tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8376105108093150009.post8255330598038792039..comments2024-03-04T08:26:00.592-08:00Comments on Little Pitchers: Reading Poetry With ChildrenBecky Pitcherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18125808612297417061noreply@blogger.comBlogger5125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8376105108093150009.post-30492612782706571472015-10-06T20:30:43.862-07:002015-10-06T20:30:43.862-07:00I love love love Carl Sandburg. I didn't disco...I love love love Carl Sandburg. I didn't discover him til freshman year of college, where I found a collection of his works in the clearance section of the BYU bookstore, but it was love at first poem. I'm glad you included him in your list. post9https://www.blogger.com/profile/09792042486573915066noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8376105108093150009.post-49373166072214451712015-10-06T20:05:27.656-07:002015-10-06T20:05:27.656-07:00I discovered poetry was cool at hockey camp when I...I discovered poetry was cool at hockey camp when I was 12 or 13 years old. On the first day of camp, after spending two-and-a-half hours skating, sweating, checking, and bleeding, my teammates and I were sprawled about the locker room trying to figure out how to get air into our tortured lungs. Our coach for the week was an NHL player from the NJ Devils and he had just put us through the most intense physical trial of our young lives. He was brutal. More than one young man mentioned going home. As we contemplated the likelihood of dying from pain, he entered the room and said something about training the body, heart, AND mind. Then the most amazing thing happened, he recited poetry. I have NO idea what poem it was. I can't recall anything specific about it. But I remember it was funny. He was animated and lively in the telling, and it was not quite appropriate for preteens. And it was no limerick. It was long. While there wasn't enough oxygen in my cerebral cortex to remember the words, I do remember laughing. Indeed, there was sixteen of us laughing our asses off at a 20 year-old demigod of hockey cavorting around a bunch of a smelly, sweaty boys, rolling rhyme and rhythm into a place never expected. <br /><br />When I got home I memorized my first poem - Sir Patrick SpensChrishttps://www.blogger.com/profile/07985866467130523161noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8376105108093150009.post-14861091301619359782015-10-06T19:38:55.042-07:002015-10-06T19:38:55.042-07:00*Louis*LouisElizabethhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/06968499163499682050noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8376105108093150009.post-31052441760164239102015-10-06T19:37:44.893-07:002015-10-06T19:37:44.893-07:00Do you have Robert Lewis Stevenson's "A C...Do you have Robert Lewis Stevenson's "A Child's Garden of Verses"? I know you said you do not like him as much, but he is special to me because the 1st poem I memorized at 6 was his poem, At the Seaside. I also super love his Land of Nod poem as well.Elizabethhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/06968499163499682050noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8376105108093150009.post-41208288608909662332015-10-06T16:36:40.881-07:002015-10-06T16:36:40.881-07:00Do you and the boys have a copy of Stinky Cheese M...Do you and the boys have a copy of Stinky Cheese Man, if not I will get you one. Some of those books look like they came from my house, especially the old blue one. Also, have you seen the little book of poems from my Dad - Poems by Grandpa Arnold? Written many, many years ago when his grandchildren were quite young. He loved poetry and wrote it at the strangest times, like while at a fancy dinner, he would write on a napkin, or he would make up poems to entertain a fussy baby. He made up one to replace "this little piggy" called Mr. Moe (the big toe).Nana Bhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/11131350223052474249noreply@blogger.com