Writers in the Schools, Houston, Poems on my Facebook page, and an Amazing Poem by a 3rd grader

Friends, Poetry month is in full swing--a great occasion for us to nurture our inner poet.
In honor of the occasion, I'm putting up lines from my favorite poets on my Facebook page, http://www.facebook.com/chitradivakaruni, and inviting readers to do the same. Some we have so far: Milton, Tagore, Akhmatova, Wu Men, Wordsworth, Robert Burns, Frost, Swinburne, Emerson, Maya Angelou. Please come by and add yours.

Today I was sent a poem by Writers in the Schools (WITS). This is a great Houston organizationpromoting creativity and literacy in Houston Area schools. I've blogged about them before. (Many of our University of Houston Creative Writing graduate students teach for them.) They sent me this poem -- by a 3rd grader!! I certainly wasn't putting together work like this in 3rd grade--were you? Congratulations, Camille--and kudos to WITS! If you like the poem, please post a comment for our young writer below. And check out WITS at http://www.witshouston.org/.


The cage was covered in an
elegant cloth,
with a practical bird
The sign was actually a
with a person fleeing
in the forest.
To the villagers this was
common, as ordinary
as can be.
A miracle was
necessary, to have
a success.
A sound reflected
in the silence
from the shallow
a ripple
made a gentle
an equal to the world's
finest picture,
the freshness of justice
and the evergreen
scent of nature.
Fire never wanted
a truce with water
but thought it was
foolish otherwise.
Oh, the wonders!

by Camille, 3rd grade 

To Celebrate National Poetry Month. . .

Here are some poems by the Zen master Ryokan, one of my favorites:

How can we ever lose interest inlife?
Spring has come again
And cherry trees bloom in the mountains.


I came to this village to see the peach blossoms
but spent the day instead
Looking at the flowers along the river bank.


O that my priest's robe were wide enough
to gather up all the suffering people
in this floating world.


Finshing a day of begging
I return home through the green mountains.
The setting sun is hidden behind the western cliffs
And the moon shines weakly on the streams below.
I stop by a rock and wash my feet.
Lighting some incense, I sit peacefully in zazen,
Again, a one-man brotherhood of monks. . .  .

When I read his poems, I want to go live in a hermitage.

Please share some of your favorite poems with me.