Post on 24-Feb-2016
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DESCRIPTIONLine Breaks. Here’s what to do with “The Big Field” by Donald Graves. - PowerPoint PPT Presentation
Line BreaksHeres what to do with The Big Field by Donald Graves.Mr. Gammons mows the big field with his tractor, then rakes and bundles hay for the barn. George and I grab our bats, gloves, and balls and race across the field like major leaguers in spring training. We hit long flies to each other all afternoon, never lose a ball in the stubble, and dont stop until Mother calls us for supper. Line BreaksThe Big FieldMr. Gammons mows the big fieldwith his tractor,then rakes and bundleshay for the barn. George and Igrab our bats,gloves, and ballsand race across the filedlike major leaguersin spring training.We hit long fliesto each otherall afternoon,never lose a ballin the stubble,and dont stopuntil Mother callsus for supper.- Donald Graves
Line Breaks click for sample
http://www.readwritethink.org/classroom-resources/student-interactives/line-break-explorer-30018.html3That Reminds MeI was sitting by a stream When I saw a grasshopper hop from a rockAnd land on the other sideAnd it reminded me of how we used to jumpAcross the puddles in the drivewayAfter a summer rain-Except the grasshopper didnt get all wet-And didnt get the giggles.I was sitting on the porchWhen I saw a squirrel in the weeping willow treeVaulting through the airTo anther limbAnd it reminded me of how we used to tie ourselvesInto the lows branches of that treeAnd runAnd swingUp off the groundWe were like flying squirrelsI was lying on my back in the grassWhen I saw a maple leaf fall off a high branchAnd float in the windOut past the top of my headAnd it reminded me of the time our kite string brokeAnd the kite soared out over the top of the hillAnd we never saws it againI still think about that old kiteAnd it reminds me of you-Will Mowery
Walking With My Iguana.Im walkingwith my iguana
Im walkingwith my iguana
When the temperature risesto above eighty-five,my iguana is lookinglike hes coming alive.
So we make it to the beach,my iguana and me,then he sits on my shoulderas we stroll by the sea. . .
and Im walkingwith my iguana
Well if anyone sees uswere a big surprise,my iguana and meon our daily exercise,
till somebody phonesthe local policesays Ive got an alligatortied to a leash.
when Im walkingwith my iguana
Im walkingwith my iguana
Its the spines on his backthat make him look grim,but he just loves to be tickledunder his chin.
And I know that my iguanais ready for bedwhen he puts on his pyjamasand lays down his sleepy head.
And Im walkingwith my iguana
still walkingwith my iguana
With my iguanawith my iguanaand my piranhaand my Chihuahuaand my chinchilla,with my gorilla,my caterpillarand Im walkingwith my iguanawith my iguanawith my iguanaYou can hear it at this website.http://www.poetryarchive.org/poetryarchive/singlePoem.do?poemId=52
After reading aloud to students, let them choral read a couple of times to get the rhythm of it. Next, let the children work in partners, or independent if they wish, choosing a favorite animal and create their own poem with their animal. For a bigger challenge, have them choose a new animal AND a new verb for their original poetry.5Pencil SharpenerBy Zoe Ryder WhiteI think there are a hundred beesinside the pencil sharpenerand they buzzand buzzand buzzuntil my point is sharp!CeilingBy Zoe Ryder WhiteThe ceilingis the skyfor the classroom
Bear In Thereby Shel SilversteinThere's a Polar BearIn our Frigidaire--He likes it 'cause it's cold in there.With his seat in the meatAnd his face in the fishAnd his big hairy pawsIn the buttery dish,He's nibbling the noodles,He's munching the rice,He's slurping the soda,He's licking the ice.And he lets out a roarIf you open the door.And it gives me a scareTo know he's in there--That Polary BearIn our Fridgitydaire.
The Tree On The Cornerby Lilian Moore Ive seenthe tree on the cornerin spring budand summer green.Yesterdayit was yellow gold.Then a coldwind began to blow.Now I know you really do not seea treeuntil you seeits bones
Umbrellasby Maxine W. KuminIts raining in the city.I hope it rains for hours.All of the umbrellasOpen up like flowers.Come look out my window!Polka dots in linesWag their stems andTilt to read the signs.Plaid ones cross at cornersStriped ones wave about.Its raining in the city;The flowers have come out
Crickets, Valerie WorthCricketsTalkIn the tallGrassAllLate summerLong.WhenSummerIs gone,The dryGrassWhispersAlone.
Some lovely small poems by Valerie Worth:chairsChairsSeemToSitDownOnThemselves, almost as ifThey were people,Some fat, some thin;Settled comfortablyOn their own seats,Some even stretch out their armsToRest.
.sunThe sunIs a leaping fireToo hotTo go near,But it will stillLie downIn warm yellow squaresOn the floorLike a flatQuilt, whereThe cat can curlAnd purr.
