Tulip Sunday - Laura Ranger

Today is National Poetry Day and a range of poetry related activities have been planned all around the country. I thought about which poem I'd like to share ... then remembered the poem that came to mind was already my pick for National Poetry Day in 2009. It's still my favourite, but got me thinking about the appeal of particular poems and led to my selection for this year.

Tulip Sunday was written by a local poet, Laura Ranger, when she was just 6 years old. Her poetry collection, Laura's Poems, was published when I first started teaching and I loved using her writing as models for teaching poetic language - beautiful examples that children could relate to, especially as they were written by another child the same age and Tulip Sunday is a local event marking the start of spring each year. The final two lines of Tulip Sunday have stayed in my mind and remain a wonderful use of child-like personification.

Tulip Sunday by Laura Ranger, age 6

In the Botanical Gardens
bright tulips
spread out
like a yellow tablecloth
on a table with thousands of legs.

Some tulips
have red lips
and dark black eyes.
They bow and curtsy
in the wind.

National Poetry Day 2009

The Well Read Kitty informs us that today is National Poetry Day in New Zealand. Montana has been sponsoring this literary event since 1998. The first time I was aware of it was at a former workplace when a number of poems popped into my inbox one Friday from various staff members, encompassing a wide range of topics, styles and moods. That practice was, sadly, stamped out in future years once staff were prohibited from sending blanket emails to all other staff members. However, I fondly remember the poetic surprises of that day.

To be honest, while I am struck by the beauty of words and can happily read prose for hours on end, I struggle with poetry (apart from song lyrics). Try as I might, I end up expending unreasonably amounts of energy my the effort to decipher the poetic language, the meter, and whatever hidden meaning I'm sure is lurking behind the words I read at face value. I end up incredibly frustrated (at myself, more than anything else) and it usually doesn't end well, lol.

But here is a poem I've enjoyed since my childhood, possibly because I first heard it as a beautiful piano piece played by Rowlf the Dog (of The Muppet Show fame) and sung by Kermit's little nephew, Robin. It was written by A A Milne and is short and sweet. It doesn't really mean anything; it is loosely about being happy with indecisiveness. That sums me up perfectly at the moment.

Halfway down the stairs, by A A Milne

Halfway down the stairs
Is a stair where I sit.
There isn't any other stair quite like it.
I'm not at the bottom,
I'm not at the top,
So this is the stair where I always stop.

Halfway up the stairs
Isn't up, and isn't down.
It isn't in the nursery, it isn't in the town.
And all sorts of funny thoughts
Run round my head:
"It isn't really anywhere! It's somewhere else instead!"

Care to share your favourite poem for National Poetry Day today?