A collection of poems for reading together in pairs. Poems for two voices. You say: let me have your nose I would like to use it today.

Transcription

1 Paired Poetry A collection of poems for reading together in pairs. Poems for two voices. You say: let me have your nose I would like to use it today. And I say: but it s the only nose I ve got. You can t take my nose away. By Michael Rosen 1

2 Paired Poetry Paired and shared reading, either together with classmates or with teachers, parents and other adults, is great way to enhance and support children s emerging reading skills and it can also be great fun. Sharing books and poems with a sympathetic adult or friend is an important activity which helps children to gain independence as avid and enthusiastic readers. However, finding the right book, story or poem can be a challenge. The poems in this collection range from Nursery Rhymes and playground chants, which can be read with confidence by the very youngest readers, to more challenging poems (both in terms of language and subject matter) aimed at older readers. The Russian psychologist, Lev Vygotsky, promoted learning through collaboration and said: What a child can do in collaboration today; he or she will be able to do by him or herself tomorrow. If a child is reading something too easy, he or she might feel unchallenged. If a child is reading something far too difficult, he or she might lose heart. When the reading material is just right, the child is working within what Vygotsky calls: The zone of proximal development. In other words, the child is going to grow and learn and progress because what they are being asked to do is just enough of a challenge and just beyond what they might find easy but not too hard as to be discouraging and disheartening. All of us, adults and children, learn best when we are in that zone. In my very first primary school teaching job, I remember teaching a boy who struggled with reading. Quite by accident, when trying to find something to read that would be at the right level, we stumbled together in the school library on a collection of poems which contained the words of the Tom Paxton protest 2

3 song of the sixties: What did you learn in school today? We read it together as a dialogue. He enjoyed reading the easy part which involved being in role as my father asking his little boy what I had learned at school. The boy loved reading the poem and wanted to read it over and over again. Eventually he became familiar with the words of the more challenging part and we were able to swap roles. In spite of the child s reading difficulties, he was able to understand the complex and controversial political issues raised by the lyrics. Owing to the fact that this reading experience had been so enjoyable, rewarding and effective, I resolved to search poetry collections for other poems of this type. This collection is my response to the success of that experience as a teacher working with a child for whom reading was not a strength. Paired poems are written to be read aloud with a real purpose: to entertain and enjoy. They are conversations; often questions and answers. They are written for more than one voice as if two people were talking to each other. They are like a dramatic script for acting out. Some of these paired poems, like the very well-known Please Mrs. Butler by Allan Ahlberg, are clearly delineated and it is obvious which speaker, the child or the teacher, should recite each verse. Others are less obvious, such as Invisible Ink by Michael Rosen and therefore it becomes a reading comprehension exercise to work out who should speak which line. With some poems there is more than one possible interpretation and rendition. Some are written in modern English; easily accessible and understood by children of all ages. Poets like Allan Ahlberg and Michael Rosen have an ear for the natural language of children and the playground. Some are from much older traditions of literature. Looking at poems from times past and other 3

4 traditions can promote a discussion about language change over time and from different cultures. Some are easy to read even by readers who are at the early stages of acquiring fluency. This can be because the language and vocabulary are easy or because there is one part which is much easier to read than another, for example in Michael Rosen s Why? poem. Some will provide challenge for even the most able and more mature readers as the subject matter provokes debate or as the grammar and archaic vocabulary causes careful consideration of how best to read the poem out loud. Research has shown that children learn a great deal through collaborating and co-operating with others in a social setting. Reading, for example longer novels, is an exhilarating solo experience and all good readers love to spend time all by themselves lost in a book. But these are poems which help children and adults to create a shared experience. I hope you enjoy them as much as I have done over more than thirty years of experience as a teacher. Steve Austin. 4

5 PLEASE MRS BUTLER Please Mrs. Butler This boy Derek Drew Keeps copying my work, Miss What shall I do? Go and sit in the hall, dear. Go and sit in the sink. Take your books on the roof, my lamb. Do whatever you think. Please Mrs. Butler This boy Derek Drew Keeps taking my rubber, Miss, What shall I do? Keep it in your hand, dear. Hide it up your vest. Swallow it if you like, my love. Do what you think best. Please Mrs. Butler This boy Derek Drew Keeps calling me rude names, Miss What shall I do? Lock yourself in the cupboard, dear. Run away to sea. Do whatever you can, my flower, But don t ask me! By Allan Ahlberg 5

