A Children's Garden of Poetry: The Poetry Foundation; Daffodils, The Tropics in New York, & Hope Is the Thing With Feathers

• Daffodils : A Child's Garden of Poetry : Video : The Poetry Foundation 

"Daffodils," by William Wordsworth. Read by Dave Matthews.

• http://www.poetryfoundation.org/features/video/289 

"The Tropics in New York," by Claude McKay. Read by Ziggy Marley.

• http://www.poetryfoundation.org/features/video/287 

"Hope Is the Thing With Feathers," by Emily Dickinson. Read by Claire Danes and signed by Rachel (age 9).

Each is a link to small clips from a "movie," I watched last night. It's thirty minutes long, but it's absolutely wonderful and I highly recommend it. It was created by The Poetry Foundation, it's called "A Children's Garden of Poetry." I really, really enjoyed it and actually plan to watch it for the second time this evening. It is available for order on Netflix and I know that it can also be purchased on Amazon. I want it! Again, this is a tiny bit that only shows a couple sides to this video. I encourage you to watch the full thing any time you get a chance. You won't regret it! 

Darrell the Ghost (Written by Penny Hickenbothom)

I recently found an author of adorable and quirky short stories named Penny Hickenbothom. She writes in an almost amateur way, child-like and creative, slightly reminding me of an author by the name of Barbara Park. Park wrote a series called Junie B. Jones, and when I was younger I read that series religiously. I still love the books a ton. Anyhow, I'd like to share a couple of Ms. Hickenbothom's stories with you. The first is entitled, "Darrell the Ghost." Enjoy!

     Darrell is a ghost. He lives on the twenty-fourth floor of the second tallest building in the ninth largest city in the United States. Down in the floor underneath Darrell's floor lives a little boy who is nine and three quarters and is so excited because he knows that soon he will be ten years old! He will pretty much be all grown up. Sometimes though, the little boy doesn't feel grown up. Especially when he's trying to go to sleep. It's not the boy's fault though- really! Darrell likes to float in and fly around his room and whisper and make funny noises, and it really scares the little boy. Normally the little boy gets under the covers and talks to himself until he passes out, but one night he decided that enough was enough. Darrell was not going to bother him anymore! So he waited, and when Darrell came to him, the little boy told him that he wasn't going to let him scare him anymore. Well, Darrell didn't like that. He started screaming and wailing and just being a big 'ole meanie. So the little boy did the only thing he knew to do: he went and got his dad. Maybe- maybe he was too old to get in bed with his parents, but he knew he wasn't too old for his dad to come. So he ran to his dad's room and said,
     "Daddy, there's a mean ghost in my room and I can't go to sleep..." So his dad got up and went and sat with his little son.
     The dad sat and talked to his boy and told him stories about when he was a little boy and how his dad would rub his head and talk to him, and then his dad told him about how strong he is, and then, because the boy was still awake, the dad began to sing to him in his deep, baritone voice. Maybe it was the nice, calming tune, or maybe it was the sound of his father's voice, but the little boy knew that the feel of his father's low humming rumbling against his ear was the most warm and relaxing feeling, and soon the boy was sound-asleep. The boy's dad then slipped away to his warm room and thought of his own dad... And while everyone slipped into their dreams, Darrell just sat and smiled.

This next story didn't appear to have a title, so I'll just present the goods!

