I made myself a snow ball as perfect as could be I thought I'd keep it as a pet and let it sleep with me I made it some pajamas and a pillow for its head Then, last night it ran away.
~~I loved reading Shel Silverstein as a child and found that his poetry worked wonders when I was looking for subjects to get my oldest son interested in reading. I hope everyone enjoys!~~Becky Speer
A Calendar of Sonnets: January by Helen Hunt Jackson
O Winter! frozen pulse and heart of fire, What loss is theirs who from thy kingdom turn Dismayed, and think thy snow a sculptured urn Of death! Far sooner in midsummer tire The streams than under ice. June could not hire Her roses to forego the strength they learn In sleeping on thy breast. No fires can burn The bridges thou dost lay where men desire In vain to build. O Heart, when Love's sun goes To northward, and the sounds of singing cease, Keep warm by inner fires, and rest in peace. Sleep on content, as sleeps the patient rose. Walk boldly on the white untrodden snows, The winter is the winter's own release.
Overnight, a giant spilt icing sugar on the ground, He spilt it in the hedgerows, and the trees without a sound, He made a wedding-cake of the haystack in the field, He dredged the countryside and the grass was all concealed, He sprinkled sugar on the roof, in patches not too neat, And in the morning when we woke, the world around was sweet
Icy fingers, icy toes, Bright red cheeks and bright red nose. Watch the snowflakes as they fall, Try so hard to count them all. Build a snowman way up high, See if he can touch the sky. Snow forts, snowballs, angels, too, In the snow, so white and new. Slip and slide and skate so fast. Wintertime is here at last.
I thought actions could be added easily to this poem as well. Here are the ideas I had for each line: The first line shiver, then point to cheeks and nose, next raise hands and make them fall to the floor, then point finger across front of body pretending to count, raise hands up high, stand on tippy toes to touch the sky, move jumping jack position like a snow angel, brighten eyes while reciting white and new, pretend to skate by sliding feet side to side, and last smile because Winter Time is here and it is fun.
Little Snowman (to the tune of Little Teapot) author unknown
I'm a little snowman round and fat. Here are my mittens, Here is my hat. Add a little scarf and a carrot nose. I'll stand so tall when the cold wind blows.
January Now is here-- A fine new start For a whole new start The snow comes down In the dark of night. When we awake The world is white. In January When there's snow We get our sleds And away we go. (author unknown)
"Little January Tapped at my door today. And said, "Put on your winter wraps, And come outdoors to play." Little January Is always full of fun; Until the set of sun. Little January Will stay a month with me And we will have such jolly times - Just come along and see." - Winifred C. Marshall, January
Ode Written On The First Of January by Robert Southey Come melancholy Moralizer--come! Gather with me the dark and wintry wreath; With me engarland now The SEPULCHRE OF TIME!
Come Moralizer to the funeral song! I pour the dirge of the Departed Days, For well the funeral song Befits this solemn hour.
But hark! even now the merry bells ring round With clamorous joy to welcome in this day, This consecrated day, To Mirth and Indolence.
Mortal! whilst Fortune with benignant hand Fills to the brim thy cup of happiness, Whilst her unclouded sun Illumes thy summer day,
Canst thou rejoice--rejoice that Time flies fast? That Night shall shadow soon thy summer sun? That swift the stream of Years Rolls to Eternity?
If thou hast wealth to gratify each wish, If Power be thine, remember what thou art-- Remember thou art Man, And Death thine heritage!
Hast thou known Love? does Beauty's better sun Cheer thy fond heart with no capricious smile, Her eye all eloquence, Her voice all harmony?
Oh state of happiness! hark how the gale Moans deep and hollow o'er the leafless grove! Winter is dark and cold-- Where now the charms of Spring?
Sayst thou that Fancy paints the future scene In hues too sombrous? that the dark-stol'd Maid With stern and frowning front Appals the shuddering soul?
