Poetry Celebrations to Slide through the Summer

Fluency Development Lesson (FDL)

Day 11. Introduce the poem by discussing the title and what your child thinks it might

be about.2. Read the poem to your child while he/she looks on at the printed text.3. Read it again and really focus on expression while reading.4. Have your child read the poem along with you.5. Provide time for your child to practice reading the poem on his/her own.6. Talk about the meaning of the poem.

Day 2 1. Reread the poem together.2. Have your child practice reading the poem aloud.3. Let your child create illustrations/drawings to go along with the poem.

Day 34. Reread the poem together.5. Have your child practice reading the poem aloud.6. Ask your child questions about the meaning of the poem. Use the question

stems that best fit the poem your child selected. Please make sure that your child uses/references the poem when answering the questions.

Why do you think…? What conclusions can you draw? What evidence can you find…? What is…? How is…? How would you explain…? How would describe…? How would you summarize…? How is ______related to_______? Why did the author choose…? What can you visualize? What connections can you make? What inferences can you make? Why did the author write the poem? How did you solve unknown words? How did you feel while reading the poem? Was there a lesson/moral of the poem?

How does this poem compare to others that you have read? What was the topic of the poem? If you could rename the poem, what would you call it? What was your favorite part of the poem and why?

7. After answering the questions you asked aloud, have your child respond to one of them by writing his/her answer down.

Day 4Poetry recital

1. Have your child gather his/her family members as an audience. You could also use neighborhood friends or stuffed animals.

2. Let your child “perform” in front of the group by reading the poem with expression. Celebrate his/her growth!

We Have a Little GardenBy Beatrix Potter We have a little garden,A garden of our own,And every day we water thereThe seeds that we have sown. We love our little garden,And tend it with such care,

You will not find a faded leafOr blighted blossom there.

Summer MorningBy Rachel FieldI saw dawn creep across the sky, And all the gulls go flying by. I saw the sea put on its dress Of blue midsummer loveliness, And heard the trees begin to stir Green arms of pine and juniper. I heard the wind call out and say: 'Get up, my dear, it is today!'

Barefoot DaysBy Rachel FieldIn the morning, very early, That's the time I love to go Barefoot where the fern grows curly And the grass is cool between each toe, On a summer morning - O! On a summer morning!

That is when the birds go by Up the sunny slopes of air, And each rose has a butterfly Or a golden bee to wear; And I am glad in every toe - Such a summer morning - O! Such a summer morning!

The CrocodileBy Lewis Carroll

How doth the little crocodileImprove his shining tail,And pour the waters of the NileOn every golden scale!

How cheerfully he seems to grin!How neatly spread his claws,And welcomes little fishes inWith gently smiling jaws!

Aim High to the Skyby James McDonald

Aim high to the sky,In all that you do.Because you just never know,What it takes to be you.

Be strong and be brave,But at the same time be kind.And always be sure,That you’re using your mind.

What Is Pink?By Christina Rossetti What is pink? A rose is pinkBy the fountain's brink.What is red? A poppy's red

In its barley bed.What is blue? The sky is blueWhere the clouds float through.What is white? A swan is whiteSailing in the light.What is yellow? Pears are yellow,Rich and ripe and mellow.What is green? The grass is green,With small flowers between.What is violet? Clouds are violetIn the summer twilight.What is orange? Why, an orange,Just an orange!

Source: http://www.familyfriendpoems.com/poem/what-is-pink-by-christina-rossetti

Now We Are SixBy A. A. Milne When I was one,I had just begun.When I was two,I was nearly new.When I was three,I was hardly me.When I was four,I was not much more.When I was five,I was just alive.But now I am six,I'm as clever as clever.So I think I'll be sixnow and forever.

Source: http://www.familyfriendpoems.com/poem/now-we-are-six-by-a-a-milne

The Road Goes Ever On

By J. R. R. Tolkien

The Road goes ever on and onDown from the door where it began.Now far ahead the Road has gone,And I must follow, if I can,Pursuing it with eager feet,Until it joins some larger wayWhere many paths and errands meet.And whither then? I cannot say.

