppermint wind.

Let us leave this place where the smoke blows black
And the dark street winds and bends.
Past the pits where the asphalt flowers grow
We shall walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And watch where the chalk-white arrows go
To the place where the sidewalk ends.

Yes we’ll walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And we’ll go where the chalk-white arrows go,
For the children, they mark, and the children, they know
The place where the sidewalk ends.

By Shel Silverstein