Books Discover Children for Poetry Friday

J. Patrick Lewis sent me this lovely poem that I thought I'd share in honor of Poetry Friday:

Books Discover Children
by J. Patrick Lewis

Yes, children do discover books,
But books find children on their own,
And then can’t wait to get their hooks
In kids who think they’re all alone.

For instance, Goodnight Moon knows why
That girl is thinking to herself,
How can I ever say good-bye….
The rabbit pulls her to the shelf.

And Frog and Toad hops to the child
Who almost lost his closest friend:
The only way pain’s reconciled
Is by the letter that you send.

When Charlotte’s Web bumps into you—
A girl who’s fastened to a farm—
The simple life you thought you knew
Is spelled out in a spider’s charm.

As children hurry to the page,
The picture page talks back by turns,
Capturing kids of every age
For whom imagination burns.

Poems for Grace and Robert

Elaine has recently posted two lovely poems on Wild Rose Reader for Grace and Robert that really touched me. Read them here and here.

Poetry Friday--an ode to school librarians

Hey, look--two posts in two days! The other day, the lovely J. Patrick Lewis left a comment and poem on my blog, and I thought I'd re-post it as my first-ever Poetry Friday post:

Apropos of nothing at all, Alvina, I wanted to share with you my admiration for school librarians. I meet so many of them on author visits. Anyway, here's a
new sonnet:

xo, Pat

School Librarian Day
April 4

The School Librarian

A sign hangs on her door,
BOOKLYN, NEW YORK [sic]
WE OPEN UP THE MIND
YOU’LL NEVER CLOSE!
When you walk in, the whole library knows—
A welcome bell hums like a tuning fork.
She’ll tell you what to read and what to skip.
You name a book; she heads right to the shelf.
The rumor is she’s read them all herself.
No one has ever run a tighter ship.
These days, a job like hers is electronic
Because computers answer every need.
Librarians belong to a new breed.
But here at Booklyn, isn’t it ironic?
She still treats books like they are dreams come true.
And you had better treat them that way, too.

Thanks, Pat! Happy Friday, everyone.

What Poetry Form Are You?

I've never participated in Poetry Fridays, so in honor of the day:

I am the sonnet, never quickly thrilled; Not prone to overstated gushing praise Nor yet to seething rants and anger, filled With overstretched opinions to rephrase; But on the other hand, not fond of fools, And thus, not fond of people, on the whole; And holding to the sound and useful rules, Not those that seek unjustified control. I'm balanced, measured, sensible (at least, I think I am, and usually I'm right); And when more ostentatious types have ceased, I'm still around, and doing, still, alright. In short, I'm calm and rational and stable - Or, well, I am, as much as I am able. What Poetry Form Are You?

Thanks to Fuse#8 for the link!