Saturday, December 5, 2015

Child's Play

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The Best Game the Fairies Play
BY rose fyleman

 The best game the fairies play,
    The best game of all,
Is sliding down steeples—
    (You know they’re very tall).
You fly to the weathercock,
    And when you hear it crow,
You fold your wings and clutch your things
    And then let go!
They have a million other games—
    Cloud-catching’s one,
And mud-mixing after rain
    Is heaps and heaps of fun;
But when you go and stay with them
    Never mind the rest,
Take my advice—they’re very nice,
    But steeple-sliding’s best!

REFLECTIVE MUSIC: Fairy Dance by James Newton Howard




Snow Day
BY billy collins
Today we woke up to a revolution of snow,   
its white flag waving over everything,
the landscape vanished,
not a single mouse to punctuate the blankness,   
and beyond these windows

the government buildings smothered,
schools and libraries buried, the post office lost   
under the noiseless drift,
the paths of trains softly blocked,
the world fallen under this falling.

In a while, I will put on some boots
and step out like someone walking in water,   
and the dog will porpoise through the drifts,   
and I will shake a laden branch
sending a cold shower down on us both.

But for now I am a willing prisoner in this house,   
a sympathizer with the anarchic cause of snow.   
I will make a pot of tea
and listen to the plastic radio on the counter,   
as glad as anyone to hear the news

that the Kiddie Corner School is closed,   
the Ding-Dong School, closed.
the All Aboard Children’s School, closed,   
the Hi-Ho Nursery School, closed,
along with—some will be delighted to hear—

the Toadstool School, the Little School,
Little Sparrows Nursery School,
Little Stars Pre-School, Peas-and-Carrots Day School   
the Tom Thumb Child Center, all closed,
and—clap your hands—the Peanuts Play School.

So this is where the children hide all day,
These are the nests where they letter and draw,   
where they put on their bright miniature jackets,   
all darting and climbing and sliding,
all but the few girls whispering by the fence.

And now I am listening hard
in the grandiose silence of the snow,
trying to hear what those three girls are plotting,   
what riot is afoot,
which small queen is about to be brought down.

REFLECTIVE MUSIC: The Snow is Dancing by Claude Debussy





The Monsters in My Closet
BY phil bolsta
The monsters in my closet
Like to sleep the day away.
So when I get home from school,
I let them out to play.

When Mom calls me for supper,
I give them each a broom.
First they put my toys away,
And then they clean my room.

The Mummy hates to vacuum.
So if he starts to whine,
I kick his rear and tell him,
“Trade jobs with Frankenstein.”

Wolfman used to fold my clothes.
I’ll give him one more chance—
Last time he wasn’t careful
And left furballs in my pants.

When my room is nice and neat,
I bring them up some food.
But Dracula wants to drink my blood—
I think that’s pretty rude.

When it’s time to go to bed,
I hug them all goodnight.
They jump back in my closet,
While I turn out the light.

I’ve taken care of monsters
For as long as I recall,
But the monsters in my closet
Are the nicest ones of all!

REFLECTIVE MUSIC: Danse Macabre by Camille Saint-Saens





The Swing
BY robert louis stevenson
How do you like to go up in a swing,
   Up in the air so blue?
Oh, I do think it the pleasantest thing
   Ever a child can do!

Up in the air and over the wall,
   Till I can see so wide,
Rivers and trees and cattle and all
   Over the countryside—

Till I look down on the garden green,
   Down on the roof so brown—
Up in the air I go flying again,
   Up in the air and down!

REFLECTIVE MUSIC: The Swing by Georges Bizet





Legacies
BY nikki giovanni
her grandmother called her from the playground   
       “yes, ma’am”
       “i want chu to learn how to make rolls” said the old   
woman proudly
but the little girl didn’t want
to learn how because she knew
even if she couldn’t say it that
that would mean when the old one died she would be less   
dependent on her spirit so
she said
       “i don’t want to know how to make no rolls”
with her lips poked out
and the old woman wiped her hands on
her apron saying “lord
       these children”
and neither of them ever
said what they meant
and i guess nobody ever does

REFLECTIVE MUSIC: Teach Your Children, by Graham Nash






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