More Myra Cohn Livingston Poems

Hello and Happy Poetry Friday! Be sure to visit Katie at The Logonauts for Roundup. While you're there, scroll back to Katie's amazing post for teaching elementary students about stereotypes. I can't wait to try this with students!

Here at Live Your Poem it's been an up-n-down week. I returned from glorious time with my mother and sister, and then skidded on a icy patch of grief for my father. As I was moving through that, I got the disappointing news that a project I'm attached to needs a MAJOR overhaul... and as I was moving through that, I found out a separate project isn't as dead as I thought it was (yay!)... also, I was invited to write a poem for a publication on an interesting and inspiring topic, so... good and not-so-good. Such is life!

Meanwhile I'm continuing my study of Myra Cohn Livingston. Read my post on her book of writing exercises I AM WRITING A POEM ABOUT... here. This week I am excited to share with you A SONG I SANG TO YOU: A Selection of Poems by Myra Cohn Livingston, Illustrated by Margot Tomes. It was published in 1984 by Harcourt Brace Jovanovich.

What strikes me is how simple these poems are. Very easy on the ears and tongue. Really nice rhythms. And lots of indentation! There is nothing particularly earth-shattering about these poems, no surprising analogies or images. But there is a sweetness to these lines, an innocence... they are like comfort food! I think Myra was very good at writing from that child-place inside her heart.

Here are some of my favorites from the book. Enjoy!

 For a Bird

I found him lying near the tree; I folded up his wings.
     Oh, little bird,
     You never heard
     The song the summer sings.

I wrapped him in a shirt I wore in winter; it was blue.
     Oh, little bird,
     You never heard
     The song I sang to you.


Prayer

Thank you for the sun,
          the sky,
     for all the things that like to fly,
          the shining rain that turns grass green,
          the earth we know --
          the world unseen--
     for stars and night, and once again
          the every-morning sun. Amen.


Tomato Time

On a summer vine, and low,
The fat tomatoes burst and grow;

A green, a pink, a yellow head
Will soon be warm and shiny red;

And on a morning, hot with sun,
I'll find and pick a ripened one.

Warm juice and seed beneath the skin --
I'll shut my eyes when I bite in.


I Don't Know Why

I don't know why
          the sky is blue
          or why the raindrops
          splatter through

          or why the grass
          is wet with dew. . .      do you?

I don't know why
          the sun is round
          or why a seed grows
          in the ground

          or why the thunder
          makes a sound. . .       do you?

I don't know why
          the clouds are white
          or why the moon
          shines very bright

          or why the air
          turns black at night. . . do you?