Did you know that April is National Poetry Month?
The fact is, poetry is pretty much in my DNA.
My Great Grandmother Good published her collection of poems sometime long before my time, and I’ve grown up with her beautifully flowing word pictures transporting me to another era.
As a child, my impression of my Aunt Janet was that she was able concoct a poem for every occasion. She published a children’s poem book, and we were amazed.
My mother is my favorite poetry enthusiast. She’s always digging something out of her stash to read to it anyone who will appreciate it.
Yes, poetry has been a constant in my life since I was born.
But the plot twist for both my mother and I, was the discovery (not too many years ago) that she’d married a poet.
I still laugh remembering Mother slumped over her coffee one morning. Me: how was your night? Mother: not very restful, apparently I’m married to Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. He kept waking me up to hear the next verse of the poem he was writing.
My dads poetry gene got discovered not too long ago and it’s been keeping us in stitches ever since.
Mostly he writes about current events in a humorous way.
He manages to keep his poetry in his head, spends miles on the road reciting them for busloads to enjoy for what they’re worth.
So in honor of National Poetry Month, here are the links to my dads poems on Facebook:
- We’ve got the original Claas chopping video
- And then there’s Claas Video Part 2
- There’s the New bus poem
- And The Preacher and Busdriver in Heaven poem
- The Covid Poem
But my recent favorite was when he stood up at our Wedding Celebration and pulled this one out of his hat ( Here) I was so shocked, I could’ve cried. What a treasure.
So anyhow, I don’t know how you’re celebrating, but it’s finally warmed up enough that I think we’ll take our favorite poet out for ice cream.
And wait with bated breath to see what the next event will be that merits a poem.
National Pet Day and my current favorite pic of this energetic package opener:
And lastly a legit Henry Wadsworth Longfellow masterpiece with 3 names changed. 💙💙💙
The Children’s Hour” (1863)
Between the dark and the daylight,
__When the night is beginning to lower,
Comes a pause in the day’s occupations,
__That is known as the Children’s Hour.
I hear in the chamber above me
__The patter of little feet,
The sound of a door that is opened,
__And voices soft and sweet.
From my study I see in the lamplight,
__Descending the broad hall stair,
Alexander , and laughing Uriah,
__And Isaiah with golden hair.
A whisper, and then a silence:
__Yet I know by their merry eyes
They are plotting and planning together
__To take me by surprise.
A sudden rush from the stairway,
__A sudden raid from the hall!
By three doors left unguarded
__They enter my castle wall!
They climb up into my turret
__O’er the arms and back of my chair;
If I try to escape, they surround me;
__They seem to be everywhere.
They almost devour me with kisses,
__Their arms about me entwine,
Till I think of the Bishop of Bingen
__In his Mouse-Tower on the Rhine!
Do you think, O blue-eyed banditti,
__Because you have scaled the wall,
Such an old mustache as I am
__Is not a match for you all!
I have you fast in my fortress,
__And will not let you depart,
But put you down into the dungeon
__In the round-tower of my heart.
And there will I keep you forever,
__Yes, forever and a day,
Till the walls shall crumble to ruin,
__And moulder in dust away!