6 Little Boy Blue Little Boy Blue Come blow your horn The sheep s in the meadow The cow s in the corn But where is the boy Who looks after the sheep? Under the haycock Fast asleep Will you wake him? No, not I For if I do He s sure the cry (Traditional Nursery Rhyme) 6

7 AH! Say Ah, said the doctor. I don t want to be examined, said the patient, I ve come to pay my bill. Ah, said the doctor. Anon. Say AAGH! No fun being the dentist Not much fun as a job Spending all your days in gazing Right into everyone s gob. No fun seeing the dentist Not much fun at all Staring straight up his hairy nostrils Drives you up the wall By Kit Wright 7

8 WHY? I m just going out for a moment Why? To make a cup of tea Why? Because I m thirsty Why? Because it s hot Why? Because the sun s shining Why? Because it s summer Why? Because that s when it is Why? Why don t you stop saying why? Why? 8

9 Team time, that s why. High-time you stopped saying why time. What? By Michael Rosen THE SARDINE A baby sardine Saw a submarine And looked in Through the peep-hole. Oh come, come, come, Said the sardine s mum. It s only a tin Full of people. By Spike Milligan 9

10 THE TICKLE RHYME Who s that tickling my back? said the wall. Me, said a small Caterpillar. I m learning To crawl. By Ian Serrailier (author of The Silver Sword, who was, a long time ago, a former pupil at the school in Sussex where Mr. Austin was first a headteacher) SNAIL Snail upon the wall Have you got at all Anything to tell About your shell? Only this, my child When the wind is wild Or when the sun is hot It s all I ve got. By John Drinkwater 10

11 WHAT S YOUR NAME? What s you name? Johnny McCane Where do you live? Down the lane. What s your shop? Lollipop. What s your number? Cucumber. (a playground rhyme) 11

12 Are you the Guy Are you the guy That told the guy That I m the guy That gave the guy The black eye? No I m not the guy That told the guy That you re the guy That gave the guy The black eye. (Another playground rhyme collected by Michael Rosen in Inky Pinky Ponky. The next two are from The Oxford Book of Nursery Rhymes.) Granny s in the kitchen Granny s in the kitchen Doing a bit of stitching In came a bogeyman And chased granny out BOO! Well, said Granny That s not fair. Well, said the Bogeyman I don t care. Piggy on the Railroad Piggy on the railroad picking up stones Along came an engine and broke Piggy s bones. Oh, said Piggy. That s not fair. Oh, said the engine driver, I don t care. 12

13 My name is My name is sluggery-wuggery My name is worms for tea My name is swallow the table leg My name is drink the sea My name is I eat saucepans My name is I like snails My name is grand piano George My name is I ride whales My name is jump the chimney My name is bite my knee My name is jiggery pokery And riddle me ree And me. By Pauline Clarke 13

14 Roger was a Razor Fish Roger was a razor fish As sharp as he could be He said to Calvin Catfish I ll shave you for a fee. No thanks, said Calvin Catfish I like me like I be. And with his whiskers On his face He headed out to sea. By Al Pitman 14

15 Witch, Witch Witch, witch, where do you fly? Under the clouds and over the sky. Witch, witch, what do you eat? Little black apples from Hurricane Street. Witch, witch, what do you drink? Vinegar, blacking, and good read ink. Witch, witch, where do you sleep? Up in the clouds where pillows are cheap. By Rose Fyleman 15

16 I say: What are you doing? And our little boy Joe says: Mm? What do you think you are doing? Mm? Why did you do that? Mm? The peanut butter, all over your blanket. Mm? And the talcum powder. Mm? Don t do it. Do you understand? Mm? Or there ll be trouble. And Joe says: Trouble! And runs off laughing By Michael Rosen 16

