Presentation on theme: "Line Breaks Here’s what to do with “The Big Field” by Donald Graves. Mr. Gammons mows the big field with his tractor, then rakes and bundles hay for the."— Presentation transcript:
Line Breaks Here’s what to do with “The Big Field” by Donald Graves. Mr. Gammons mows the big field with his tractor, then rakes and bundles hay for the barn. George and I grab our bats, gloves, and balls and race across the field like major leaguers in spring training. We hit long flies to each other all afternoon, never lose a ball in the stubble, and don’t stop until Mother calls us for supper.
Line Breaks The Big Field Mr. Gammons mows the big field with his tractor, then rakes and bundles hay for the barn. George and I grab our bats, gloves, and balls and race across the filed like major leaguers in spring training. We hit long flies to each other all afternoon, never lose a ball in the stubble, and don’t stop until Mother calls us for supper. - Donald Graves
Line Breaks – click for sample
That Reminds Me I was sitting by a stream When I saw a grasshopper hop from a rock And land on the other side And it reminded me of how we used to jump Across the puddles in the driveway After a summer rain- Except the grasshopper didn’t get all wet- And didn’t get the giggles. I was sitting on the porch When I saw a squirrel in the weeping willow tree Vaulting through the air To anther limb And it reminded me of how we used to tie ourselves Into the lows branches of that tree And run And swing Up off the ground We were like flying squirrels I was lying on my back in the grass When I saw a maple leaf fall off a high branch And float in the wind Out past the top of my head And it reminded me of the time our kite string broke And the kite soared out over the top of the hill And we never saws it again I still think about that old kite And it reminds me of you -Will Mowery
Walking With My Iguana.I’m walking with my iguana I’m walking with my iguana When the temperature rises to above eighty-five, my iguana is looking like he’s coming alive. So we make it to the beach, my iguana and me, then he sits on my shoulder as we stroll by the sea... and I’m walking with my iguana Well if anyone sees us we’re a big surprise, my iguana and me on our daily exercise, till somebody phones the local police says I’ve got an alligator tied to a leash. when I’m walking with my iguana I’m walking with my iguana It’s the spines on his back that make him look grim, but he just loves to be tickled under his chin. And I know that my iguana is ready for bed when he puts on his pyjamas and lays down his sleepy head. And I’m walking with my iguana still walking with my iguana With my iguana with my iguana and my piranha and my Chihuahua and my chinchilla, with my gorilla, my caterpillar… and I’m walking… with my iguana… with my iguana… with my iguana… You can hear it at this website.
Pencil Sharpener By Zoe Ryder White I think there are a hundred bees inside the pencil sharpener and they buzz and buzz until my point is sharp! Ceiling By Zoe Ryder White The ceiling is the sky for the classroom
Bear In There by Shel Silverstein There's a Polar Bear In our Frigidaire-- He likes it 'cause it's cold in there. With his seat in the meat And his face in the fish And his big hairy paws In the buttery dish, He's nibbling the noodles, He's munching the rice, He's slurping the soda, He's licking the ice. And he lets out a roar If you open the door. And it gives me a scare To know he's in there-- That Polary Bear In our Fridgitydaire.
The Tree On The Corner by Lilian Moore I’ve seen the tree on the corner in spring bud and summer green. Yesterday it was yellow gold. Then a cold wind began to blow. Now I know – you really do not see a tree until you see its bones
Umbrellas by Maxine W. Kumin It’s raining in the city. I hope it rains for hours. All of the umbrellas Open up like flowers. Come look out my window! Polka dots in lines Wag their stems and Tilt to read the signs. Plaid ones cross at corners Striped ones wave about. It’s raining in the city; The flowers have come out
Crickets, Valerie Worth Crickets Talk In the tall Grass All Late summer Long. When Summer Is gone, The dry Grass Whispers Alone.
