A Poetry Friday Celebration

Welcome, Poetry Friday bloggers and fans.

Poetry Friday is here this week. Thanks for joining the celebration!

I’m excited to host Poetry Friday this week because it’s a special day. The third graders at Northfield Elementary, where I am poet-in-residence each spring, have their poetry celebration this afternoon!

Thanks to everyone who has been following this residency and reading the kids’ poems. I have a few more to share today.

This year we wrote list poems, food poems, and played with our imaginations in a pocket poem workshop. Links to the posts in this series, which include workshop descriptions and student responses, are at the end of this post.

Please add the link to your post below. If you have a moment, leave a comment for the Northfield poets. They’ve been working hard on their revisions and I can’t wait to see the final poems today. The poems you read in this post are first drafts.

Pocket Poem
By Isaac A.

I have a jacket
a jacket made of pockets.
In pocket 9, I have a leopard
gecko. I take him outside
and feed him insects. I will
let him loose to hunt,
but I follow so he does
not get lost or hurt.
I think he likes me
when he squeaks and peeps
happily! I love him and I will
always let him eat and
drink when he wants to.

In my next pocket, pocket
66, I have a snake. He
slithers in my pocket.
He loves playing hide-and-
go-seek. But when I can’t
find him, I call his name.
“Snakey!” and he slithers
out from a rock, log, or a
fence!

***

My Jacket, Pocket #9
By Harry P.

I have a jacket
a jacket made of pockets.
The pockets all have numbers,
numbers on the jacket.
Number nine has special skis.
The skis would have
boosters and two powerful springs.
The boosters would help
because it would get
me up the mountain
faster than the list.
The springs would help
because it would spring
me back up when
I fell down. I would
smell metal and
motor oil. It feels bumpy,
rough, and hot.
So, yeah!
That’s what’s in pocket
number nine.

***

Pocket #2
By Brady S.

In pocket #2, I kept a magic shoe.
I could jump so high, I could touch the
sky. And ran so I went into the past.
The shoe turned red when I
went to bed. When I want to be
sneaky and grab the last piece
of cake, the only sound I make
is like a piece of grass getting
draped on the floor. What’s in the other
38 pockets? I don’t know, you’ll have
to guess. It’s not for me to tell you.

***

Saturday’s Doughnuts
By Cameron D.

I wake up in the morning
running as fast as Sonic.
I tell my dad,
“Let’s go!”
My brother and me fly into the car.
We drive and drive and drive.
With Krispy Kreme in our sight,
all brand new.
“Finally!” we both yell
as my dad orders.
We watch in amazement.
Doughnut after doughnut after doughnut.
Seconds seem like minutes.
My dad yells, “Come on!”
We jump in the car,
our mouths watering.
We fly inside our house.
We grab milk and eat, eat, eat.
After, we lay full with those doughnuts,
fresh and good.
The best treat of Saturday.
Saturday’s doughnuts.

***

Chips
By Cole S.

I like the pop of the bag,
the snap when I bite down,
the salty, crunchy taste.
I like every kind!
I like it — like potato chips,
Old Bay chips, and Doritos.

***

Four s’mores recipes from Dinner Then Dessert.

Marshmallow Mayhem
By Erin S.

Wait, campfire crackles.
Tents surround me.
It’s camping time!
We run in the fields and chase each other
instead of diving in the tent.
Far away, we see smoke
and that smell we’d know anywhere.
S’mores! We help make them because
there’s a huge amount of people.
Our reward is the gooey,
slimy marshmallows. We went
to cook, but mine fell down.
SPLAT!
I got another and this
time it didn’t fall.
Everything that made
a s’more was on it, but
the hardness of the chocolate.
We put them on the arm of our chairs.
Then we bite into the
creamy, gloopy, crunchiness
of the marshmallow or
s’more, as you could call it.
Then we doze away.

***

Words in My House
By Caroline J.

I hide words inside my house.
Words that make me happy.

Bed.
Comfortable.
Loud.

You can see them.
I find them waiting for me.
Like the hamster hiding inside my house.
You can see it.
I know what’s in there.

Sofa.
Safe.
Table.
Exciting.
TV.
Happy.

Happiness is in there.
My family is in there.

The words are playing together
when I am saying or thinking them.

Warmth.
Conversation.
Laughter.
Breeze
is in my house.

My friends the words
go home before I do.
But they never
go away.

***

Thanks again to the Northfield community for allowing me to share these poems. All are posted here with permission.

I’ll be back next spring with a new group of third grade poets!

For more of this year’s student poems, please check out:
Poems from Third Grade, Part 1 — List Poems (Ms. Spencer, Ms. Sochol-Solomon, and Ms. Scavo’s classes)
Poems from Third Grade, Part 2 — List Poems (Ms. Hilliard and Ms. Trodden’s classes)
Poems from Third Grade, Part 3 — Food Poems (Ms. Hilliard and Ms. Trodden’s classes)
Poems from Third Grade, Part 4 — Food Poems (Ms. Spencer, Ms. Sochol-Solomon, and Ms. Scavo’s classes)
Poems from Third Grade, Part 5 — Pocket Poems (ll Third Grade Classes)