17 You can t catch me, Grumble Belly. Don t want to. You couldn t if you wanted to, Grumble Belly. I wouldn t if I could. You re too slow, Grumble Pump. Oh am I? You can t catch me, Grumble Pump Pump. I m very, very, very slow but when I m quick I LL GET YOU I ve got you I ve got you And I ll never let you go. By Michael Rosen 17

18 If you don t put your shoes on before I count to fifteen then we won t go to the woods to climb the chestnut tree. One. But I can t find them. Two. I can t. They re under the sofa. Three. No Oh yes. Four. Five. Six. Stop! They ve got knots. You should untie the laces when you take your shoes off. Seven. Will you do one while I do the other then? Eight. But that would be cheating. Please. All right. It always Nine. It always sticks. I ll use my teeth. Ten. But it won t It has, look! 18

19 Eleven. I m not wearing any socks. Twelve. Stop counting! Stop counting! Mum, where are my socks mum? They re in your shoes. Where you left them. I didn t. Thirteen. Oh. They re inside out and upside down and bundled up. Fourteen. Have you done the knot on the shoes you were Yes. Put it on the right foot. But socks don t have a right and wrong foot. The shoes silly Fourteen and a half. I am! I am! Don t go to the woods without me. Look that s one shoe on already. Fourteen and three-quarters. There! You haven t tied the bows yet. 19

20 We could do them on the way there? No we won t. Fourteen and seven eighths. Help me then. You know I m not fast at bows. Fourteen and fifteen sixteenths. A single bow is all right, isn t it? Fifteen. We re off. See. I did it. Didn t I? By Michael Rosen (lots of Michael Rosen s poems are based on conversations with his own children) 20

21 Who Knows? I know something you don t know. No you don t. I know it. You don t know it. How could you know it? No one knows it. Only me. I just know it. Prove it, then. Tell me what I know. Tell yourself. Why should I tell you? You re the one who knows it. Yes, but you don t know it. You prove it. I can t prove it. How can I prove it? If I tell you what I know You ll say you know it already. I do know it already. Well, you prove it. No. I can t prove it. If I tell you what I know You ll change it to something else. No I won t. If you tell me What you know I know 21

22 I ll know if you know it. Yes, but I won t know. That s all right. Then I ll know something you don t know. By Allan Ahlberg 22

23 INVISIBLE INK Dad? Yeah. What can you use for invisible ink? Lemon juice. (He gets lemon juice, A matchstick, Piece of paper, He writes something). Dad? Yeah. I can t read it. By Michael Rosen BAD REPORT GOOD MANNERS My Daddy said, My son, my son, This school report is bad. I said, I did my best I did My Dad, My Dad, My Dad. Explain my son, my son, he said, Why bottom of the class? I stood aside, my Dad, my Dad, To let the others pass. By Spike Milligan 23

24 THE CHALLENGE My dad can fight your dad. You must be mad! My mum can fight your mum. No chance, chum. My brother can fight your brother. Pull the other! My gran can fight your gran. You re joking, man! My cat can fight your cat. Don t bet on that. And I can fight you. Toodle-oo! By Allan Ahlberg 24

25 BRUSSELS SPROUTS (child) What s that green thing? (parent) Brussels sprouts. (child) I don t want no Brussels sprouts. (parent) Any. Come on, try some Brussels sprouts. (child) I don t want no Brussels sprouts! (parent) Any. These are special Brussels sprouts. (child) I don t want no Brussels sprouts! (parent) Any. Just one taste of Brussels sprouts. (child) If I taste these Brussels sprouts, then can I have something else? (parent) Sure! (child) Ugh! I hate these Brussels sprouts! 25

26 (parent) Here s some yummy cottage cheese, pickled beets, cauliflower, lima beans, and chicken liver. (child) Please pass the Brussels sprouts. I don t want no chicken liver. (parent) Any. By Tim Rasinski, David Harrison and Gay Fawcett 26

27 Good Questions. Bad Answers. Where s the rattle I shook When I was 1? Vanished. Where s the teddy I hugged When I was 2? Lost. Where s the sandbox I played in When I was 3? Broken up. Where s the beach ball I kicked When I was 4? Burst. Where s the fort I built When I was 5? Destroyed. Where s the box of comics I collected When I was 6? Missing. Where s the electric train set I loved When I was 7? Given away. 27

