Poetry Friday

In honor of Memorial Day on Monday and our thanks and appreciation for all those who have served, currently serve and will serve this country.

A HUMAN RACE

Many a man has risked his life,
To end the beginning of toil and strife.

For in our world of fear and doubt,
We ask ourselves why and what it's all about.
It seems each generation has to face a war
Of senseless killings for reasons we're not sure.

But it's our minds that are captured,
Like a helpless slave in this land of the free and the home of the brave.

And it's our hearts that are heavy
With pounding of sorrow while our
souls are searching for a better tomorrow.

But the Truth still remains that this country's people
Have fought and died for an "American Dream" of dignity and pride.

Written from the heart by Drew Berman

Thank you to all who have given to their country.

Poetry Friday

It's Friday and that means time to explore the world of poetry again. I went out looking for a poem about fishing and didn't find anything right away. I'm preparing for class visits next week and didn't have time to do a thorough search so instead I pulled a poem from "Anthology of Minnesota Verse" copyright 1934. So enjoy your weekend of the fishing opener and enjoy the season of spring.

"A Song of Spring"

John Allison Haining

Out on the plain with the gray dusk falling,

Out where the landscape is sear and dun,

I hear the voice of the springtime calling

Its furloughed officers, one by one.

The lark with a voice like a silver bugle

Proudly marshalls his feathered clans;

On the arid wastes where the yield is frugal

And nature's bounty surpasses man's.

Down in the slough, with its new green cover

The wild duck stealthily builds her nest;

The prairie hen and the golden plover

Welcome the season they love the best.

Out where the sun is slowly setting

The prairie kisses the mountain's feet.

The frolicking winids are gay, and fretting

The purple sage that is pure and sweet.

Out on the plains with the new life springing

Forth at the beck of the glowing sun,

The world is filled with a joyous singing

For winter has vanished, his race is run.

I will be taking the top four titles from the Borderland Reads balloting and talk them up in the fifth and sixth grade classes next week and have them vote for their favorite. I will post here next Friday which title will be the summer Borderland Reads title.

Until then,

Diane

Poetry Friday

It is time to resume posting poetry on Friday. If you enjoy poetry or write some of your own, feel free to forward me copies and I will be happy to share with fellow readers.

This week has felt a bit out of control so I thought I would share with you one of my favorite writers and one of her poems on life.

Act III, Scene II
Someone has altered the script.
My lines have been changed.
The other actors are shifting roles.
They don't come on when they're expected to,
and they don't say the lines I've written
and I'm being upstaged.

I thought I was writing this play
with a rather nice role for myself,
small, but juicy
and some excellent lines.
But nobody gives me my cues
and the scenery has been replaced
and I don't recognize the new sets.
This isn't the script I was writing.
I don't understand this play at all.

To grow up
is to find
the small part you are playing
in this extraordinary drama
written by
somebody else.

by Madeleine L'Engle
(from The Ordering of Love)

Have a great weekend and check back next week, unless I end up on jury duty in which case the blog will probably not be deemed important enough to be added to.