And would'st thou bid me court her faery form When, as she sports her in some happier mood, Her many-colour'd robes Dance varying to the Sun?
Ah vainly does the Pilgrim, whose long road Leads o'er the barren mountain's storm-vext height, With anxious gaze survey The fruitful far-off vale.
Oh there are those who love the pensive song To whom all sounds of Mirth are dissonant! There are who at this hour Will love to contemplate!
For hopeless Sorrow hails the lapse of Time, Rejoicing when the fading orb of day Is sunk again in night, That one day more is gone.
And he who bears Affliction's heavy load With patient piety, well pleas'd he knows The World a pilgrimage, The Grave the inn of rest.
"The door was shut, as doors should be, Before you went to bed last night; Yet Jack Frost has got in, you see, And left your window silver white.
He must have waited till you slept; And not a single word he spoke, But pencilled o'er the panes and crept Away again before you woke.
And now you cannot see the hills Nor fields that stretch beyond the lane; But there are fairer things than these His fingers traced on every pane." - Gabriel Setoun, Jack Frost
The leaves are whirling in the wind Clouds a stirring What a warm January day. The squirrels have come out to play Running and scurrying all the way. The sun is hiding somewhere Somewhere way up high
The warmth of a January Day Warms the heart in everyway Trees in motion swaying and Swooping with a notion
January first isn't New Year's. Everyone knows that. The real new year starts in September when school starts. January comes in the middle of the year, when the edges of your notebook are all worn and those new pencils with your name in gold have been broken or borrowed or lost. And your mother starts looking at your shoes and saying, "Are those getting too tight for you?" Everything's old by January. The teacher has long since stopped playing games to learn your names and asking how your summer was. And you're right in the middle, smack in the middle of the hardest math. There's nothing new about January. But your parents don't know that, with their party horns and midnight kisses. And they have the calendar on their side. So Happy New Year, anyway. You might as well pretend.
I made myself a snow ball as perfect as could be I thought I'd keep it as a pet and let it sleep with me I made it some pajamas and a pillow for it's head Then, last night it ran away But first -- it wet the bed.
Jack Frost nips at your nose, tickles your fingers, tickles your toes! Jack Frost soon will be here, riding the breeze- painting the trees- That's how we know that winter is near!
"You think I am dead," The apple tree said, "Because I have never a leaf to show- Because I stoop, And my branches droop, And the dull gray mosses over me grow!
But I'm still alive in trunk and shoot; The buds of next May I fold away- But I pity the withered grass at my root."
"You think I am dead," The quick grass said, "Because I have parted with stem and blade! But under the ground, I am safe and sound With the snow's thick blanket over me laid.
I'm all alive, and ready to shoot, Should the spring of the year Come dancing here- But I pity the flower without branch or root."
"You think I am dead," A soft voice said, "Because not a branch or root I own. I never have died, but close I hide In a plumy seed that the wind has sown.
Patient I wait through the long winter hours; You will see me again- I shall laugh at you then, Out of the eyes of a hundred flowers.
A chubby little snowman Had a carrot nose Along came a bunny And what do you suppose? That hungry little bunny Looking for some lunch Ate that little snowman’s nose Nibble, nibble, crunch!
Snow is so white. I long all winter for a sight of color. And there, beautiful but bare, is a bit of red to clear my head and help me remember snow is October through December plus a month or more on each end. A kind of sandwich of year, snow in the middle, spring and fall on either side. The color has not died. But waits below hidden there beneath the white just waiting for the toasting light.
Ring out, wild bells, to the wild sky, The flying cloud, the frosty light: The year is dying in the night; Ring out, wild bells, and let them die.
Ring out the old, ring in the new, Ring, happy bells, across the snow: The year is going, let him go; Ring out the false, ring in the true.
Snow
New Snow by Catharine Bryant Rowles
The pines are white powdered, Delicately tossed With fairy filigrees Of silver frost.
The top of the mountain Is lost in a cloud, While the world is silent And the winds unloud.