28 Where s the holiday scrap book I made When I was 8? Disappeared. Where s the tin of marbles I had When I was 9? Swapped. Where s the bicycle I rode When I was 10? Sold. What? Gone? Everything? Yes, all gone, All gone By Wes Magee (a poet but also a primary school headteacher) 28

29 THE LADY AND THE SWINE There was a lady loved a swine, Honey, quoth she, Pig-hog wilt thou be mine? Hoogh, quoth he. I ll build thee a silver sty, Honey, quoth she, And in it thou shalt lie. Hoogh, quoth he. Pinned with a silver pin, Honey, quoth she, That thou may go out and in. Hoogh, quoth he. Wilt thou have me now, Honey, quoth she, Speak or my heart will break. Hoogh, quoth he. Traditional. (The Hoogh is just meant to be the sound of the pig snorting or grunting. Looking at poems from long ago can help us to understand how language has changed over time.) 29

30 LORD RANDALL (The Ballad of Lord Randall is over three hundred years old and exists in several versions. First here is a Scottish dialect version collected by Sir Walter Scott in This gives us a chance to consider what is meant by dialect.) O where hae ye been, Laird Randall, my son? O where hae ye been, my handsome young man? I hae been to the wild wood; mother, make my bed soon, For I m weary wi hunting, and fain wald lie down. Where gat ye your dinner, Laird Randall, my son? Where gat ye you dinner, my handsome young man? I din d wi my true love; mother, make my bed soon, For I m weary wi hunting and fain wald lie down. What gat ye to your dinner, Laird Randall, my son. What gat ye to your dinner, my handsome young man? I gat eels boiled in broo; mother, make my bed soon, For I m weary with hunting, and fain wald lie down. And wha gat your leavings, Laird Randall, my son? And wha gat your leavings, my handsome young man? I gie em to the dogs; mother, make my bed soon, For I m weary with hunting and fain wald lie down. What became of your bloodhounds, Laird Randall, my son? What became of your bloodhounds, my handsome young man? O they swelled and they died; mother, make my bed soon, For I m weary with hunting and fain wald lie down. 30

31 O I fear ye are poisoned, Laird Randall, my son. O I fear ye are poisoned, my handsome young son. O yes! I am poisoned; mother make my bed soon, For I m sick at the heart, and fain wald lie down. 31

32 Lord Randal (This is an American version collected in Missouri in Looking at these different versions can help us to understand how spellings have changed over time, even though the essential story remains the same) Oh where have you been, Lord Randal, my son? Oh where have you been, my handsome young man? I ve been to the wild wood; mother make my bed soon, I m weary with hunting, and fain would lie down. And whom did you meet there, Lord Randal, my son? And whom did you meet there, my handsome young man? I met with my true love; mother, make my bed soon. I m weary with hunting, and fain would lie down. What got you for supper, Lord Randal, my son? What got you for supper, my handsome young man? I got eels boiled in broth; mother, make my bed soon, For I m weary with hunting and fain would lie down. And who got your leavings, Lord Randal, my son? And who got your leavings, my handsome young man? I gave them to my dogs; mother, make my bed soon, For I m weary with hunting, and fain would lie down. And what did your dogs do, Lord Randal, my son? And what did your dogs do, my handsome young man? They stretched out and died; mother, make my bed soon, For I m weary with hunting, and fain would lie down. 32

33 Oh I fear you are poisoned, Lord Randal, my son. Oh I fear you are poisoned, my handsome young man. Oh yes, I am poisoned; mother, make my bed soon, For I m weary with hunting, and fain would lie down. (The American version continues with more verses) What will you leave your mother, Lord Randal my son etc? My house and my lands; mother, make my bed soon etc. What will you leave your sister My gold and my silver What will you leave your brother My horse and my saddle What will you leave your true love A halter to hang her 33

