Radford City Schools

Memory Poems

Thirty Days

Thirty days hath September,

April, June and November;

February has twenty-eight alone

All the rest have thirty-one

Except in Leap Year, that’s the time

When February’s Days are twenty-nine.

 

A Poem Is a Little Path

                                                          By Charles Ghigna

A poem is a little path

That leads you through the trees.

It takes you to the cliffs and shores,

To anywhere you please.

 

Follow it and trust your way

With mind and heart as one.

And when the journey's over,

You'll find you've just begun.

 

Back to School

                                          By Aileen Fisher

When summer smells like apples

and shadows feel cool

and falling leaves make dapples

of color on the pool

and wind is in the maples

and sweaters are the rule

and hazy days spell lazy ways,

it's hard to go to school.

 

But I go!

 

Dreams

by Langston Hughes

Hold fast to dreams
For if dreams die
Life is a broken-winged bird
That cannot fly.


Hold fast to dreams
For when dreams go
Life is a barren field
Frozen with snow.

 

 Autumn Wealth

                               By Alice Hoffman

Golden leaves aflutter

     Floating down from trees

Golden sunshine tangled

     With each passing breeze

Golden glow in gardens

     Goldenrod in fields;

What a wealth of beauty

     Autumn always yields!

 

Autumn Memories

By Leland B. Jacobs

For my autumn memories

    I'll choose goldenrod,

A spray of purple asters,       

     A fuzzy milkweed pod,

A dahlia proud and stately,

     A maple leaf so red,

A bunch of grapes, an apple, 

     And a lowly teasel head.

 

my friend

                                     by Emily Hearn  

my friend is

like bark

rounding a tree

 

he warms

like sun

on a winter day

 

he cools

like water

in the hot noon

 

his voice

is ready

as a spring bird

 

he is

my friend

and I 

am his

 

With a Friend

                             by Vivian Gouled

I can talk with a friend

and walk with a friend

and share my umbrella

in the rain.

 

I can play with a friend

and stay with a friend

and learn with a friend

and explain.

 

I can eat with a friend

and compete with a friend

and even sometimes

disagree.

 

I can ride with a friend

and take pride with a friend.

A friend can mean 

so much to me!

 

September

                                              by Solveig Paulson Russell

 

September is a lady

In a russet gown;

She marches through the country;

She marches through the town;

She stops at every schoolhouse

And rings a magic bell;

 

She dances on each doorstep

And weaves a magic spell.

She weaves a magic spell that goes

Winging through the land

And gathers children to school

In a joyous band.

 

September

                            by Brierly Ashour

When goldenrod is yellow

And the leaves are turning brown--

Reluctantly the summer goes

In a cloud of thistledown.

 

When squirrels are harvesting

And birds in flight appear---

By these autumn signs we know

September days are here.

 

 

                                                                                October 

                                                                                        by Winifred C. Marshall

 

October is a gypsy queen 

In a dress of red and gold.

She sleeps beneath the silver

     moon

When nights are crisp and cold.

 

The meadows flame with color 

   now,

Which once were cool and green.

Wild asters and the goldenrod

Bow low to greet their queen.

 

When she is tripping through the

    wood

With song so clear and sweet,

The autumn leaves come sifting
   down,

And rustle 'neath her feet.

 

                                                                                   October 

                                                                                   By D. Maitland Bushby

 

October! October!

There's magic in the name---

A clear sky, a blue sky,

And sunsets all aflame.

 

October! October! 

Its harvest time again;

The high corn, the low corn,

Is gathered in the bin.

 

October! October!

Sing birds with open throats;

A long son, a last song,

Of tender parting notes.

 

October! October!

The hills are all aglow 

With red leaves, and gold leaves,

That dance when soft winds 

blow.

 

October! October!

I love you more each year;

Your warm days, your soft days,

To me they are most dear.

 

                                                                                                Beetles 

                                                                                    By Ethan Jacobson

Emerald, ruby, turquoise blue, 

Beetles come in every hue:

Beetles that pinch or sting or

bite,

Tiger beetles that claw and fight,

Beetles whose burnished armor 

gleams,

Whirligig beetles that dance on 

streams,

Antlered beetles in staglike 

poses,

Beetles that smell--- and not like roses,

Others that click like castanets,

That dig or swim or zoom like 

jets,

Hard coffee beans, brown as 

leather,

Or shimmering bright as a 

peacock feather!

 

                                                                                The Insects' World

                                                                                 By Ethan Jacobson

Insects are creatures with three pairs of legs.

Some swim, some fly; they lay

millions of eggs

They don't wear their skeletons 

in, but out.

Their blood just goes sloshing

loosely about.

They come in three parts. Some

are bare, some have hair.

Their hearts are in back; they

circulate air.

They smell with their feelers and

taste with their feet,

And there's scarcely a thing that some insects won't eat:

Flowers and woodwork and 

books and rugs,

Overcoats, people, and other bugs.

When five billion trillion keep munching each day,

It's a wonder the world isn't 

nibbled away!

 

                                                                                     Who Hath a Book

                                                                                      By Wilbur D. Nesbit

Who hath a book

Has friends at hand,

And gold and gear

At his command; 

And rich estates,

If he but look,

Are held by him

Who hath a book.


Who hath a book

Has but to read

And he may be

A king indeed;

His kingdom is 

His inglenook;

All this is his

Who hath a book.

 

                                                                                                  I like a book

                                                                                           By M. Lucille Ford

I like a book. It tells me things

Of ancient peoples and their

kings

And what they used to do;

Of giants in some far- off land

And things I hardly understand,

Both make-believe and true.