Drink in the beauty, The shadows…the glow… The wonder of winter And new white snow!
Jack Frost
Jack Frost by Gabriel Setoun The door was shut, as doors should be, Before you went to bed last night; Yet Jack Frost has got in, you see, And left your window silver white. He must have waited till you slept; And not a single word he spoke, But pencilled o'er the panes and crept Away again before you woke. And now you cannot see the hills Nor fields that stretch beyond the lane; But there are fairer things than these His fingers traced on every pane. Rocks and castles towering high; Hills and dales, and streams and fields; And knights in armor riding by, With nodding plumes and shining shields. And here are little boats, and there Big ships with sails spread to the breeze; And yonder, palm trees waving fair On islands set in silver seas, And butterflies with gauzy wings; And herds of cows and flocks of sheep; And fruit and flowers and all the things You see when you are sound asleep. For, creeping softly underneath The door when all the lights are out, Jack Frost takes every breath you breathe, And knows the things you think about. He paints them on the window-pane In fairy lines with frozen steam; And when you wake you see again The lovely things you saw in dream.
Winter-Time
ReplyDeleteby Robert Louis Stevenson
Late lies the wintry sun a-bed,
A frosty, fiery sleepy-head;
Blinks but an hour or two; and then,
A blood-red orange, sets again.
Before the stars have left the skies,
At morning in the dark I rise;
And shivering in my nakedness,
By the cold candle, bathe and dress.
Close by the jolly fire I sit
To warm my frozen bones a bit;
Or with a reindeer-sled, explore
The colder countries round the door.
When to go out, my nurse doth wrap
Me in my comforter and cap;
The cold wind burns my face, and blows
Its frosty pepper up my nose.
Black are my steps on silver sod;
Thick blows my frosty breath abroad;
And tree and house, and hill and lake,
Are frosted like a wedding cake.
Snow Ball
ReplyDeleteby Shel Silverstein
I made myself a snow ball as perfect as could be
I thought I'd keep it as a pet and let it sleep with me
I made it some pajamas and a pillow for its head
Then, last night it ran away.
~~I loved reading Shel Silverstein as a child and found that his poetry worked wonders when I was looking for subjects to get my oldest son interested in reading. I hope everyone enjoys!~~Becky Speer
This comment has been removed by the author.
ReplyDeleteA Calendar of Sonnets: January by Helen Hunt Jackson
ReplyDeleteO Winter! frozen pulse and heart of fire,
What loss is theirs who from thy kingdom turn
Dismayed, and think thy snow a sculptured urn
Of death! Far sooner in midsummer tire
The streams than under ice. June could not hire
Her roses to forego the strength they learn
In sleeping on thy breast. No fires can burn
The bridges thou dost lay where men desire
In vain to build.
O Heart, when Love's sun goes
To northward, and the sounds of singing cease,
Keep warm by inner fires, and rest in peace.
Sleep on content, as sleeps the patient rose.
Walk boldly on the white untrodden snows,
The winter is the winter's own release.
Frost
ReplyDeleteby Valerie Bloom.
Overnight, a giant spilt icing sugar on the ground,
He spilt it in the hedgerows, and the trees without a sound,
He made a wedding-cake of the haystack in the field,
He dredged the countryside and the grass was all concealed,
He sprinkled sugar on the roof, in patches not too neat,
And in the morning when we woke, the world around was sweet
This comment has been removed by the author.
ReplyDeleteWinter Time Poem
ReplyDeleteby Mary Ryer
Icy fingers, icy toes,
Bright red cheeks and bright red nose.
Watch the snowflakes as they fall,
Try so hard to count them all.
Build a snowman way up high,
See if he can touch the sky.
Snow forts, snowballs, angels, too,
In the snow, so white and new.
Slip and slide and skate so fast.
Wintertime is here at last.