The Poem that Got AwayBy Felice HolmanThere I was and in it cameThrough the fogbank of my brainFrom the fastness of my soulShining like a glowing coal The nearly perfect poem!Oh, it may have needed justAn alteration here or thereA little tuck, a little seamTo be exactly what I mean The really perfect poemIll write it later on, I said,The ideas clear and sos my head.This pen I have is nearly dry.What Ill do now is finish this pie,Then on to the perfect poem!With pen in hand quite full of inkI try not to recall.Ive plenty of time in which to thinkBut the poem went down the kitchen sinkWith the last of the perfect pie.
safety pinValerie WorthClosed, it sleepsOn its sideQuietly,The silverImageOf someSmall fish;Opened, it snapsIts tail outLike a thinShrimp,and looksAt the sharpPoint with aSurprised eye
DANDELION - by Valerie WorthOut ofGreen space,A sun:Bright forA day, burningAway toA husk, aCratered moon:BurstIn a weekTo dust:SeedingThe infinitieLawn withIts starrySmithereens.
Spring SeedsBy: Douglas Florian
We tilled the earth,
Took out the weeds,
Then in the soil
Spring succeeds ex-seed-ing-ly.
Baseball Cards #1BY JIM DANIELSOneof the 10,342 baseball cards in my parents atticsneezes in the dampness, rememberssweaty hands.He calls to me across hundreds of miles:Remember me, Jake Wood, 1964, 2nd base, Detroit Tigers,Series 2, No. 272?He wants to stretch his legs, climb outfrom between Wilbur Wood and the 4th Series Checklistwants to outsail all the other cardsin a game of farthies, float downon Jose Tartabull in a game of tops.He wants to smell like fresh from the packwants to be perfumed againwith the pink smell of bubble gum.
All the leaves have turned to cornflakes.It looks as if some giants baby brotherhad tipped the boxand scattered them upon our lawn-millions and millions of cornflakes-crunching, crunching under our feet.When the wind blows,they rattle against each other,nervously chattering.
We rake them into piles-Dad and I.Piles and piles of cornflakes!A breakfast for a whole family of giants!We do not talk much as we rake-A word here-A word there.The leaves are never silent.
Inside the house my mother is packingShort sleeved shirts and faded bathing suits-Rubber clogs and flippers-In a box marked SUMMER.
We are rakingDad and I.
Inside My Heart by Zoe Ryder WhiteInside my heart livesone birthday partytwo jazz bandsthree wrestling puppiesfour dancing birdsfive laughing babiessix blasting spaceshipsseven lucky fireflies and a sky full of stars
Falling Leavesby Jack PrelutskyLittle leaves fall softly downRed and yellow, orange and brownWhirling, twirling round and roundFalling softly to the groundLittle leaves fall softly downTo make a carpet on the ground.Then, swish, the wind comes whistling byAnd sends them dancing to the sky.
When the Roses Revolted When the Roses RevoltedThe roses were fed up. They were sick sick sick of being symbols for love. One night they revolted, crept out of flower shops, jumped out of windows and touched the dirt! They spent that night drinking real night air, carousing with clover, boogying with bluebells, dancing with dandelions, and in this way they rediscovered their roots. ~ Ralph Fletcher
Fog by Carl Sandburg The fog comeson little cat feet.It sits lookingover harbor and cityon silent haunches and then moves on.
Some one by Walter De la Mare.
Some one came knockingAt my wee, small door;Someone came knocking;I'm sure-sure-sure;I listened, I opened,I looked to left and right,But nought there was a stirringIn the still dark night;Only the busy beetleTap-tapping in the wall,Only from the forestThe screech-owl's call,Only the cricket whistlingWhile the dewdrops fall,So I know not who came knocking,At all, at all, at all.
DREAMS by Langston HughesHold fast to dreamsFor if dreams dieLife is a broken-winged birdThat cannot fly.Hold fast to dreamsFor when dreams goLife is a barren fieldFrozen with snow.The Tree On The Cornerby Lilian MooreIve seenthe tree on the cornerin spring budand summer green.Yesterdayit was yellow gold.Then a coldwind began to blow.Now I know you really do not seea treeuntil you seeits bones.PAPER CLIPSBy Rebecca Kai DotlichWith tiny teethof tinthey takeone slender breathbefore they makea move,and then ---a silver pinch!With jawsno biggerthan an inchthese dragon gripsare small and slight ---but conquer pageswithonebite!
Foghornsby Langston HughesThe foghorns moaned in the bay last night so sad so deepI thought I heard the city crying in its sleep
CityIn the morning the citySpreads its wingsMaking a songIn stone that sings.In the evening the cityGoes to bedHanging lights About its head.Langston Hughes
April Rain SongBYLANGSTON HUGHESLet the rain kiss you.Let the rain beat upon your head with silver liqu