50 Poems in one Term

1. 50 Poems in one Term This term I decided to introduce my classes to more poetry. This is my attempt to read 50 poems to my students in one term.

2. Springtime by John Alison This is the first of my 50 poems! I did not know this poem until a few weeks ago when I was given a broach with this quote embroidered on it. (see photo next slide1) A quick google search and I found the poem. And so it became number one poem.

3. The Broach that started it all.

4. 1)Springtime by John Allison 16 July Springtime The yellow crocuses break open the ochre clay. It's good to notice them, you say. We sit together on the green garden bench beneath an oak. Quercus robur. That reassuring lyricism of the Latin names displayed on little plaques... I look across the pond. Carp nuzzle their shadows on the weeded rocks. And leaning back, arms stretched out and then back, you open up, the body

5. and its light unsheathed. The light given up to light, petals on the water. Death is similar to this: your hands are flowering in that space behind your head, and listening. It is almost as though something else is breathing quite close by, invisibly. the mystery of the names... Albizzia. Gleditsia. Acuba japonica. And I am listening, seeing. Seeing, like someone twice alive.

6. Brown Brother - by Joseph Iosefo (Spoken Word) 17th July I first came across this poem via Twitter and then via an email. John Campbell of TV3 then had Joseph on his programme. However, if I am being honest, most of my students don't really watch Campbell Live! (Sorry John) So it was really cool to show my classes. See their feedback here. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g7kbakbqKr0 Joseph Iosefo Mt Roskill College transcript here http://lybio.net/j-s-iosefo-brown-brother-spoken-word/speeches/

7. An extract I am Brown. Brown like a palm tree – bark of palm tree which supports my heritage. Brown like the table of which my family sits and eat upon. Brown like the paper bag containing burgers and fries by which my people consume. Brown like the mud on a Rugby field by which my people play. Brown like the coat of the guitar by which my people strum. Brown like the sugar or the crust, the grain or the nut, whatever ingredient you want to use to mix up and around, see my Brother – I AM BROWN.

8. Are we not more than a F.O.B. Immigrants from the islands in search of a J.O.B. Are we not more than the eye can see. Can we not move mountains from A to point B? Are we not more than the S from the first 15. Are we not more than gamblers at a poker machine? Are we not more than – than gems and golden teeth, are we not more than – than our (Gamers) at the T.A.B., are we not capable of attaining a Bachelors, a Masters or a P.H.D., Brown Brother – look at me.

9. You will go places, you will tell stories, so do not feel alone for your God, your family and your home will forever be inside the marrow of your bones so do not fret. Do not regret. Cause where ever you go, you take us with you. Brown Brother do not be afraid to be the first; the first to graduate, the first to climb, the first Prime Minister or the first good wife, Brown Brother. Do not be afraid to be the change, not a change in skin tone or color but a change in mind set, from one Brown Brother to another.

10. 3)On Looking into Chapman's Homer 18th July

11. Poetry and Art meet in the Red Zone These fabulous sculptures are part of an exhibition here in Christchurch by internationally-renowned New Zealand artist Michael Parekowhai. Traffic along Madras Street on the eastern edge of the city’s red zone will be unable to miss seeing them.The exhibition is called On Looking into Chapman's Homer. It's a long time since I studied Keats in Stage 2 Romantic Poetry and even longer since I was in 4th Form English at Christchurch Girls' High studying Ozymandias by Shelley! http://www.ccc.govt.nz/thecouncil/newsmedia/mediareleases/2012/201206274.aspx

13. On Looking into Chapman's Homer by John Keats Much have I travell'd in the realms of gold, And many goodly states and kingdoms seen; Round many western islands have I been Which bards in fealty to Apollo hold. Oft of one wide expanse had I been told That deep-brow'd Homer ruled as his demesne; Yet did I never breathe its pure serene Till I heard Chapman speak out loud and bold: Then felt I like some watcher of the skies When a new planet swims into his ken; Or like stout Cortez when with eagle eyes He star'd at the Pacific--and all his men Look'd at each other with a wild surmise-- Silent, upon a peak in Darien.

