Poetry

The Fat Cat and other Poems

Some fun and interesting poems found scribbled in a child’s notebook… The Fat Cat There was a fat catwho found a hat right inthe middle of the street.He picked it up witha good enough pluck to pickup an overweight horse! That horse neighed untilhe was bade to dancewith an Irish jade And that fat cat […]

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Children

My daughter read Longfellow this past week, which she hadn’t been too enthused about because the poems are longer and of a more serious tone than those of A.A. Milne, Christina Rosetti, James Whitcomb Riley, Eugene Field and others from previous years. Precisely why they are very much up my alley – I particularly loved

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Pittypat and Tippytoe

Kristine framed this poem for me for my baby shower last night.It was one of our favorite poems from YR2, one of those things that just warms a Mother’s heart. Enjoy! Pittypat and Tippytoeby Eugene Field All day long they come and goPittypat and Tippytoe;Footprints up and down the hall,Playthings scattered on the floor,Finger-marks along

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Early March

Even though it’s still February, Early March is here in California. I thought it was just me, but a friend confirmed it when she was talking to me about the flowers at the Niguel Botanical Preserve, the birds singing, the caterpillars crawling… it reminded me of one of my favorite blog posts about the awakening

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Caddie’s Recitation

We read the first few lines of Caddie’s Recitation tonight at bedtime… A traveller through a dusty road strewed acorns on the lea;And one took root and sprouted up, and grew into a tree. I had to learn the rest, so I looked it up and found this poem that I just loved: Small Beginningsby

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Over in the Meadow

This past week we had a long drive home from the Tar Pits in LA so I decided to listen to an audio I’d downloaded to my ipod called “Making the Heart Sing With Recitation” by Bonnie Buckingham. She had a lot of good things to say on there. My 8yo daughter was the only

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It Pleases Thee

I read today a brief snippet about a woman named Madame Guyon, who was persecuted for her faith and imprisoned in a dungeon lit only by a candle at mealtimes. My ‘struggles’ faded by the wayside and my heart was gripped by her obedient words in this poem she wrote of her experience: A little

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