 

I like books. It's fun to see

How interesting they can be---

As people are. And so 

I try to treat them like a friend

And many pleasant hours spend

In learning what they know.

 

Trees

By Shirley Bauer

 

Trees are for birds.

Trees are for children.

Trees are to make tree houses in.

Trees are to swing swings on.

Trees are for the wind to blow through.

Trees are to hide behind in "Hide and Seek."

Trees are to have tea parties under.

Trees are for kites to get caught in.

Trees are to make cool shade in winter.

Trees are for apples to grow on, and pears;

Trees are to chop down and call. "TIMBER-R-R!"

Trees make mothers say, "What a lovely picture to paint!"

Trees make fathers say, "What a lot of leaves to rake this fall!"

 

 

A Tree is Beautiful to See

By Edna Jeanne Graham

 

A tree is graceful, straight, and tall,

Outlined against the sunset sky, 

Its leafy branches lifted high--

A tree is graceful, straight, and tall!

 

A tree is beautiful to see,

When drenched with rain, its

limbs droop low,

Or when they're heaped with

falling snow

A tree is beautiful to see!

 

A tree is such a lovely sight,

When dressed in autumn red

and gold

Or when its first buds unfold--

A tree is such a lovely sight!

 

 My Teacher, My Friend

                                        by Regina Sauro

My teacher is a special friend.

She lifts a magic lantern high

And lights dark corners.

She holds the precious gift

Of knowledge in her hands,

And shares it with me.

She shows me the wonder of life,

The miracle of nature

And the mystery of science.

She opens a book,

And gives me the world.

 

                                                                                        Were You Afraid?

                                                                                              By: Beryl Frank

Were you afraid, Pilgrim,
When you took leave of all you

knew

To go across the ocean

Into a world unknown?

Were you afraid, Pilgrim,

When you saw the wild rough

land

That didn't really welcome you,

And strange new people

Who stood and stared?

Were you afraid, Pilgrim,

In your white starched collar

And silver-buckled shoes,

Or did you know

That this was freedom's road?

 

                                                                                                  First Thanksgiving

                                                                                                      By: Alieen Fisher

Venison for stew and roasting,

oysters in the ashes toasting,

geese done to a turn,

berries (dried) and wild grapes

(seeded)

mixed with dough and gently 

kneaded--

what a feast to earn!

 

Indian corn in strange disguises,

ash cakes, hoe cakes (many 

sizes),

kernels roasted brown...

after months of frugal living 

what a welcome first

Thanksgiving

there in Plymouth town!

 

 

Now December's Here By Aileen Fisher

 

Everything is "secrets" 

now December's here: 

Secrets wrapped in tissue,

whispered in an ear,

Secrets big and bulky,

secrets small and slight,

in the strangest places,

hidden out of sight.

Packages that rattle,

packages that squeak...

Some say, "Do not open."

Some say, "Do not peek."

Secrets, secrets, secrets, 

with Christmas coming near.

....expect it is no secret

I wish that it were here.

 

 

Winter Night By Claude Weimer

 

Winter winds are blowing,

        Snow is drifting deep;

Cuddled under cover,

        Earth has gone to sleep.

 

Cozy in their houses

        Little children stay,

Where bright fires are burning,

        To keep the cold away.

 

Snug in caves and burrows

        Wild things safe are curled,

While the feet of winter

        Tramp across the world.

 

 

Before Christmas by Anne Blackwell Payne

 

Young trees of the forest,

By scores and by dozens,

Have come to the city

Like small country cousins.

 

On squares and on corners

They lend to each street

A strange kind of fragrance

That's spicy and sweet.

 

So give them a welcome, 

Be glad we are blessed

For even a season

With such sturdy guests.

 

They're waiting so gravely

The bright, joyous night,

When they will be dazzling

With color and light.

 

 

Forest Friends by Kate Eldridge

 

The gracious fir tree---

sparkly green and forest free---

keeps you warm in winter's

          winds

with yearly added limbs.

 

Upon its outstretched arms,

and adding to its charms,

perch friends and neighbors fair-

some singles and then a pair.

 

All nestled close together,

keeping warm against the 

         weather

they sing a heartfelt toast---

giving thanks to their friendly

         host.

 

I Love America By Nona Keen Duffy

 

I love America:

    Her lakes and rolling seas,

Her wooded mountainsides, 

    Her giant redwood trees!

 

I love America:

    Her fields of yellow grain,

Her villages and farms,

    That stretch across the plains.

 

I love America:

    Her mountains bleak and 

        grand,

Her highways smooth and wide,

    That circle all the land.

 

I love America:

    She has so much to give---

Her churches, schools, and all

Her homes where children

    live.

 

I love America:

    Her factories and planes,

Her rafts and boats and tugs,

    Her ships and streamlined

        trains.

 

I love America:

    From East to shining West,

For all she means to me;

    I love my country best!

 

 

Our America By Elsie M. Fowler

 

Marking Martin's Day

     By Nordette N. Adams

Some mark this day with service.

Some mark this day to shop. 

Some mark this day to tell us 

the struggle never stops. 

Some grimace, grumbling still

that we mark this day at all,

but Martin's shout for justice

helped us answer freedom's call.

He moved America

to strive for its ideals

to uphold its Declaration

and recall its founding zeal to 

     build

a glorious nation

that stands for liberty.

King pricked the people's 

conscience to seek equality.

 

 

Martin Luther King, Junior

     By Eileen Spinelli

He had a dream

He understood

the sturdy grace

of brotherhood.

 

He had a dream--

that simple joy 

would gently bless

each girl and boy.

 

He shared his dream

His wise words shone

"Join hands."

"We cannot walk alone."

 

He had a dream

all hearts can sing:

"This is our hope...

let freedom ring."