14. For my Husband Bill Every Autumn for as long as I can remember, my husband has quoted the first few lines of this poem. As we have been married for a long time I have heard these lines quite a few times. It also signals how we (not the Royal "we") but our family or others might mark off the year. Apart from family birthdays, wedding anniversary, schoolholidays, Show Day ( Canterbury Anniversay Day) Easter etc, in our house we have also have other markers. 1st August-Horses' Birthday and First day of Spring. Shortest day of the year -time to prune the grapevine and plant the garlic, longest day - pick garlic... But back to the poem.

15. 4)Ode to Autumn by John Keats 19th July Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness! Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun; Conspiring with him how to load and bless With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eaves run; To bend with apples the mossed cottage-trees, And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core; To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells With a sweet kernel; to set budding more, And still more, later flowers for the bees, Until they think warm days will never cease, For Summer has o'erbrimmed their clammy cells.

16. Who hath not seen thee oft amid thy store? Sometimes whoever seeks abroad may find Thee sitting careless on a granary floor, Thy hair soft-lifted by the winnowing wind; Or on a half-reaped furrow sound asleep, Drowsed with the fume of poppies, while thy hook Spares the next swath and all its twined flowers; And sometimes like a gleaner thou dost keep Steady thy laden head across a brook; Or by a cider-press, with patient look, Thou watchest the last oozings, hours by hours.

17. Where are the songs of Spring? Ay, where are they? Think not of them, thou hast thy music too, - While barred clouds bloom the soft-dying day And touch the stubble-plains with rosy hue; Then in a wailful choir the small gnats mourn Among the river sallows, borne aloft Or sinking as the light wind lives or dies; And full-grown lambs loud bleat from hilly bourn; Hedge-crickets sing, and now with treble soft The redbreast whistles from a garden-croft; And gathering swallows twitter in the skies.

18. For a Friend My friend Anne and I have been friends for 43 years. We met in Geography class at Christchurch Girls' High School when we were 15yrs old. I didn't like her at first. Obviously I changed my mind because she was one of my bridesmaids and we are still friends after all this time. It was her birthday on June 8th and I forgot. Sorry Anne, but this poem is for you. I learnt this poem in the 4th Form at Girls' High.I loved the title. So mysterious and the syllables roll off your tongue. I remember thinking of this poem on the day the Americans invaded Iraq and toppled the statue of Saddam Hussein.

19. 5) Ozymandias by Percy Bysshe Shelley 20th July I met a traveler from an antique land Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone Stand in the desert. Near them, on the sand, Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown, And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command, Tell that its sculptor well those passions read Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things, The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed; And on the pedestal these words appear: “My name is Ozymandias, king of kings: Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!” Nothing beside remains. Round the decay Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare The lone and level sands stretch far away.

20. On travelling to Dunedin This weekend I travelled to Dunedin to see my son play rugby, to catch up with friends and to drink coffee in another new cafe. One of the great aspects of visiting Dunedin is going to new places to drink coffee with friends and admire those wonderful old stone buildings, now "no longer available" in Christchurch! While there I decided to go to the University bookshop and try to find NZ poet Cilla McQueen's newly published book, The Radio Room. However, I then had to choose between that and Small Holes in the Silence, Hone Tuwhare, Collected Works.

21. A Few Lines " A poem is a ripple of words on water wind-buffeted" from Wind Song and Rain in Sap-wood and Milk Published by Godwit "A poet has a word bag on his back. He reaches in and gets a word, if it's not right he puts it back and gets another one" Hone Tuwhare - school visit to Linwood High School, 1988.

