Every Wednesday, the students study a poem, practice writing it, and take it home to read to their parents.  I have gotten a lot of feedback from parents over the years.  Many say they still have the poetry journal and it brings back wonderful memories.  I plan to incorporate more poems within lessons, in the month of April.  

What will you do to celebrate Poetry Month?

I personally like WordMover.  I love those little magnetic words and creating playful poems.  

Maria Shriver is currently challenging us to write a poem a day for April.  Time to start writing!


  1. in search of holy moments
    we neglect the experience
    that perfect second
    when souls ignite
    like matchstick heads
    in a single stroke
    we burn as one
    the wind our enemy
    terrified to be extinguished
    when the only concern
    the only objective
    should be what we can set
    on fire @poetmccaig

  1. How wonderful it is to think

    In a medley of red, gold, and pink

    A masterpiece so complete

    It encourages the eye not to blink

    Inspired we are by earth’s waking star

    A hidden treasure without monetary measure

    Complexity amass, understanding alas

    Our souls are cleansed by its golden bath

    What a delight to know

    The fabric of the sky will sew

    Threads of wonder for us all to ponder.

  1. breathe in light
    breathe out darkness
    breathe in love
    breathe out hate
    breathe in peace
    and hold

  1. Transcendental Picnic at the Vesceri’s

    Ah, it's 3pm and we're having a transcendental picnic at the Vesceri’s
    Like a Sunday afternoon baseball game where the veggie hot dogs
    Taste great though they don't bark (they never had a face in the first place).

    Yes, it's 3pm and we're having a transcendental picnic at the Vesceri’s
    And I dream of Monet’s Picnic in the Park at the Chicago Art Institute
    As my 10 toes caress the backyard grass under the big lips of the sun.

    Well what do you know, now it’s 4pm and the Vesceri’s home
    Has transformed into the Dutch school of painting,
    Look over there, the dining room is a Rembrandt.

    There’s Van Gogh with holes in his clothes
    And the superhero history man
    And the Maine flower, the beauty of every hour.

    Yes it is sweet to be at a transcendental picnic at the Vesceri’s

  1. Cricket’s Song

    When I awaken to sounds
    of mockingbirds and scents
    of jasmine blooming,

    and ducks begin
    their nods and bobs,
    and doves build nests,

    when breezes billow,
    fluttering their leaves,
    scattering pear blossoms,

    and winter slips away
    behind the blush of bronze
    on snow-topped peaks,

    I know that soon the earth
    will warm to sunlight’s touch
    and revel in the song of summer.

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