On this second to the last day of National Poetry Month my students and I are still writing poems. I woke this morning to a suggestion from Abigail at #writeout in the NWP Teachers Studio to go outside and find a poem.
So I pushed and shoved at my lesson plans for today to make room for getting out of the classroom to collect a poem. We grabbed our sketchbooks and pencils and headed out toward the pollinator garden which sits on the edge of the playground. My directions to my first graders were to collect 5 words or ideas (they could sketch if there was time) and that when we returned to the classroom, they would turn those words or ideas into a poem.
As they reminded me, we do this kind of thing pretty regularly–sometimes by taking photos, sometimes with sketchbooks. So, they knew what to do. There’s plenty for curious kids to pay attention to: the playground ball stuck in the tree, the plant growing in the middle of another plant, bees buzzing, rocks and wood chips and so much more.
And when we got back inside, the writing began. All this happened toward the end of the school day, so there was not much time left for the writing, but we did take the time to share a few of these poems in progress. Here’s a sampling.
M asked me if showering was a real word as he composed.
A rock
near a tree with rosemary around it
plain brown wood
wood chips surround it
far away a red ball
trapped in a
forest of flowers
with the sun
showering it.
J loved her last line too.
Berries sway
palm trees blow
the bees pollinate
the red flower
sways in the
clouds.
C was playing around with rhyme.
A plant inside a plant
how could that be?
A flower sunbathing on a leaf.
It looks like you humans
sunbathing.
A blue flower
that’s a good power.
A red ball in a tree
that’s new for me.
A red ball in a plant
that’s good for an ant.
And for V, just a bit of fantasy.
I walk down the blue staircase
and sit under an umbrella
and in the distance
I see a meadow
with flowers as bright as the sun.
I take a drink of my lemonade
and the glass shattered
to pieces.
And my own writing (done with the kids).
In a space made for play
boulders are tables
and the comfiest of chairs
purple flowers mumble
while bees buzz, sipping week nectar
abandoned sweatshirts slouch
against brightly colored walls
and high in a tree
a red ball watches and waits
to be freed