34 Green and Yellow (Another version of the Lord Randal tale, this time in modern non-standard English. This is based on the Cockney accent and dialect of London and gives us a chance to consider what is meant by Standard and non-standard English) Where have you been all the day, My boy Willie? Where have you been, My own lovely son? In the woods, dear mother, In the woods, dear mother, Oh mother be quick I wanna be sick And lay me down to die! What did you do in them woods, My boy Willie? What did you do in them woods, My own lovely one? I ate, dear mother, I ate, dear mother, Oh mother be quick, I wanna be sick, And lay me down to die! What did you eat in them woods, My boy Willie? What did you eat in them woods, My own dearest one? 34

35 Eels, dear mother, Eels, dear mother, Oh mother be quick, I wanna be sick, And lay me down to die! What colour was them eels, My boy Willie? What colour was them eels, My own current bun? Green and yeller, Green and yeller, Oh mother be quick, I wanna be sick, And lay me down to die! Them wasn t eels them was snakes my son, My boy Willie. Them wasn t eels them was snakes my son, My own lovely one. Yeuch! Dear mother, Yeuch! Dear Mother. Oh mother be quick, I wanna be sick and lay me down to die! What colour flowers would you like on your grave, My boy Willie? What colour flowers would you like on your grave, My own dearest son? 35

36 Green and yeller, Green and yeller, Oh Mother be quick, I wanna be sick, And lay me down to d i e! 36

37 HARD RAIN S A-GONNA FALL (Bob Dylan used a similar structure of questions and answers for his 1960s folk song) Oh, where have you been, my blue-eyed son? And where have you been my darling young one? I've stumbled on the side of twelve misty mountains I've walked and I've crawled on six crooked highways I've stepped in the middle of seven sad forests I've been out in front of a dozen dead oceans I've been ten thousand miles in the mouth of a graveyard And it's a hard, it's a hard, it's a hard, and it's a hard It's a hard rain's a-gonna fall. Oh, what did you see, my blue eyed son? And what did you see, my darling young one? I saw a newborn baby with wild wolves all around it I saw a highway of diamonds with nobody on it I saw a black branch with blood that kept drippin' I saw a room full of men with their hammers a-bleedin' I saw a white ladder all covered with water I saw ten thousand takers whose tongues were all broken I saw guns and sharp swords in the hands of young children And it's a hard, it's a hard, it's a hard, and it's a hard It's a hard rain's a-gonna fall. And what did you hear, my blue-eyed son? And what did you hear, my darling young one? I heard the sound of a thunder, it roared out a warnin' I heard the roar of a wave that could drown the whole world I heard one hundred drummers whose hands were a-blazin' I heard ten thousand whisperin' and nobody listenin' I heard one person starve, I heard many people laughin' 37

38 Heard the song of a poet who died in the gutter Heard the sound of a clown who cried in the alley And it's a hard, it's a hard, it's a hard, it's a hard And it's a hard rain's a-gonna fall. Oh, who did you meet my blue-eyed son? Who did you meet, my darling young one? I met a young child beside a dead pony I met a white man who walked a black dog I met a young woman whose body was burning I met a young girl, she gave me a rainbow I met one man who was wounded in love I met another man who was wounded and hatred And it's a hard, it's a hard, it's a hard, it's a hard And it's a hard rain's a-gonna fall. And what'll you do now, my blue-eyed son? And what'll you do now my darling young one? I'm a-goin' back out 'fore the rain starts a-fallin' I'll walk to the depths of the deepest black forest Where the people are a many and their hands are all empty Where the pellets of poison are flooding their waters Where the home in the valley meets the damp dirty prison Where the executioner's face is always well hidden Where hunger is ugly, where souls are forgotten Where black is the colour, where none is the number And I'll tell and think it and speak it and breathe it And reflect it from the mountain so all souls can see it Then I'll stand on the ocean until I start sinkin' But I'll know my songs well before I start singin' And it's a hard, it's a hard, it's a hard, and it's a hard It's a hard rain's a-gonna fall. 38

39 WHO IS DE GIRL? (John Agard is a poet living in England who often writes in the West Indian dialect of his Caribbean heritage. This also gives us a chance to consider non-standard English) Who is de girl dat kick de ball Then jump for it over de wall? Sallyann is a girl so full-o zest. Sallyann is a girl dat just can t rest. Who is de girl dat pull de hair Of de bully and make him scare? Sallyann is a girl so full-o zest. Sallyann is a girl dat just can t rest. Who is de girl dat bruise she knee When she fall from de mango tree? Sallyann is a girl so full-o zest. Sallyann is a girl dat just can t rest. Who is de girl dat sets de pace When boys and girls dem start to race? Sallyann is a girl so full-o zest. Sallyann is a girl dat just can t rest. By John Agard. 39