Some lovely small poems by Valerie Worth: chairs Chairs Seem To Sit Down On Themselves, almost as if They were people, Some fat, some thin; Settled comfortably On their own seats, Some even stretch out their arms To Rest.. sun The sun Is a leaping fire Too hot To go near, But it will still Lie down In warm yellow squares On the floor Like a flat Quilt, where The cat can curl And purr.
The Poem that Got Away–By Felice Holman There I was and in it came Through the fogbank of my brain From the fastness of my soul Shining like a glowing coal – The nearly perfect poem! Oh, it may have needed just An alteration here or there— A little tuck, a little seam To be exactly what I mean – The really perfect poem I’ll write it later on, I said, The idea’s clear and so’s my head. This pen I have is nearly dry. What I’ll do now is finish this pie, Then on to the perfect poem! With pen in hand quite full of ink I try not to recall. I’ve plenty of time in which to think But the poem went down the kitchen sink With the last of the perfect pie.
safety pin Valerie Worth Closed, it sleeps On its side Quietly, The silver Image Of some Small fish; Opened, it snaps Its tail out Like a thin Shrimp, and looks At the sharp Point with a Surprised eye
DANDELION - by Valerie Worth Out of Green space, A sun: Bright for A day, burning Away to A husk, a Cratered moon: Burst In a week To dust: Seeding The infinitie Lawn with Its starry Smithereens.
Spring Seeds By: Douglas Florian Spring Seeds We tilled the earth, Took out the weeds, Then in the soil Planted seeds: Pumpkin, Parsely, Carrot, Pea, Spring succeeds ex-seed-ing-ly.
Baseball Cards #1 BY JIM DANIELS One of the 10,342 baseball cards in my parents’ attic sneezes in the dampness, remembers sweaty hands. He calls to me across hundreds of miles: Remember me, Jake Wood, 1964, 2nd base, Detroit Tigers, Series 2, No. 272? He wants to stretch his legs, climb out from between Wilbur Wood and the 4th Series Checklist wants to outsail all the other cards in a game of farthies, float down on Jose Tartabull in a game of tops. He wants to smell like fresh from the pack wants to be perfumed again with the pink smell of bubble gum.
October Saturday All the leaves have turned to cornflakes. It looks as if some giant’s baby brother had tipped the box and scattered them upon our lawn- millions and millions of cornflakes- crunching, crunching under our feet. When the wind blows, they rattle against each other, nervously chattering. We rake them into piles- Dad and I. Piles and piles of cornflakes! A breakfast for a whole family of giants! We do not talk much as we rake- A word here- A word there. The leaves are never silent. Inside the house my mother is packing Short sleeved shirts and faded bathing suits- Rubber clogs and flippers- In a box marked SUMMER. We are raking Dad and I. Bobbi Ka
Inside My Heart by Zoe Ryder White Inside my heart lives one birthday party two jazz bands three wrestling puppies four dancing birds five laughing babies six blasting spaceships seven lucky fireflies and a sky full of stars
Falling Leaves by Jack Prelutsky Little leaves fall softly down Red and yellow, orange and brown Whirling, twirling round and round Falling softly to the ground Little leaves fall softly down To make a carpet on the ground. Then, swish, the wind comes whistling by And sends them dancing to the sky.
When the Roses Revolted The roses were fed up. They were sick sick sick of being symbols for love. One night they revolted, crept out of flower shops, jumped out of windows and touched the dirt! They spent that night drinking real night air, carousing with clover, boogying with bluebells, dancing with dandelions, and in this way they rediscovered their roots. ~ Ralph Fletcher
Fog by Carl Sandburg The fog comes on little cat feet. It sits looking over harbor and city on silent haunches and then moves on.
Some one by Walter De la Mare. Some one came knocking At my wee, small door; Someone came knocking; I'm sure-sure-sure; I listened, I opened, I looked to left and right, But nought there was a stirring In the still dark night; Only the busy beetle Tap-tapping in the wall, Only from the forest The screech-owl's call, Only the cricket whistling While the dewdrops fall, So I know not who came knocking, At all, at all, at all.