I thought actions could be added easily to this poem as well. Here are the ideas I had for each line:
The first line shiver,
then point to cheeks and nose,
next raise hands and make them fall to the floor,
then point finger across front of body pretending to count,
raise hands up high,
stand on tippy toes to touch the sky,
move jumping jack position like a snow angel,
brighten eyes while reciting white and new,
pretend to skate by sliding feet side to side, and last
smile because Winter Time is here and it is fun.
Five Little Snowflakes
ReplyDeleteauthor unknown
One little snowflake had nothing to do.
(hold up one finger)
Along came another, and
(hold up two fingers)
Then there were two!
Two little snowflakes laughing with me.
Along came another, and
(hold up three fingers)
Then there were three.
Three little snowflakes looking for more.
Along came another, and
(hold up four fingers)
Then there were four.
Four little snowflakes dancing a jive.
(make fingers dance)
Along came another, &
(hold up five fingers)
Then there were five.
Five little snowflakes having so much fun.
Our came the sun, and
Then there were none!
(put fingers down)
Little Snowman
ReplyDelete(to the tune of Little Teapot)
author unknown
I'm a little snowman round and fat.
Here are my mittens,
Here is my hat.
Add a little scarf and a carrot nose.
I'll stand so tall when the cold wind blows.
January
ReplyDeleteNow is here--
A fine new start
For a whole new start
The snow comes down
In the dark of night.
When we awake
The world is white.
In January
When there's snow
We get our sleds
And away we go.
(author unknown)
"Little January
ReplyDeleteTapped at my door today.
And said, "Put on your winter wraps,
And come outdoors to play."
Little January
Is always full of fun;
Until the set of sun.
Little January
Will stay a month with me
And we will have such jolly times -
Just come along and see."
- Winifred C. Marshall, January
Ode Written On The First Of January by Robert Southey
ReplyDeleteCome melancholy Moralizer--come!
Gather with me the dark and wintry wreath;
With me engarland now
The SEPULCHRE OF TIME!
Come Moralizer to the funeral song!
I pour the dirge of the Departed Days,
For well the funeral song
Befits this solemn hour.
But hark! even now the merry bells ring round
With clamorous joy to welcome in this day,
This consecrated day,
To Mirth and Indolence.
Mortal! whilst Fortune with benignant hand
Fills to the brim thy cup of happiness,
Whilst her unclouded sun
Illumes thy summer day,
Canst thou rejoice--rejoice that Time flies fast?
That Night shall shadow soon thy summer sun?
That swift the stream of Years
Rolls to Eternity?
If thou hast wealth to gratify each wish,
If Power be thine, remember what thou art--
Remember thou art Man,
And Death thine heritage!
Hast thou known Love? does Beauty's better sun
Cheer thy fond heart with no capricious smile,
Her eye all eloquence,
Her voice all harmony?
Oh state of happiness! hark how the gale
Moans deep and hollow o'er the leafless grove!
Winter is dark and cold--
Where now the charms of Spring?
Sayst thou that Fancy paints the future scene
In hues too sombrous? that the dark-stol'd Maid
With stern and frowning front
Appals the shuddering soul?
And would'st thou bid me court her faery form
When, as she sports her in some happier mood,
Her many-colour'd robes
Dance varying to the Sun?
Ah vainly does the Pilgrim, whose long road
Leads o'er the barren mountain's storm-vext height,
With anxious gaze survey
The fruitful far-off vale.
Oh there are those who love the pensive song
To whom all sounds of Mirth are dissonant!
There are who at this hour
Will love to contemplate!
For hopeless Sorrow hails the lapse of Time,
Rejoicing when the fading orb of day
Is sunk again in night,
That one day more is gone.
And he who bears Affliction's heavy load
With patient piety, well pleas'd he knows
The World a pilgrimage,
The Grave the inn of rest.
"The door was shut, as doors should be,
ReplyDeleteBefore you went to bed last night;
Yet Jack Frost has got in, you see,
And left your window silver white.
He must have waited till you slept;
And not a single word he spoke,
But pencilled o'er the panes and crept
Away again before you woke.