40 WHAT THE WIND SAID Far away is where I ve come from, said the wind. Guess what I ve brought you. What? I asked. Shadows dancing on a brown road by and old stone fence, the wind said. Do you like that? Yes, I said, What else? Daisies nodding, and the drone of one small airplane in a sleepy sky, the wind continued. I like the airplane and the daisies too, I said. What else? That s not enough? the wind complained. No, I said, I want the song you were singing. Give me that. That s mine, the wind said. Find your own. And left. By Russell Hoban 40

41 Mummy, Oh Mummy Mummy, Oh Mummy, what s this pollution That everyone s talking about? Pollution s the mess that the country is in, That we d all be far better without. It s factories belching their fumes in the air, And the beaches all covered with tar, Now throw all those sweet papers into the bushes Before we get back into the car. Mummy, Oh Mummy, who makes this pollution, and why don t they stop if it s bad? Cos people like that just don t think about others, they don t think at all, I might add. They spray all the crops and they poison the flowers, And wipe out the birds and the bees, Now there s a good place we could dump that old mattress Right out of sight in the trees. Mummy, Oh Mummy, what s going to happen If all the pollution goes on? Well the world will end up like a second-hand junkyard, With all of its treasures quite gone. The fields will be littered with plastics and tins, The streams will be covered with foam, Now throw those two pop bottles over the hedge, Save us from carting them home. But Mummy, Oh Mummy, if I throw the bottles, Won t that be polluting the wood? Nonsense! That isn t the same thing at all, You just shut up and be good. If you re going to start getting silly ideas I m taking you home right away, Cos pollution is something that other folk do, We re just enjoying our day. (Anon) 41

42 WHAT DID YOU LEARN IN SCHOOL TODAY? What did you learn in school today, Dear little boy of mine? What did you learn in school today, Dear little boy of mine? I learned that Washington never told a lie I learned that soldiers seldom die I learned that everybody's free And that s what the teacher said to me And that s what I learned in school today, that s what I learned in school. What did you learn in school today, Dear little boy of mine? What did you learn in school today, Dear little boy of mine? I learned the policemen are my friends I learned that justice never ends I learned that murderers pay for their crimes, Even if we make a mistake sometimes And that s what I learned in school today, That s what I learned in school What did you learn in school today, Dear little boy of mine? What did you learn in school today, Dear little boy of mine? I learned that war is not so bad I learned about the great ones we once had We fought in Germany and in France And some day I might get my chance. And that s what I learned in school today, That s what I learned in school 42

43 What did you learn in school today, Dear little boy of mine? What did you learn in school today, Dear little boy of mine? I learned our government must be strong It's always right and never wrong! Our leaders are the finest men And we elect them again and again And that s what I learned in school today, That s what I learned in school By Tom Paxton 43

44 You are old, father William... "You are old, father William," the young man said, "And your hair has become very white; And yet you incessantly stand on your head Do you think, at your age, it is right? "In my youth," father William replied to his son, "I feared it might injure the brain; But, now that I'm perfectly sure I have none, Why, I do it again and again." "You are old," said the youth, "as I mentioned before, And you have grown most uncommonly fat; Yet you turned a back-somersault in at the door Pray what is the reason for that?" "In my youth," said the sage, as he shook his grey locks, "I kept all my limbs very supple By the use of this ointment one shilling a box Allow me to sell you a couple?" "You are old," said the youth, "and your jaws are too weak For anything tougher than suet; Yet you finished the goose, with the bones and the beak Pray, how did you manage to do it?" "In my youth," said his father, "I took to the law, And argued each case with my wife; And the muscular strength, which it gave to my jaw, Has lasted the rest of my life." "You are old," said the youth, "one would hardly suppose That your eye was as steady as ever; Yet you balanced an eel on the end of your nose What made you so awfully clever?" 44