     There is a big building in which children come to learn every single day. We come because we're told that attendance is crucial for our future, because our parents expect it- but mostly because if we don't, we will be punished by death! Going into this building would not be so awful in itself except the building has no windows. Apparently windows promote daydreaming, which leads to time being wasted... That's something that I've always had trouble coming to full grips with. My day dreams are my freedom to a deeper level of my mind: an avenue into my soul. So I dream. It was quite an amazing discovery one day to find that the bathroom in the hallway of the top floor had a stall at the end with a ginormous window! It was locked shut and the glass was fogged over, so even though it allowed in light, staring out wasn't an option. Sitting there feeling more distressed than ever before, I'd noticed the locks were very rusty. It took no strength at all to get the window open! Immediately a gust of clean, unfiltered, invisible air teared my eyes and brushed my face! Opening it more, I could see a field with two or three trees blowing gently, showing no resistance to what the breeze demanded of them. My eyes were as wide as I could make them, trying to get as much of this sight in as I could possibly pull through that window. It didn't feel like I was stealing the sight; it was more like I was sharing with the life outside of this hard building. Realizing I had no more time, I pulled my pants up, and like many other eight year old boys, I forgot to zip them properly. Rushing into my art class, my evil art teacher showed me one of her terrible faces and proceeded to yell as the whole class could hear what she said... That is all but me. Seeing that sight was all I needed! I was addicted to that one breath of freedom far from that cold art classroom. The paint colors were pale and left wanting. As soon as class was over I ran back to that bathroom. I know, it's just school! Why couldn't I have just waited 'til school was over? Because as an eight year old, seven hours of school felt like an entire period of seven days! Well after a couple of weeks of my sneaking off, my friends got suspicious. They followed me one day, and when they discovered what I was doing, they tried to stop me, but quickly I realized that they wanted in. Now by this time I had made myself a little home in that stall! The toilet was replaced by a bean bag chair, the walls had been painted a nice green, and I kept a candle burning at all times. I was hesitant to share my slice of heaven with my friends, mostly because of all I had done to make it mine.
     Who am I to keep this window from them? I thought. So I began to allow them time to stare and daydream to their hearts' desire!- for one quarter every minute. This I did feel bad about, but candles are not cheap! Sadly, things don't last forever. One day I went to my beloved double wide bathroom stall with a window to find it was locked. What! Nobody uses this without my permission! I waited and waited, for like fifteen seconds, and then I knocked. I heard a flush and out wheeled a handicapped kid. He had a smirk on his face!
     "What are you smiling about, rolly!" He wheezed and then just pointed. My stall had been changed back to how it was when I found it. Except one thing: the window was boarded up!
     "No!" I screamed. The handicapped kid cackled and did donuts in his chair. My friends and evil teacher ran in and all started laughing at me and calling me names, so I quickly stuffed toilet paper in all the toilets, flooded them, and broke through the window! The fall was painful, but the sweetness of freedom was better! I made it away and lived in a tree fort! Eventually some of my friends joined me. Rumor was that rolly drowned that day. I didn't care. I was free to daydream all day long!

I watched this a few months ago and I was in love. This is too funny.

Now there's a second one. Watch and enjoy. I laughed forever.

          If flowers could talk and the lame could walk, I think the world would consistently smile. We'd dance more and learn more and on no account focus exclusively upon ourselves.

          When I was smaller than I am now, I wished my dolls could speak. I wanted them to convey what they thought of me and to twirl around with me because worries are so silly. One day I woke up and comprehended that not all things can be so light, and I began to mimic my mother's fears. I did not yet know why I should be afraid, but I wanted to worry because that was the thing to do. I do not blame my mother or my father or my teachers or my peers; I just wanted to be like them, and to be liked by them, and for some reason I got it in my head that no one wants a child as a friend. So I tried to grow up, and when I tried to grow up I got caught in that odd mix of desiring after innocent things and craving the things I did not understand. After some time, though, I began to understand those things. It was bound to happen, but I really have spent a lot of my life since speculating how situations may have been different if I had just let myself figure stuff out on my own. Life gets fast and there's nothing we can do about it. 

          Anyway, I believe sometimes it is healthy to dream. Not to worry or lust or envy or even strive, but to just sit and think. I don't want to spend time thinking of how matters may have gone differently, but I want to be a child again some; hence, some afternoons I like to sit in my room and literally stare at my wall. I'll get a pen and my notebook and write about things you'd expect from an eight year old. My childhood was cut off early, but do not pity me. It is so in these times that most everyone's is, and we learn to learn and that is that. 

         
          I've always enjoyed thinking, and the older I've gotten probably the less I do it and the more I want to. I also want as I grow to make other people think, and it's sort of become a hobby and a cycle. 

          When I was about five years old, I truly believed with my whole heart that the world would be a better place if everything was a cartoon. People would not be, obviously (humorously), but my bed would be! The trees would have leaves you could use as fleece coverings, and my bed would be the brightest pink a person could ever experience! It's the bounciest bed of all, and my parents let me jump on it routinely before I lie down to rest at night. When I sleep I have dreams that come true, but only when I want them so. I can read minds and everyone enjoys me. We have many somethings syrupy throughout the day and I climb trees the size of mountains with skill and quickness. I run at speeds people can hardly comprehend, and I can be by myself whenever I want to be. But when I want a buddy, I don't even snap my fingers before he or she is planning fun for the two of us right next to me. I'm never wrong, I'm never disappointed, and some days I live in the ocean. All the boys in the world are handsome and witty but don't make me feel embarrassed at all. They're impressed when I beat them in sword fights or run faster than them, and the other girls are not jealous: they have their own boys who are less cute than the ones I surround myself with- and they're content. I don't get nervous that much and I'm allowed to dance all the time. I can also talk as much as I want when I want, but the world doesn't revolve around me. 

          Several of the reveries listed are things I no longer want. I have new dreams to replace them. My dreams are less selfish now, yet my actions are not. The way that time affects us is the strangest thing I've ever come into contact with. 

"O, My Luve's Like a Red, Red Rose,"

This song is beautiful- no other way to describe it, really. I figure I also should add some pictures (definitely NOT taken by me) of some people that I just thought were pretty, too. Enjoy the song as much as I did!

                             This is my aunt and uncle who were recently married!

                   An old friend-of-mine's brother and his wife on their wedding day.