And now you cannot see the hills
Nor fields that stretch beyond the lane;
But there are fairer things than these
His fingers traced on every pane."
- Gabriel Setoun, Jack Frost
Posted by Rebecca Selfridge
January Warmth
ReplyDeleteby Melanie Dickie
The leaves are whirling in the wind
Clouds a stirring
What a warm January day.
The squirrels have come out to play
Running and scurrying all the way.
The sun is hiding somewhere
Somewhere way up high
The warmth of a January Day
Warms the heart in everyway
Trees in motion swaying and
Swooping with a notion
Happy New Year, Anyway
ReplyDeleteby Joanna Cole
January first isn't New Year's.
Everyone knows that.
The real new year starts in September
when school starts.
January comes in the middle of the year,
when the edges of your notebook are all worn
and those new pencils with your name in gold
have been broken or borrowed or lost.
And your mother starts looking at your shoes
and saying, "Are those getting too tight for you?"
Everything's old by January.
The teacher has long since stopped
playing games to learn your names
and asking how your summer was.
And you're right in the middle,
smack in the middle of the hardest math.
There's nothing new about January.
But your parents don't know that,
with their party horns and midnight kisses.
And they have the calendar on their side.
So Happy New Year, anyway.
You might as well pretend.
Jason R
ReplyDeleteThe Year
by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
What can be said in New Year rhymes,
That's not been said a thousand times?
The new years come, the old years go,
We know we dream, we dream we know.
We rise up laughing with the light,
We lie down weeping with the night.
We hug the world until it stings,
We curse it then and sigh for wings.
We live, we love, we woo, we wed,
We wreathe our brides, we sheet our dead.
We laugh, we weep, we hope, we fear,
And that's the burden of the year.
On New Year's Day
ReplyDeleteby Ken Nesbitt
On New Year's Day a year ago,
I started off the year
by making resolutions
that were probably severe.
I said I'd save my money,
as this seemed so very wise.
I vowed I would improve my health.
I swore I'd exercise.
I stated I would do my homework
every single day.
I'd brush my teeth religiously
to ward off tooth decay.
I'd eat my fruits and vegetables
and keep my bedroom clean.
I'd treat my sister kindly
though she's often very mean.
My resolutions lasted me
about a half a day.
I promised I would keep them
but I broke them anyway.
So now I'm fat and penniless.
My homework's overdue.
My sister's mad. My teeth are bad.
My room is messy too.
And yet I think I may have found
the best of all solutions,
and this year I've resolved
to not make ANY resolutions.
Snow Ball
ReplyDeleteI made myself a snow ball as perfect as could be
I thought I'd keep it as a pet and let it sleep with me
I made it some pajamas and a pillow for it's head
Then, last night it ran away
But first -- it wet the bed.
Shel Silverstein
Icicles
ReplyDeleteWe are little icicles
Melting in the sun.
Can you see our tiny teardrops
Falling one by one?
I decided to post another poem I found because after I posted my first one I realized that someone had posted the same one. So, enjoy two from me.
Jack Frost
ReplyDeleteby B. Wolf
Jack Frost nips at your nose,
tickles your fingers,
tickles your toes!
Jack Frost soon will be here,
riding the breeze-
painting the trees-
That's how we know that winter is near!
Talking In Their Sleep
ReplyDeleteBy: Edith M. Thomas
"You think I am dead,"
The apple tree said,
"Because I have never a leaf to show-
Because I stoop,
And my branches droop,
And the dull gray mosses over me grow!
But I'm still alive in trunk and shoot;
The buds of next May
I fold away-
But I pity the withered grass at my root."
"You think I am dead,"
The quick grass said,
"Because I have parted with stem and blade!
But under the ground,
I am safe and sound
With the snow's thick blanket over me laid.
I'm all alive, and ready to shoot,
Should the spring of the year
Come dancing here-
But I pity the flower without branch or root."
"You think I am dead,"
A soft voice said,
"Because not a branch or root I own.
