Two Poems By Black Poets

By Myself

When I'm by myself
And I close my eyes
I'm a twin
I'm a dimple in a chin
I'm a room full of toys
I'm a squeaky noise
I'm a gospel song
I'm a gong
I'm a leaf turning red
I'm a loaf of brown bread
I'm a whatever I want to be
And when I open my eyes
What I care to be
Is me
                     Eloise Greenfield


Harlem

What happens to a dream deferred?
Does it dry up
Like a raisin in the sun?
Or fester like a sore--
And then run?
Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over--
Like a syrupy sweet?

Maybe it just sags
Like a heavy load.

Or does it just explode?

                              Langston Hughes

What Have You Been Wondering Lately?

I Wonder

I wonder how it would feel
If I 
Could walk on the ceiling
Like a fly--
Or instead of sleeping
Stetched out flat
Slept upside down
Like a bat.
I wonder how I would look
If I
Had bright, colored wings
Like a butterfly--
Or instead of having
A short little nose,
Like an elephant's trunk,
Mine touched my toes.

                                                Laura Arlon

Home

We have all been spending lots of time in and around our homes.  This poem looks at what makes the place you live a home.

A House, A Home

What is a house?
   It's brick and stone
   and wood that's hard.
   Some window glass
   and perhaps a yard.
   It's eaves and chimneys
   and tile floors
   and stucco and roof
   and lots of doors.

What is a home?
   It's loving and family
   and doing for others.
   It's brothers and sisters
   and fathers and mothers.
   It's unselfish acts
   and kindly sharing
   and showing your loved ones
   you're always caring.
                                       
                                               Lorraine M. Halli

What does home mean to you?

The Pet of the Day is a Hamster

Dinky Trails

I had a hamster named Dinky you see,
she had a habit of escaping to locate me.
She’d prowl the house, all night long,
It’s obvious, her searches were often, prolonged.

At times I’d feel her in my bed,
though I was never filled with dread;
for Dinky loved me, oh so dearly,
such passion, she poured into the search, clearly.

Hamsters are like little Houdini’s,
escaping in oh, time’s aplenty.
Dinky was so easy to find,
her tiny trails, I didn’t mind.

Though once or twice, they were quite high,
filling my chest of drawers, so wide.
Between the layers, tiny brown piddles,
her executed escapes, left one big riddle.

Short of a padlock, her home was secured,
with fitted tops, stacks of books, hooks and boards.
But, Dinky Houdini, pulled off many escapes
and I never knew, to what, I’d awake.

I Once Had A Pet...

turtle

The turtle
Does little
But sleep
On a stone,
Alone
In his glass
Bowl.

Is he bored
By it all?
Does he hope
Something
Will happen,
After a hundred
Naps?

Or is it enough
To wake
Quietly,
Shawled
In the shade
Of his
Shell?
   
             Valerie Worth

A Cat's Work is Never Done!

Busy Busy                  

It's 8 am and time to nap
It's 10 am and time to relax
It's 12 pm and time to doze 
It's 3 pm and time to zonk out
It's 6 pm and time to slumber          
It's 9 pm and time to snooze
It's 12 am and time to sleep
It's 4 am and time to hang upside down from your bedroom ceiling, screaming.
                                                     

                                                           

                                                           

Pet Week

This week I'll be sharing poems about different kinds of pets.  
Send me a picture and some information or a poem about your pet and I will post it here!

Puppies

There were puppies on the sofa
   And puppies on the chairs
And puppies in the dining room
   And on the cellar stairs
There were cold ones on the icebox
   And hot ones near the stove
There were puppies by the pack and herd
   And puppies by the drove 
There were puppies in  the parlor
   And puppies in the hall
And puppies on the porch and roof 
   And on the garden wall
There were puppies in the attic
   In the bedroom
In the den
   And even in the closets
There were puppies (nine or ten)
   "Look at all those puppies, Henry.
Aren't they just dear?"
   "Enjoy them while they're puppies, Jane
They'll be full-grown dogs next year."

                                                                              Jack Kent

I notice the word puppies is repeated in practically every other line of the poem.  This reinforces the idea that there are so many puppies.  What is something you notice about the poem?