Is this allowed? I humorously know these people as strangers. I stumbled upon the picture one day and loved it, so I share.  

Oh, I Just Like to Think

“I passed by the field of the sluggard and by the vineyard of the man lacking sense. And behold, it was completely overgrown with thistles; its surface was covered with nettles and its stone wall was broken down. When I saw, I reflected upon it; I looked, and I received instruction. ‘A little sleep, a little slumber. A little folding of the hands to rest,’ then your poverty will come as a robber and your want like an armed man.”

I read this today and thought it was good word to share. This is an old wise word, very true, and so timeless. I love that the man speaking says that when he saw what the lack of work by the lazy man had produced, he reflected upon it- it says he looked and he received instruction.

          Lately God has been speaking to me a lot concerning wisdom. My parents and my grandparents have told me for years that a great thing to read from each day is the book of proverbs listed in the Bible. The passage I pointed out above is one that I read this afternoon. Anyway, the man in the passage says that he learned from the reflection of another man’s calamity.  It is not that he saw the trouble this guy had brought upon himself and chuckled or said, “I am so glad I’m not so stupid. . .”

He later says that the sluggard (lazy man; just think of the “slug”) thought he’d rest and follow that with a get-back to work, but what the bum didn’t realize is that the moment he thought that, he set himself up for poverty, and he wasn’t going to be satisfied again (“your poverty will come as a robber and your want [will come] like an armed man.”). I love the way of writing the author uses! But beyond that, I love the message we see in this simple clip from the book. (These verses are in the 24^th chapter, starting at 30 and ended at 34.) The proverbs talk about “getting wisdom and understanding” constantly, and it’s a lesson we all need to “get” and be reminded of daily.

          I may as well add another thing that I read and enjoyed immensely while I’m rambling a bit. It’s found a few verses before the one I pointed out before, and it reads, “Prepare your work outside and make it ready for yourself in the field; afterwards, then, build your house.” I’m sure that this verse can be translated and interpreted in a couple different ways, but the general message is constant and may be applied to several circumstances. When I read this I thought of myself growing up. I thought of how excited I am to get done with high school and get done with college and follow my dreams. I thought of my futuristic husband and family, too. I am called by God to children, and I would love so much to marry one day and have a husband and children of my own. My husband will be the leader of our home, and he will lead me as well as my children. Though it will be our home, and though he will be the head, this verse reminds me of the importance of wisdom and maturity throughout my life; I mustn’t wait for a spouse or old age or more responsibilities and “greater” responsibilities to practice wisdom, maturity, and self-control.  While God prepares me and is my strength, I have to work with Him. I need to make sacrifices and discipline myself if I want Him to use me the way He intends. I am so excited to see what He does in my life and in the lives of those around me, and verses like these whisper in my heart and scream in my ears to pay attention. I would love to hear any thoughts you had while reading or after reading this! I would even love just to hear some of what God is doing in your life. I’ll listen if you’re open! Have a great evening!! 

This Is Crazy Stuff.

    Everyone should read this! Great warning and strong, poetic words for you. (I didn't write it!)

    My son, keep my words and treasure my commandments within you. Keep these commandments and live, and keep my teaching as the apple of your eye. Bind them on your fingers; write them on your heart. 
    Say to Wisdom, "You are my sister," and call Understanding your intimate friend, that they may keep you from the adulteress and from the foreigner who flatters with her words. 
    At the window of my house I looked out through my lattice, and I saw walking among the naive and discerned of the youths a young man lacking sense, passing through the street near her corner.
    He takes the way to her house in the twilight, in the evening, in the middle of the night and in the darkness. 
    And behold, a woman comes to meet him, dressed as a harlot and cunning of heart. She is boisterous and rebellious; her feet do not remain at home. She is now in the streets, in the squares, and lurks by ever corner. 
    So she seizes him and kisses him, and with a brazen face she says to him, "I was due to offer peace offerings and today I have paid my vows. Therefore I have come out to meet you, to seek your presence earnestly, and I have found you! I've spread my couch with coverings, with colored linens from Egypt; I've sprinkled my bed with myrrh, aloes, and cinnamon; Come, let us drink our fill of love until morning- let us delight ourselves with caresses, for my husband is not at home. He has gone on a long journey and taken a bag of money with him, and at the full moon he will come home." 
    She entices him with her many persuasions and with her flattering lips she seduces him. He suddenly follows her as an ox goes to the slaughter or as one in fetters to the discipline of a fool, until an arrow pierces through his liver. As a bird hastens to the snare, so he does not know that it will cost him his life. 
    Now therefore, my sons, listen to me! Pay attention to the words of my mouth. Do not let your heart turn aside to her ways, do not stray in her paths. For many are the victims she has cast down, and numerous are all her slain. Her house is the way to the grave, descending to the chambers of death. 
    Does Wisdom not call, and Understanding lift up her voice?