I never have died, but close I hide
In a plumy seed that the wind has sown.
Patient I wait through the long winter hours;
You will see me again-
I shall laugh at you then,
Out of the eyes of a hundred flowers.
I put this in the wrong blog, like last week. It was on my blog site instead of yours..sorry!
ReplyDeletefound this poem at: http://www.tommygpoetry.com/snowday.html
I run to the window with thoughts in my head..
“Please be just like the weatherman said!”
I look outside with a loud HOORAY!
Just like I prayed, a beautiful SNOW DAY!
I bundle all up, Mom says, “not enough.”
I put on some more, and fly out the door!
Wonderful snowflakes fall from the sky.
Snow everywhere, blinding the eyes.
Kids all around in bright colored clothes,
Every face has a red, runny nose.
No thoughts of school, without a care.
Moms are happy we’re out of their hair!
Snow days are full of winter bliss.
Throwing snow balls, you don’t want to miss.
Sledding downhill,
Taking snowy spills!
Snow men, angels, tunnels, and forts,
faces so cold and scarves of all sorts.
At lunch, hot chocolate,
Macaroni and cheese,
“All Done Mommy!
Can we go back out PLEASE?”
A dry set of clothes and off we go,
To have more fun in cold, fluffy snow.
Jumping and diving in snow everywhere.
Snow up your nose, on your face, in your hair.
A wonderful snow day is what everyone needs.
Next time it snows…
Please go out and play for me!
Written by Tommy G.
Snow Fingerplay
ReplyDeleteA chubby little snowman
Had a carrot nose
Along came a bunny
And what do you suppose?
That hungry little bunny
Looking for some lunch
Ate that little snowman’s nose Nibble, nibble, crunch!
Author unknown
Finding Color
ReplyDeleteby Jane Yolen
Snow
is so
white.
I long all winter
for a sight
of color.
And there,
beautiful
but bare,
is a bit of red
to clear my head
and help me remember
snow is October
through December
plus a month or more
on each end.
A kind of sandwich
of year,
snow in the middle,
spring and fall
on either side.
The color
has not died.
But waits below
hidden there
beneath the white
just waiting for
the toasting light.
January Poems
ReplyDeleteNew Year’s Day
In Memoriam by Alfred, Lord Tennyson
Ring out, wild bells, to the wild sky,
The flying cloud, the frosty light:
The year is dying in the night;
Ring out, wild bells, and let them die.
Ring out the old, ring in the new,
Ring, happy bells, across the snow:
The year is going, let him go;
Ring out the false, ring in the true.
Snow
New Snow by Catharine Bryant Rowles
The pines are white powdered,
Delicately tossed
With fairy filigrees
Of silver frost.
The top of the mountain
Is lost in a cloud,
While the world is silent
And the winds unloud.
Drink in the beauty,
The shadows…the glow…
The wonder of winter
And new white snow!
Jack Frost
Jack Frost by Gabriel Setoun
The door was shut, as doors should be,
Before you went to bed last night;
Yet Jack Frost has got in, you see,
And left your window silver white.
He must have waited till you slept;
And not a single word he spoke,
But pencilled o'er the panes and crept
Away again before you woke.
And now you cannot see the hills
Nor fields that stretch beyond the lane;
But there are fairer things than these
His fingers traced on every pane.
Rocks and castles towering high;
Hills and dales, and streams and fields;
And knights in armor riding by,
With nodding plumes and shining shields.
And here are little boats, and there
Big ships with sails spread to the breeze;
And yonder, palm trees waving fair
On islands set in silver seas,
And butterflies with gauzy wings;
And herds of cows and flocks of sheep;
And fruit and flowers and all the things
You see when you are sound asleep.
For, creeping softly underneath
The door when all the lights are out,
Jack Frost takes every breath you breathe,
And knows the things you think about.
He paints them on the window-pane
In fairy lines with frozen steam;
And when you wake you see again
The lovely things you saw in dream.