Here is my iamb poem, The Little Ravine

Way way down deep in the valley of green,
Down there, there rests a little tiny ravine.
And when a hot summer is close at hand,
By the little ravine the deer will stand.
By the little ravine kids stomp and shout,
So from the green trees birds fly out.
But way way down deep in the valley of green,
Down there where there rests a little ravine.
That there when it is winter’s turn to come,
The little kids play till’ their hands are numb.

Here is my simile poem!

Cats
Jaguars and lions, they’re really all the same,
Both go out at night like robbers, and both stalk their prey.
They hide in the grass like ants and beetles,
Then jump on their pray with claws full of needles.
They then take home their prize,
To feed their hungry little eyes.
The day is finally over for them,
Until they awake again to teach their kittens
How to get food with their little mittens.

Here is my poem on grandparents for grandparents day

Grandparents

You may think that you have grandparents,
That when it comes to you they don’t care.
But what you probably don’t realize,
Is that at your side they’re always there.
You may think that you’re abandoned,
Or left in a really tough world alone.
You may feel like an unloved dog,
That won’t even be given a bone.
But what your missing is a big thing,
It’s that you actually have some.
So while they're here on Earth,
Go on with them and have some fun.

Here is my serious Thanksgiving poem. Thanks for reading it!

Lives full of blessings

We have so many blessings,
That we don’t realize at all.
Things like our houses,
No matter big or small.
We have food to fill our tummies,
Yes we have food to spare.
So many blessings we have,
Like grandparents and parents that take care.
Many things different sizes,
Blessings the size of a hair.
So we should thank God for those blessings,
For those things kids don’t have there.

Here is my Thanksgiving funy poem, please enjoy!!!

Thanksgiving Platter

The call goes gobble gobble,
And the turkey gobbles back.
He appears out of the trees,
And the 12 gauges bead is on its neck.
The shotgun then goes boom,
And all the bullets splatter.
The man feels bad about shooting God’s creature,
But the feelings are gone when the turkey’s on a silver platter.

Here's My Attempt at a Ryhming Poem, Please Enjoy

The maple trees arms reach out as if
To give the little bird’s nest a lift,
They reach their arms up to the clouds
As if to the clouds they must bow down,
Little nests their branches hold
Little nests made of branches of gold,
And inside the nest what else would there be
Other than a bluebird baby.

Poetry

Today We Began a Poetry Unit.
I think poetry can be boring to read sometimes but when you get a good idea it can be fun to write. Notice I said sometimes it can be boring because I like to read humorous poetry. I like poetry that has a beat or rhythm and poetry I can associate with myself. Shel Silverstein is one of my favorite poets.
We read Love That Dog by Sharon Creech.
Pause #1: Kids see poetry through different eyes. They think of poetry differently. The kid’s think it should rhyme, some don’t think it has to, some don’t even care. Most of them think it’s a waste of time. He can write poetry but is too afraid to share their gift.
Pause #2: Some kids like to write poetry, some like small poetry, and some like lengthy poems. He thinks poems have one shape or way to be written or typed.
Pause #3: He doesn’t quite understand poetry but he’s starting to come through. He’s making poetry by saying what he remembers about his pet but no matter how good he is getting at it he won’t say ho wrote it. People are starting to notice his writing. Now he’s starting to decorate it.
Pause #4: He’s starting to like poetry and noticing how it can be shaped differently. He is willing to put his name on his poetry and doesn’t want anyone to not write their names on theirs. He is starting to really enjoy poetry and is having fun making his own and reading others.
Pause #5: He’s not worried that he was copying words of a poet. He kind of wants to meet some of his favorite authors. He wrote a letter to see if he’ll come to their school. Now the boy is angry because it could take months for him to come or even answer the letter.
Pause #6: The boy is making poetry but he doesn’t even know it. Now he wants to type his own poems. He learned about spell check and wants to take typing lessons. Now he’s opening up and typed his own poem that was a pretty sad one about his dog Sky.
End: Walter Dean Meyers is coming and the room is full of poems and books by Walter Dean Meyers. Walter came and the boy loved the poems, the way he smiled, and even the way he laughed. Walter didn’t care and actually liked that the boy was inspired by his words. The boy wrote Walter a thank you letter that was full of poems written by Jack.

Jack got his inspiration from his teacher, the poet Mr. Walter Dean Meyers, other poems he read, and from things he remembered about his dog Sky. Here is my attempt to write a poem. It was inspired by the Jack’s apple shaped poem. If it were on paper I would make it a candle shape.

Jack was nimble Jack was quick, Jack jumped over the candle stick. But what if Jack didn’t make it? Jack’s bottom, the candle would bake it.

Candle candle burning bright,
Giving off a blinding light.
Candle candles wax is shrinking,
Now the candle is stinking.
To the store to get a new one,
Grab the one that smells like a honey bun.
Candle candle smell is delightful,
Dance by candlelight til’ it’s nightfall.