22. 6) Rain by Hone Tuwhare 22nd July Rain I can hear you making small holes in the silence rain If I were deaf the pores of my skin would open to you and shut And I should know you by the lick of you if I were blind the something special smell of you when the sun cakes the ground

23. the steady drum-roll sound you make when the wind drops But if I should not hear smell or feel or see you you would still define me disperse me wash over me rain Hone Tuwhare

25. Driving through Ashburton at dawn Over the past few years I have driven South from Christchurch on many occasions. Lake Hood in Ashburton, Tekapo and Twizel in the Mackenzie country,Oamaru and Dunedin. Many of these trips were for sporting events;rowing and rugby, as well as various confernces and eLearning Days. Often I would be travelling early in the morning to drive the three or four hours. Often I would be travelling through rural Canterbury just before dawn and see hundreds of cows makng their way to the miking sheds, the only light in the dark paddock.

26. 7) Milking Before Dawn - Ruth Dallas In the drifting rain the cows in the yard are as black And wet and shiny as rock in an ebbing tide; But they smell of the soil, as leaves lying under trees Smell of the soil, damp and steaming, warm. The shed is an island of light and warmth, the night Was water-cold and starless out in the paddock. Crouched on the stool, hearing only the beat The monotonous beat and hiss of smooth machines, The choking gasp of the cups and rattle of hooves,

27. How easy to fall asleep again, to think Of the man in the city asleep; he does not feel The night encircle him, the grasp of mud. But now the hills in the east return, are soft And grey with mist, the night recedes, and the rain. The earth as it turns towards the sun is young Again, renewed, its history wiped away Like the tears of a child. Can the earth be young again And not the heart? Let the man in the city sleep. Ruth Dallas 1953

28. This student poster along with the poem is on the back wall of my classroom.

29. 8) Funeral Blues Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone, Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone, Silence the pianos and with muffled drum Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come. Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead, Put crêpe bows round the white necks of the public doves, Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.

30. He was my North, my South, my East and West, My working week and my Sunday rest, My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song; I thought that love would last for ever: I was wrong. The stars are not wanted now: put out every one; Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun; Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood. For nothing now can ever come to any good. W.H.Auden

31. A Poem for Alex and others deciding on their path in life. Currently my Year 10, 11 and 12 students are making their subject choices for next year. The world is changing so quickly that jobs that had appeal when you thought about them in year 10 may not exist when you finally finish High School. Sometimes, our plan A doesn't work out, but that's ok-there are still 25 letters left! (Robert Frost 1874-1963 written 1920) http://www.poemhunter.com/robert-frost/biography/

32. 9)The Road Not Taken by Robert Frost Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, And sorry I could not travel both And be one traveler, long I stood And looked down one as far as I could To where it bent in the undergrowth; Then took the other, as just as fair, And having perhaps the better claim Because it was grassy and wanted wear, Though as for that the passing there Had worn them really about the same,

33. And both that morning equally lay In leaves no step had trodden black. Oh, I marked the first for another day! Yet knowing how way leads on to way I doubted if I should ever come back. I shall be telling this with a sigh Somewhere ages and ages hence: Two roads diverged in a wood, and I, I took the one less traveled by, And that has made all the difference.

34. 10) I Give you my Heart Phew! No 10 Poem found at the Hairdressers! Reading a magazine I came across this this poem by e.e.cummings.

37. And to continue the Romantic theme... Sonnet 43 by Elizabeth Barrett Browning has a link to the movie "10 things I hate about you" starrring Julia Stiles and the late Heath Ledger. My Year 10 class is studying it at the moment. And that links nicely to Sonnet 18 by Shakespeare.

38. 11) Sonnet 43 - Elizabeth Barrett Browning How do I love thee? Let me count the ways. I love thee to the depth and breadth and height My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight For the ends of Being and ideal Grace. I love thee to the level of everyday's Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light. I love thee freely, as men strive for Right; I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise. I love thee with the passion put to use In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith. I love thee with a love I seemed to lose With my lost saints,—I love thee with the breath, Smiles, tears, of all my life!—and, if God choose, I shall but love thee better after death.