Every Time I Climb a TreeBy David McCord

Every time I climb a treeEvery time I climb a treeEvery time I climb a treeI scrape a legOr skin a kneeAnd every time I climb a treeI find some antsOr dodge a beeAnd get the antsAll over me.

And every time I climb a treeWhere have you been?They say to meBut don’t they know that I am freeEvery time I climb a tree?

I like it bestTo spot a nestThat has an eggOr maybe three.

And then I skinThe other legBut every time I climb a treeI see a lot of things to seeSwallows rooftops and TV

And all the fields and farms there beEvery time I climb a treeThough climbing may be good for antsIt isn’t awfully good for pantsBut still it’s pretty good for meEvery time I climb a tree.

Bed In SummerBy Robert Louis Stevenson In Winter I get up at nightAnd dress by yellow candle light.In Summer, quite the other way,I have to go to bed by day.I have to go to bed and seeThe birds still hopping on the tree,Or hear the grown-up people's feetStill going past me in the street.And does it not seem hard to you,When all the sky is clear and blue,And I should like so much to play,To have to go to bed by day?

Source: http://www.familyfriendpoems.com/poem/bed-in-summer-by-robert-louis-stevenson

The Land Of NodBy Robert Louis Stevenson From breakfast on through all the dayAt home among my friends I stay,But every night I go abroadAfar into the land of Nod.All by myself I have to go,With none to tell me what to do–All alone beside the streamsAnd up the mountain-sides of dreams.The strangest things are these for me,Both things to eat and things to see,

And many frightening sights abroadTill morning in the land of Nod.Try as I like to find the way,I never can get back by day,Nor can remember plain and clearThe curious music that I hear.

The MoonBy Robert Louis Stevenson The moon has a face like the clock in the hall; She shines on thieves on the garden wall, On streets and fields and harbour quays, And birdies asleep in the forks of the trees.

The squalling cat and the squeaking mouse, The howling dog by the door of the house, The bat that lies in bed at noon, All love to be out by the light of the moon.

But all of the things that belong to the day Cuddle to sleep to be out of her way; And flowers and children close their eyes Till up in the morning the sun shall arise.

Source: http://www.familyfriendpoems.com/poem/the-moon-by-robert-louis-stevenson

Then LaughBy Bertha Adams Backus

Build for yourself a strong box,Fashion each part with care;When it’s strong as your hand can make it,Put all your troubles there;

Hide there all thought of your failures,And each bitter cup that you quaff;Lock all your heartaches within it,Then sit on the lid and laugh.

Tell no one else its contents,Never its secrets share;When you’ve dropped in your care and worryKeep them forever there;

Hide them from sight so completelyThat the world will never dream half;Fasten the strong box securely-Then sit on the lid and laugh.

Mother Doesn't Want A Dog By Judith Viorst

Mother doesn't want a dog.Mother says they smell,And never sit when you say sit,Or even when you yell.And when you come home late at nightAnd there is ice and snow,You have to go back out becauseThe dumb dog has to go.

Mother doesn't want a dog.Mother says they shed,And always let the strangers inAnd bark at friends instead,And do disgraceful things on rugs,And track mud on the floor,And flop upon your bed at nightAnd snore their doggy snore.

Mother doesn't want a dog.She's making a mistake.Because, more than a dog, I thinkShe will not want this snake.

Dream Variations

By Langston HughesTo fling my arms wideIn some place of the sun,To whirl and to danceTill the white day is done.Then rest at cool eveningBeneath a tall treeWhile night comes on gently,Dark like me-That is my dream!

To fling my arms wideIn the face of the sun,Dance! Whirl! Whirl!Till the quick day is done.Rest at pale evening...A tall, slim tree...Night coming tenderlyBlack like me.

The FishermanBy Abbie Farwell Brown The fisherman goes out at dawn When every one's abed, And from the bottom of the sea

Draws up his daily bread.

His life is strange ; half on the shore And half upon the sea -- Not quite a fish, and yet not quite The same as you and me.

The fisherman has curious eyes ; They make you feel so queer, As if they had seen many thingsOf wonder and of fear.

They're like the sea on foggy days, -- Not gray, nor yet quite blue ; They 're like the wondrous tales he tells Not quite -- yet maybe -- true.