45 "I have answered three questions, and that is enough," Said his father. "Don't give yourself airs! Do you think I can listen all day to such stuff? Be off, or I'll kick you down stairs. By Lewis Carroll 45

46 THE BALLAD OF RED FOX Yellow sun yellow, Sun yellow sun, When, oh, when Will red fox run? When the hollow horn shall sound, When the hunter lifts his gun And liberates the wicked hound, Then, oh, then shall red fox run. Yellow sun yellow, Sun yellow sun, Where, oh, where, Will red fox run? Through meadows hot as sulphur, Through forests cool as clay, Through hedges crisp as morning, And grasses limp as day. Yellow sky yellow, Sky yellow sky, How, oh, how Will red fox die? With a bullet in his belly, A dagger in his eye, And blood upon his red red brush Shall red fox die. By Melvin Walker La Follette 46

47 Mary and Sarah Mary likes smooth things, Things that glide: Sleek skis swishing Down a mountainside. Sarah likes rough things, Things that snatch: Boats with barnacled bottoms, Thatch. Mary like smooth things, Things all mellow: Milk, silk, runny honey, Tunes on a cello. Sarah likes rough things, Things all troubly: Crags, snags, bristles, thistles, Fields left stubbly. Mary says polish. Sarah says rust. Mary says mayonnaise Sarah says crust. Sarah says hedgehogs. Mary says seals. Sarah says sticklebacks. Mary says eels. Give me, says Mary, The slide of a stream, The touch of a petal, A bowl of ice-cream. 47

48 Give me, says Sarah, The gales of a coast, The husk of a chestnut, A plate of burnt toast. Mary and Sarah They ll never agree Till peaches and coconuts Grow on one tree. By Richard Edwards 48

49 Overheard on a saltmarsh Nymph, nymph, what are your beads? Green glass, Goblin. Why do you stare at them? Give them me. No. Give them me. Give them me. No. Then I will howl all night in the reeds; Lie in the mud and howl for them. Goblin, why do you love them so? They are better than stars or water; Better than voices of winds that sing; Better than any man s fair daughter; Your green glass beads on a silver ring. Hush, I stole them out of the moon. Give me your beads. I want them. No. I will howl in a deep lagoon For your green glass beads, I love them so. Give them me. Give them me. No. By Harold Munro 49

50 HOW FAR IS IT TO BETHLEHEM? How far is it to Bethlehem? Not very far. Shall we find the stable room Lit by a star? Can we see the little Child? Is He within? If we lift the wooden latch May we go in? May we stroke the creatures there Ox, ass, or sheep? May we peep like them and see Jesus asleep? If we touch His tiny hand Will He awake? Will He know we've come so far Just for His sake? Great kings have precious gifts And we have naught Little smiles and little tears Are all we brought. For all weary children Mary must weep Here, on His bed of straw Sleep, children, sleep. 50

51 God in His mother's arms Babes in the byre Sleep, as they sleep who find Their heart's desire. (Traditional Christmas song) 51

52 Up hill Does the road wind uphill all the way? Yes, to the very end. Will the day s journey take the whole long day? From morn to night, my friend. But is there, for the night, a resting place? A roof for when the slow dark hours begin. May not the darkness hide it from my face? You cannot miss that inn. Shall I meet other wayfarers at night? Those who have gone before. Then must I knock, or call when just in sight? They will not keep you standing at that door. Shall I find comfort, travel-sore and weak? Of labour you shall find the sum. Will there be beds for me and all who seek? Yea, beds for all who come. A spiritual reflection by Christina Rossetti 52

53 Extensions Don t just read them. Act them. Dramatise them. Dance them. Sing them. Accompany them. Photograph them. Make a recording of them. Film them. Illustrate them. Collect them, find others and add to this collection. And above all write them. Roland Barthes once said that: The aim of all literature is to make people into producers rather than consumers of text. So write your own paired poem or a poem for two or more voices. A note about copyright: a copy of this text has been sent to The Copyright Licensing Agency and they confirmed that as long as this booklet is not sold for any profit and used solely for school and educational purposes, it does not breach copyright legislation. 53