39. 12)Sonnet 18 by William Shakespeare Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate: Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May, And summer's lease hath all too short a date: Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines, And often is his gold complexion dimmed, And every fair from fair sometime declines, By chance, or nature's changing course untrimmed: But thy eternal summer shall not fade, Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow'st, Nor shall death brag thou wander'st in his shade, When in eternal lines to time thou grow'st, So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see, So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.

40. Sons and Fathers I have been thinking about sons and fathers. This weekend we travel back down to Dunedin to see one of our sons. We will watch him play rugby, shout him dinner, buy groceries for his flat, then the next morning wave him goodbye and drive four and a half hours home. The challenge of our children getting older is that we are also getting older, although we still think we are so much younger. In the movie "The World's Fastest India" about New Zealander Burt Munroe he says "This skin might be saggy on the outside but inside I'm only 18". So true! by However, there are now times that we realise our children view us differently.

42. 13) My Father began as a God by Ian Moodie My father began as a god, full of heroic tales of days when he was young. His laws were as immutable as if brought down from Sinai, which indeed he thought they were He fearlessly lifted to me to heaven by a mere swing to his shoulder, and made me a godling by seating me astride our milch-cow's back, and, too upon the great white gobbler of which others went in constant fear.

43. Strange then how he shrank and shrank until by my time of adolescence he had become a foolish small old man with silly and outmoded views of life and of morality Stranger still that as I became older his faults and his intolerances scaled away into the past, revealing virtues such as honesty, generosity, integrity

44. Strangest of all how the deeper he recedes into the grave the more I see myself as just one more of all the little men who creep through life not knee-high to this long-dead god. by Ian Mudie http://adb.anu.edu.au/biography/mudie-ian-mayelston-11192 http://allpoetry.com/poem/8522217-Snake-by-Ian_Mudie

45. Not actually a poem! Thanks to Marbecks Cafe Dunedin

46. 14) Coffee Honoré de Balzac “This coffee falls into your stomach, and straightway there is a general commotion. Ideas begin to move like the battalions of the Grand Army of the battlefield, and the battle takes place. Things remembered arrive at full gallop, ensuing to the wind. The light cavalry of comparisons deliver a magnificent deploying charge, the artillery of logic hurry up with their train and ammunition, the shafts of with start up like sharpshooters. Similes arise, the paper is covered with ink; for the struggle commences and is concluded with torrents of black water, just as a battle with powder.” http://www.espressocoffeeguide.com/2010/10/coffee-quotes-of-honore-de-balzac/

47. Proud to be a NZer! Does it get any better than watching NZ ers winning Gold at the London Olympics. I have just watched fabulous rowing with 3 Gold medals. Go Kiwi's! And it is equally as fantastic to hear the NZ National anthem being played. Poem 15 is Haka by Apirana Taylor. I think he expresses the feeling we all get when we see the haka performed with passion, pride and power.

48. NZ National Anthem E Ihowā Atua, O ngā iwi mātou rā Āta whakarangona; Me aroha noa Kia hua ko te pai; Kia tau tō atawhai; Manaakitia mai Aotearoa

49. 15) Haka by Apirana Taylor

50. For Fallen NZ Soldiers killed in Afghanistan 5th August 16) Six Young Men by Ted Hughes Six Young Men The celluloid of a photograph holds them well - Six young men, familiar to their friends. Four decades that have faded and ochre-tinged This photograph have not wrinkled the faces or the hands. Though their cocked hats are not now fashionable, Their shoes shine. One imparts an intimate smile, One chews a grass, one lowers his eyes, bashful, One is ridiculous with cocky pride - Six months after this picture they were all dead. All are trimmed for a Sunday jaunt. I know That bilberried bank, that thick tree, that black wall, Which are there yet and not changed. From where these sit You hear the water of seven streams fall To the roarer in the bottom, and through all The leafy valley a rumouring of air go.