What's In Your Library Bag Wednesday?...

     NOTE  : It is no longer Wednesday, but it is still raining! I have been struggling getting this to you in a timely manner, so I thought I'd post this one anyway, even though it is a day late.:)
     Here we are, it's Wednesday again. And it's raining again!! Looks to me like a good day to read a good book! Have you read any lately? What's in your library bag this Wacky Wednesday?

     Did you know that it's National Poetry Month? Are you a poetry reader? Typically, I am not, except when I read to my children. Sometimes, when there isn't time for a long story, we'll read a few poems before bed. Inevitably, however, a few poems turns into lots of poems and reading them ends up taking longer than the story would have in the first place!:) We read things like Shel Silverstein, Jack Prelutsky, and a collection of Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis as our go to poems. 

     Some definite favorites include:

Sick by Shel Silverstein

Sick

“I cannot go to school today,”

Said little Peggy Ann McKay.

I have the measles and the mumps,

A gash, a rash and purple bumps.

My mouth is wet, my throat is dry,

I’m going blind in my right eye.

My tonsils are as big as rocks,

I’ve counted sixteen chicken pox.

And there’s one more—that’s seventeen,

And don’t you think my face looks green?

My leg is cut, my eyes are blue—

It might be instamatic flue.

I cough and sneeze and gasp and choke,

I’m sure that my left leg is broken—

My hips hurt when I move my chin,

My belly button’s caving in,

My back is wrenched, my ankle’s sprained,

My ‘pendix pains each time it rains.

My nose is cold, my toes are numb,

I have a silver in my thumb.

My neck is stiff, my voice is weak,

I hardly whisper when I speak.

My tongue is filling up my mouth,

I think my hair is falling out.

My elbow’s bent, my spine ain’t straight,

My temperature is one-o-eight.

My brain is shrunk, I cannot hear,

There is a hole inside my ear.

I have a hangnail, and my hart is—what?

What’s that? What’s that you say?

You say today is… Saturday?

G’bye, I’m going out to play!”

And....

"The Little Turtle"

There was a little turtle.
He lived in a box.
He swam in a puddle.
He climbed on the rocks.

He snapped at a mosquito.
He snapped at a flea.
He snapped at a minnow.
And he snapped at me.

He caught the mosquito.
He caught the flea.
He caught the minnow.
But he didn't catch me.

 Author: Vachel Lindsay - 1879-1931

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

One more funny one by Shel Silverstein....

Sarah Cynthia Sylvia Stout Would Not Take The Garbage Out

Sarah Cynthia Sylvia Stout

Would not take the garbage out!

She’d scour the pots and scrape the pans,

Candy the yams and spice the hams,

And though her daddy would scream and shout,

She simply would not take the garbage out.

And so it piled up to the ceilings:

Coffee grounds, potato peelings,

Brown bananas, rotten peas,

Chunks of sour cottage cheese.

It filled the can, it covered the floor,

It cracked the window and blocked the door

With bacon rinds and chicken bones,

Drippy ends of ice cream cones,

Prune pits, peach pits, orange peel,

Gloppy glumps of cold oatmeal,

Pizza crusts and withered greens,

Soggy beans and tangerines,

Crusts of black burned buttered toast,

Gristly bits of beefy roasts…

The garbage rolled on down the hall,

It raised the roof it broke the wall…

Greasy napkins, cookie crumbs,

Globes of gooey bubble gum.

Cellophane from green baloney,

Rubbery blubbery macaroni,

Peanut butter caked and dry,

Curdled milk and crust of pie,

Moldy melons, dried-up mustard,

Eggshells mixed with lemon custard,

Cold french fried and rancid meat,

Yellow lumps of Cream of Wheat.

At last the garbage reached so high

That finally it touched the sky.

And all the neighbors moved away,

And none of her friends would come to play.

And finally Sarah Cynthia Stout said,

“OK, I’ll take the garbage out!”

But then, of course, it was too late…

The garbage reached across the state,

From New York to the Golden Gate.

And there, in the garbage she did hate,

Poor Sarah met an awful fate,

That I cannot right now relate

Because the hour is much too late.

But children, remember Sarah Stout

And always take the garbage out!

Share some poetry with your children today!