He knows so much of boats and tides, Of winds and clouds and sky ! But when I tell of city things, He sniffs and shuts one eye !

Source: http://www.familyfriendpoems.com/poem/the-fisherman-by-abbie-farwell-brown

Puppy And I

By A. A. Milne I met a Man as I went walking:We got talking,Man and I."Where are you going to, Man?" I said(I said to the Man as he went by)."Down to the village, to get some bread.Will you come with me?" "No, not I."

I met a horse as I went walking;We got talking,

Horse and I."Where are you going to, Horse, today?"(I said to the Horse as he went by)."Down to the village to get some hay.Will you come with me?" "No, not I."

I met a Woman as I went walking;We got talking,Woman and I."Where are you going to, Woman, so early?"(I said to the Woman as she went by)."Down to the village to get some barley.Will you come with me?" "No, not I."

I met some Rabbits as I went walking;We got talking,Rabbits and I."Where are you going in your brown fur coats?"(I said to the Rabbits as they went by)."Down to the village to get some oats.Will you come with us?" "No, not I."

I met a Puppy as I went walking;We got talking,Puppy and I."Where are you going this nice fine day?"(I said to the Puppy as he went by)."Up to the hills to roll and play.""I'll come with you, Puppy," said I.

Dirty FaceBy Shel Silverstein Where did you get such a dirty face,My darling dirty-faced child? I got it from crawling along in the dirtAnd biting two buttons off Jeremy's shirt.I got it from chewing the roots of a roseAnd digging for clams in the yard with my nose.I got it from peeking into a dark caveAnd painting myself like a Navajo brave.I got it from playing with coal in the binAnd signing my name in cement with my chin.I got if from rolling around on the rugAnd giving the horrible dog a big hug.I got it from finding a lost silver mineAnd eating sweet blackberries right off the vine.I got it from ice cream and wrestling and tearsAnd from having more fun than you've had in years.

Source: http://www.familyfriendpoems.com/poem/dirty-face-by-shel-silverstein

The Pleasures of an Ordinary LifeBy Judith Viorst

I've had my share of necessary losses,Of dreams I know no longer can come true.I'm done now with the whys and the becauses.It's time to make things good, not just make do.It's time to stop complaining and pursueThe pleasures of an ordinary life.

I used to rail against my compromises.I yearned for the wild music, the swift race.But happiness arrived in new disguises:Sun lighting a child's hair. A friend's embrace.Slow dancing in a safe and quiet place.The pleasures of an ordinary life.

I'll have no trumpets, triumphs, trails of glory.It seems the woman I've turned out to beIs not the heroine of some grand story.But I have learned to find the poetryIn what my hands can touch, my eyes can see.

The pleasures of an ordinary life.

Young fantasies of magic and of mysteryAre over. But they really can't competeWith all we've built together: A long history.Connections that help render us complete.Ties that hold and heal us. And the sweet,Sweet pleasures of an ordinary life.

My ShadowBy Robert Louis Stevenson I have a little shadow that goes in and out with me,And what can be the use of him is more than I can see.He is very, very like me from the heels up to the head;And I see him jump before me, when I jump into my bed.The funniest things about him is the way he likes to grow-Not at all like proper children, which is always very slow;For he sometimes shoots up taller like an India rubber ball,And he sometimes gets so little that there's none of him at all.He hasn't got a notion of how children ought to play,And can only make a fool of me in every sort of way.He stays so close beside me, he's a coward you can see;I'd think shame to stick to nursie as that shadow sticks to me!One morning, very early, before the sun was up,I rose and found the shining dew on every buttercup;But my lazy little shadow, like an arrant sleepy-head,Had stayed at home behind me and was fast asleep in bed.

Source: http://www.familyfriendpoems.com/poem/my-shadow-by-robert-louis-stevenson

Sonnet 18:(Shall I Compare Thee to a Summer's Day)by William Shakespeare

Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate: Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May, And summer's lease hath all too short a date. Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines, And often is his gold complexion dimm'd, And every fair from fair sometime declines, By chance, or nature's changing course untrimm'd: But thy eternal summer shall not fade, Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow'st, Nor shall death brag thou wander'st in his shade, When in eternal lines to time thou grow'st, So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see, So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.

