Elizabeth's Poetry

Classes at Elizabeth's school have an artist-in-residence, which means a working artist who came in and taught them every day for a week. In kindergarten, it was Charlie MacGuire, a folksinger who wrote a lot of songs with Woody Guthrie. Each class wrote and performed a unique song with his help (Elizabeth's class wrote about what they were studying: the value of each coin!).

In first grade, Elizabeth's artist-in-resident was the poet John Minczeski. That was extra-special because Elizabeth and I had attended a poetry workshop that he taught through the public library a few months earlier! He helped each child write tons of poems, which is right up Elizabeth's alley.

A few months later, we got a letter in the mail saying Mr. Minczeski had chosen one of Elizabeth's poems to be published in an anthology. In December, we attended a reception at the Landmark Center and Elizabeth got to read her poem aloud.

The best part was that Mr. Minczeski and Charlie MacGuire (and lots of other artists-in-residence) were there to hear it! Here is Elizabeth with Mr. Minzieski. He was extremely encouraging to her, in addition to teaching her a lot. I have a feeling she'll always remember him, especially if she continues writing as she does now.

After all the children had read, Elizabeth got to accept an award onstage. She looked awfully little up there.

We were very proud of her, and enjoyed the entire experience. Elizabeth loves the opportunity to speak in public. Here is her published poem, "Instructions for a Mouse."

Be sneaky.
Creep so quietly no one can hear you.
Be like a harp seal
Sliding gracefully across the ice.
Even though it is rough,
Make it look smooth as a ceiling,
As a skateboard.
Be the stealer of the cheese,
The robber of the cracker.
Look out the window,
As big as a room to you.
Taste the cheese with a sour face.
Smell the lonely, dark page of midnight.
Ask the sun to turn to a fresh, bright page.
Scamper hurriedly into your mousehole,
Eager to spend the day
With a ticket of laughter.

My favorite of her poems, though, is "The King's Arrival."

The grass bows, the wheat bends
As the King comes riding swiftly through the field.
His name is...
The wind.

And one more, just so we include one with rhymes: "Meadow Monarch."

His wings as bright as fair Moonlight,
His veins as dark as dirt.
And if some danger was ahead,
His eyes would shine, "Alert!"