BOOK GIVEAWAY--Declaration of Interdependence: Poems for an Election Year by Janet Wong

Last February, I wrote a post about Janet Wong’s poetry collection Declaration of Interdependence: Poems for an Election Year.  You can read about the book here.

 

Declaration of Interdependence would be an excellent book to use in a middle grade classroom to spark a discussion about this year’s presidential election, voting and voting rights, electoral votes, and choosing a candidate—and a great way to integrate poetry and social studies!

Here’s one of the poems from the book:

Make Your Ballot Count

By Janet Wong

Darken the circles completely

(neatly, not outside the lines).

If you don’t know what to do

ask the helpers (follow the signs).

When you punch the holes, be firm

(no worm-like hanging chad).

When your vote is done,

your vote is gone.

A wrong vote? That’s too bad.

A wasted vote: so sad.

 

BOOK GIVEAWAY: I have three copies of Declaration of Interdependence (kindness of Janet Wong) to give away. If you’d like to have a chance to win a copy of the book, all you have to do is to leave a comment on this post. I’ll enter the names of all those who comment into a drawing and announce the names of the winners next Friday.

Janet Wong

Be sure to visit Janet’s The Declaration of Interdependence Blog.

About the blog: This community is dedicated to exploring topics raised in DECLARATION OF INTERDEPENDENCE: Poems for an Election Year by me (Janet Wong). In this book, you'll find topics such as liberty, the election, voting rights of kids, how to choose a president, the electoral vote, and more. Thanks for stopping by, and please jump in with your comments. Whether you're 9 years old or 90, we want to know what you're thinking!

 

 

THE SOUND OF FALL: An Original Animal Mask Poem

I wrote the first draft of the following animal mask poem last month. I kept fiddling with it over the weeks. I felt it needed a couple more lines—but hit a wall. Then, when I was in bed the other night, two lines just popped into my head.

Here is my most recent draft of that poem--which is told in the voice of migrating geese:

THE SOUND OF FALL

By Elaine Magliaro

So long…farewell. We’re on our way.

We must depart. We can’t delay
Our journey to a warmer clime.
Mother Nature warned: “It’s time!”
We’re heading south before the snow…
And winter winds begin to blow.
We leave you with our parting call—
Honk! Honk! Honk!
THAT’S the sound of fall.

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Laura Purdie Salas has the Poetry Friday Roundup at Writing the World for Kids.

P.S. Check out Laura’s terrific collection of poems about books and reading, BookSpeak! It would be an excellent book to share with elementary students.

 

BUSYBODY: An Animal Mask Poem



 

Yesterday, I watched my granddaughter Julia as she looked out the side door at two gray squirrels scampering along the old rock wall that serves as the boundary line between our “new” property and the property of our next door neighbors. It’s fun for me to look at a familiar scene like squirrels skittering around through the eyes of little Julia who gets so excited about such things. I enjoy  listening to her excited noises when she gets wrapped up in the wonder of things that are new to her young eyes.

 

Today, I’m sharing an animal mask poem. In it, I tried to capture the voice of a squirrel busy scavenging for food in autumn.

BUSYBODY

By Elaine Magliaro

I’m a hurrier
scurrier
scamperer
scavenger
searching for acorns
and maple tree seeds
stashing them now
for my wintertime needs.

It’s autumn…

I’m busy.
I’ve much work to do.
So sorry I can’t stop
To visit with you.

Must hurry,

Must scurry…
Can’t chatter today.
I’m busy…too busy
Must be on my way.

 

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Here are some pictures of Julia enjoying her first tastes of her Grampy’s yummy homemade lasagna:



 Here are two pictures that I took of her when we vacationed in Maine in late August:



 

Here is a picture that I took of Julia at her first birthday party in August:



 



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Marjorie has the Poetry Friday Roundup at Paper Tigers this week.

 

APPLES--A Memoir Poem

I apologize for being absent from Wild Rose Reader for so long. It has been an especially busy and hectic summer for me. Just this past month, I’ve attended two family weddings, celebrated my granddaughter Julia's first birthday, vacationed in Maine, and bought a house! My husband and I hadn’t planned on moving because we love the house we are living in at the present time--and we love our neighborhood. I have, however, been spending a lot of time away from home living at my daughter’s and providing daycare for my granddaughter. That has left me little time to read, write, blog, spend with my husband, or visit with friends and other family. My husband, daughter, son-in-law, and I decided a few months ago that it would best for all of us if we could find a home where we could all live together. I didn’t think we’d find the perfect place so soon...but we did. It was the first property that we looked at.

Here are some pictures that I took yesterday of the grounds around the house:

My daughter, son-in-law, and Julia will live in the main house—a Georgian farmhouse built around 1790--with an addition that was built circa 1850. My husband and I will live in the in-law suite--the carriage house that was converted into an apartment in 1999.

The original owner of the house was a woodworker and an apple farmer. In fact, he had an apple orchard on our property. The thought of an apple orchard brought to mind a memoir poem that I wrote about my maternal grandparents and the apples that grew in their yard.

APPLES

We tasted the green apples of summer,

watched the season pass through Dzidzi’s garden,

shared its bounty.

Now we help harvest the autumn apples.

Dzidzi places two large baskets beneath the tree.

He stands on a ladder and reaches for the highest apples.

We stand on wooden crates and pick apples

from the bottom branches

and salvage what we can from the ground.

In one basket we place the best apples we pick,

the eating apples, the perfect ones.

We fill the other basket with cooking apples—

the ones with brown spots and bruises

that Babci will cook into thick applesauce,

the ones she will bake in fat apple pies

steaming clouds of cinnamon spice,

the ones she will make perfect again.

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The Poetry Friday Roundup is at Random Noodling this week.

BACKYARD MERMAIDS: A Memoir Poem

Backyard Mermaids is a memoir poem. It relates a memory of one of the summer experiences I had with two of my first cousins at the home of my maternal grandparents. My cousins lived on one side of my grandparents’ house. We spent lots of vacation days together—running through the lawn sprinkler, picking vegetables in my grandfather’s garden, playing dress-up in the basement, meeting in our clubhouse under my grandparents’ front porch. 

 

BACKYARD MERMAIDS

An August afternoon,

the air hangs over us like a moist veil.

A cicada stings the silence.

Dzidzi turns on the sprinkler.

Thin ribbons of silver beads

stream upward, glisten in the sun.

We run back and forth through the tiny waterfall,

our bare feet squishing through wet grass,

liquid diamonds cooling our sunburned skin,

seaweed hair clinging to our heads and necks.

We are mermaids of the deep

and the sun, a giant topaz,

floats above us in a sea of sapphire blue.

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Violet Nesdoly has the Poetry FridayRoundup this week.