Scenes from an Open House

Happy Poetry Friday and greetings from Gettysburg! This week, I'm attending the Gettysburg Review Conference for Writers, meeting great poets and studying with the wonderful Sidney Wade. (Check out her poem "Late.")

This week, my Northfield Poets celebrated their authorly accomplishments with an open house. Parents, grandparents, family and friends came to school to check out the great work.

Here are some photos from the event, along with a few more of the Northfield third graders' portrait poems.

Portrait poems on display in Ms. Hilliard's room.

Find the poem "The Adventurer" at this post.

Reading poems in Ms. Tavenner's room.

Poems on display in Ms. Pruitt's room.

Remember my last post, when we were talking about the way writing a portrait poem teaches compassion and empathy? I love how Gracie stepped out of her third grade experience to write this cosmopolitan, emotional poem.

Gracie F.

The Note to My Husband

With my hand on my chin, I think about my husband far, far away in California while I’m in Paris. I write to him, eat my lunch. I reach for my purse when I write to him how much I miss him. The waiter rushes past me to make a meal for a man in a top hat. I finish my note to my husband in California and I’m in Paris, France. Oh, how I miss him.

Although she wrote in response to the same work of art, the woman is Ellie's poem has a more active character. I wonder what the speaker is going to write about.

Ellie M.

Can’t Think of Anything

I’m sitting at a booth at the diner

On the corner of Mulberry Street.

I’ve had some wine, a whole glass in fact,

And still can’t think of anything.

My blonde hair in a bun, also

My black dress and lace cuffs.

Have to get the poem done

Before the ball.

A light bulb has gone off in my brain.

I think I’ll go pay the bill

And go home, but oh,

I just thought of something to write.

Phillip wrote in response to a Shonto Begay illustration that we've seen before. (The werewolf poems were among the most popular at our open  house.)

Phillip W.

Mysteries at Night

Night holds many mysteries

I am turning into a werewolf

It is midnight

I am not happy about it

I am changing fast

I was forced to be a werewolf

I will look for a meal

I will join a pack

I will howl at the moon

I will find a home

I will miss being a human

Now darkness is my friend

I sleep during the day

I have to go

I think the pack sees me.

And here is how my day ended, with gorgeous pink roses to add to the peonies from my garden. The smaller flowers are called Coral Bells.

Thanks for another great year of poetry, Northfield ES!

Today's Poetry Friday host is my dear friend Tabatha at The Opposite of Indifference. Have fun recharging your poetry batteries with some great offerings today.