That Granny Torrelli. Me, I always want to do things for Bailey because he can’t see, things I think are too hard for him, like cracking the eggs. But Granny Torrelli is showing me that Bailey doesn’t need so much help, that I should quit being such a take-charge Rosie.
Although I grew up copying out Emily Dickinson poems for penmanship practice and giggling over Shel Silverstein’s Where the Sidewalk Ends, I’ve always been intimidated by this particular form of literature. It wasn’t until I began reading Novels in Verse last year that I felt poetry might be worth approaching.
I’ll admit, it’s still confusing and new, but I’m paying more attention now. Poetry isn’t just a sentence with a lot of negative space anymore. I’m even trying my hand at writing a few. So, in honor of National Poetry Month, here are a few short poems that I thought would appeal to fellow newbies.
Jack doesn’t want to write poetry. Poetry is for girls. Poetry doesn’t make any sense. But as Miss Stretchberry introduces the class to new poems, Jack begins to see how simple ideas jotted down on a piece of paper can become something beautiful.
The Martins take refuge in a lighthouse off the East coast after Amelia’s father is stripped of his title and career. Tension between her parents, whose political views differ to the extreme, put a heavy strain on Amelia as she works to keep the lighthouse running and her family together.
It’s my belief that there’s a book out there for everyone. Whatever you’re interested in, want to know more about, or need to hear, someone’s probably written a book for it. I’ve also come to realize that there’s a book out there for every mood. Books for when you’re brave. Books for when you’re hurt. Books for when you need a laugh.
Today, I wanted to talk about comfort reads. Books that have the magical ability to whisk us away to a happier place, lift our moods on a crummy day, and read like they were written just for us.
Responsible dairy maid, Begonia, sets out to retrieve a runaway cow. The fussy to-be-emperor disappears without a trace from his bedchamber. But these two disconnected events might not be as unrelated as they seem. Guided by unexpected friendships, flighty pets, magical gifts, and the hand of the ancestors, a simple chore becomes the twisting adventure of a lifetime.
It was the kind of fresh, sparkly morning that might make a young girl forget the milk oozing over her scalp and the ache in her bottom.
They were always saying encouraging stuff to her one-on-one. But whenever her mom or dad talked to her directly, it felt sort of like a coach giving a pep talk. To a losing team.