DREAMS by Langston Hughes Hold fast to dreams For if dreams die Life is a broken-winged bird That cannot fly. Hold fast to dreams For when dreams go Life is a barren field Frozen with snow.
The Tree On The Corner by Lilian Moore I’ve seen the tree on the corner in spring bud and summer green. Yesterday it was yellow gold. Then a cold wind began to blow. Now I know – you really do not see a tree until you see its bones.
PAPER CLIPS By Rebecca Kai Dotlich With tiny teeth of tin they take one slender breath before they make a move, and then --- a silver pinch! With jaws no bigger than an inch these dragon grips are small and slight --- but conquer pages with one bite!
Foghorns by Langston Hughes The foghorns moaned in the bay last night so sad so deep I thought I heard the city crying in its sleep
City In the morning the city Spreads its wings Making a song In stone that sings. In the evening the city Goes to bed Hanging lights About its head. Langston Hughes
April Rain Song BY LANGSTON HUGHESLANGSTON HUGHES Let the rain kiss you. Let the rain beat upon your head with silver liquid drops. Let the rain sing you a lullaby. The rain makes still pools on the sidewalk. The rain makes running pools in the gutter. The rain plays a little sleep-song on our roof at night— And I love the rain.
Who has seen the wind Who has seen the wind? Neither I nor you; But when the leaves hang trembling The wind is passing through. Who has seen the wind? Neither you nor I; But when the trees bow down their heads The wind is passing by.
My Baby Brother My baby brother is so small, he hasn't even learned to crawl. He's only been around a week, and all he seems to do is bawl and wiggle, sleep... and leak.
Hold Fast to Dream by Langston Hughes Hold fast to dreams, For if dreams die Life is a broken-winged bird That cannot fly. Hold fast to dreams, For when dreams go Life is a barren field Frozen with snow.
City Child by Lois Lenski The sidewalk is my yard, The lampost is my tree. Up three long flights of stairs, My home is Flat 4C.
THIS TOOTH\ by Lee Bennett Hopkins I jiggled it jaggled it jerked it. I pushed and pulled and poked it. But-- As soon as I stopped and left it alone, This tooth came out on its very own!
In Autumn Fannie Montgomery They're coming down in showers, The leaves all gold and red; They're covering the little flowers, And tucking them in bed. They've spread a fairy carpet All up and down the street; And when we skip along to school, They rustle 'neath our feet.
Closing Day Thought I wonder if our schoolbooks are lonely all the day While through the long vacation in cupboards put away? I wonder if the blackboard seems rather out of place Without a single piece of chalk to mark upon its face? I wonder if the schoolroom is sometimes lonely, too While standing bare and empty without a thing to do? But this we can assure them. When summer days all flee We'll join them in September and keep them company. -Leland B. Jacobs
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening BY ROBERT FROSTWhose woods these are I think I know. ROBERT FROST His house is in the village though; He will not see me stopping here To watch his woods fill up with snow. My little horse must think it queer To stop without a farmhouse near Between the woods and frozen lake The darkest evening of the year. He gives his harness bells a shake To ask if there is some mistake. The only other sound’s the sweep Of easy wind and downy flake. The woods are lovely, dark and deep. But I have promises to keep, And miles to go before I sleep, And miles to go before I sleep.
The Road Not Taken Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, And sorry I could not travel both And be one traveler, long I stood And looked down one as far as I could To where it bent in the undergrowth; Then took the other, as just as fair, And having perhaps the better claim Because it was grassy and wanted wear, Though as for that the passing there Had worn them really about the same, And both that morning equally lay In leaves no step had trodden black. Oh, I marked the first for another day! Yet knowing how way leads on to way I doubted if I should ever come back. I shall be telling this with a sigh Somewhere ages and ages hence: Two roads diverged in a wood, and I, I took the one less traveled by, And that has made all the difference. Robert Frost