The Mountain And The SquirrelBy Ralph Waldo Emerson The mountain and the squirrelHad a quarrel,And the former called the latter"Little prig."Bun replied,"You are doubtless very big;But all sorts of things and weatherMust be taken in togetherTo make up a yearAnd a sphere.And I think it no disgraceTo occupy my place.If I'm not so large as you,You are not so small as I,And not half so spry:I'll not deny you makeA very pretty squirrel track.Talents differ; all is well and wisely put;If I cannot carry forests on my back,Neither can you crack a nut."

Source: http://www.familyfriendpoems.com/poem/the-mountain-and-the-squirrel-by-ralph-waldo-emerson

Teddy Bear

By A. A. Milne A bear, however hard he tries,Grows tubby without exercise.Our Teddy Bear is short and fat,Which is not to be wondered at;He gets what exercise he canBy falling off the ottoman,But generally seems to lackThe energy to clamber back.

Now tubbiness is just the thingWhich gets a fellow wondering;And Teddy worried lots aboutThe fact that he was rather stout.He thought: "If only I were thin!But how does anyone begin?"He thought: "It really isn't fairTo grudge me exercise and air."

For many weeks he pressed in vainHis nose against the window-pane,And envied those who walked aboutReducing their unwanted stout.None of the people he could see"Is quite" (he said) "as fat as me!"Then with a still more moving sigh,"I mean" (he said) "as fat as I!"

Now Teddy, as was only right,Slept in the ottoman at night,And with him crowded in as wellMore animals than I can tell;Not only these, but books and things,Such as a kind relation brings -Old tales of "Once upon a time",And history retold in rhyme.

One night it happened that he took A peep at an old picture-book,Wherein he came across by chanceThe picture of a King of France(A stoutish man) and, down below,These words: "King Louis So and So,Nicknamed 'The Handsome!' " There he sat,And (think of it) the man was fat!

Our bear rejoiced like anythingTo read about this famous King,Nicknamed the "Handsome." Not a doubt

The man was definitely stout.Why then, a bear (for all his tub)Might yet be named "The Handsome Cub!"

"Might yet be named." Or did he meanThat years ago he "might have been"?For now he felt a slight misgiving:"Is Louis So and So still living?Fashions in beauty have a wayOf altering from day to day.Is 'Handsome Louis' with us yet?Unfortunately I forget."

Next morning (nose to window-pane)The doubt occurred to him again.One question hammered in his head:"Is he alive or is he dead?"Thus, nose to pane, he pondered; butThe lattice window, loosely shut,Swung open. With one startled "Oh!"Our Teddy disappeared below.

There happened to be passing byA plump man with a twinkling eye,Who, seeing Teddy in the street,Raised him politely on his feet,And murmured kindly in his earSoft words of comfort and of cheer:"Well, well!" "Allow me!" "Not at all.""Tut-tut!" A very nasty fall."

Our Teddy answered not a word;It's doubtful if he even heard.Our bear could only look and look:The stout man in the picture-book!That "handsome" King - could this be he,This man of adiposity?"Impossible," he thought. "But still,No harm in asking. Yes, I will!"

"Are you," he said, "by any chanceHis Majesty the King of France?"The other answered, "I am that,"Bowed stiffly, and removed his hat;Then said, "Excuse me," with an air"But is it Mr. Edward Bear?"And Teddy, bending very low,Replied politely, "Even so!"

They stood beneath the window there,

The King and Mr. Edward Bear,And, handsome, if a trifle fat,Talked carelessly of this and that ...Then said His Majesty, "Well, well,I must get on," and rang the bell."Your bear, I think," he smiled. "Good-day!"And turned, and went upon his way.

A bear, however hard he tries,Grows tubby without exercise.Our Teddy Bear is short and fat,Which is not to be wondered at.But do you think it worries himTo know that he is far from slim?No, just the other way about -He's proud of being short and stout.

Source: http://www.familyfriendpoems.com/poem/teddy-bear-by-aa-milne