Surround Them with Poetry - From Dad's Point of View

by Jim Zola

Poetry is a natural element in human existence, like breathing and language and music of the heart. And yet, somewhere between the first rhythms of Mother Goose and the tick tick tock of our busy adult lives, this natural need, the understanding and acceptance of what is poetic, is lost. Is it the poet’s fault, the listener, the teachers, the noisy interference of work and responsibility? I ‘m not sure. But I do know how important poetry is for the child. The play of language, the music, and the repetition all help a child learn about language itself and ultimately how to read. I am sure that some of the benefits we receive from poetry as a child could be realized by our adult selves.

Think about how children are surrounded by poetry (hopefully they are). Nursery rhymes, lullabies and Mother Goose, hand games, finger plays, bathtime songs, jump rope rhymes. Even the little playground taunts – Sam and Rosa sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G.

Mother Goose is the kingpin of all that is poetic in a child’s life, the godmother of all poetry, the roots beneath every successful poet. The beauty of Mother Goose is in the nonsense that could actually be explained, to those who care to listen, in historic terms, the music of the rhythms, the levels of meaning. Certainly, Mother Goose is far from politically correct. Lots of violence and slander. But the words and the sounds these words make are all that really matter with the poetry of Mother Goose.

Little Tommy Tittlemouse

Lived in a little house:

He caught fishes

In other men’s ditches.

Or how about this one –

For want of a nail

The shoe was lost.

For want of a shoe

The horse was lost.

For want of a horse

The rider was lost.

For want of a rider

The battle was lost.

For want of a battle

The kingdom was lost.

And all for the want

Of a horse shoe nail.

Now we could analyze and dissect this poem. Almost perfect syllabics, the political ramifications. But lets not. The purpose of Mother Goose is to present rhymes that are easy to memorize and recite out loud. The art of reciting poetry is near lost despite the many coffeehouses springing up on college campuses. We need to allow kids to enjoy poetry "just because". We need to enjoy poetry ourselves "just because". And learn to share it.

I will recommend some poets and poetry books to try with children of all ages. Teen-agers might enjoy these poets, or they might be ready to move on to more "adult" poets. Here are three books I would recommend –

Piping Down the Valleys Wild: Poetry for the Young of All Ages – edited by Nancy Larrick

The Butterfly Jar – by Jeffrey Moss

Joyful Noise: Poems for Two Voices – by Paul Fleischman

Of course, you can’t go wrong if you pick up a book by either Jack Prelutsky or Shel Silverstein. But here are some other poets you may not have heard of that have several books you could chose from: James Stevenson, Ogden Nash, Lee Bennett Hopkins, Eve Merriam, Eugene Field, Frank Asch, X. J. Kennedy, Douglas Florian, Nikki Grimes, Eloise Greenfield, J. Patrick Lewis, And Charlotte Pomerantz.

And finally, a newer poet that I think merits special mention. Kristine O’Connell George just has three books – The Great Frog Race, Old Elm Speaks: Tree Poems, and her most recent Little Dog Poems. I find her children’s poetry to be a wonderful alternative to the zany word play and off-the-wall nonsense of Prelutsky/Silverstein and cohorts. In her three books, Kristine George shows an attention to poetic detail, a clever sense of humor, and an awareness of the full range of emotions a child experiences. And she manages all this without excess and without falling back on sentimentality.

Do yourself a favor. Give poetry a chance again. Forget that 8^th grade English teacher that told you you were wrong to think that the rock in that poem was nothing more than a rock. Check out some of the books I mentioned. Read them with your child. Take a poetry break. Memorize a poem and recite it at the office.

Here’s a little poem by James Stevenson from his book Popcorn. My gift to all of you.

Dogs go in the back seat,

Always in the back seat,

Miles in the backseat,

Hours in the backseat.

But in the parking lots of shopping centers,

You’ll see: Dogs get their chance

At last

To drive.

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