A spooky tautogram:
She saw something.
Some small, slithering something
Sang soft serenades.
Surrounding sounds: snuffling, snorting.
Someone slides stealthily.
Shhh!
She’s somewhere spooky,
Sometimes scary:
Samhain.
A tautogram (Greek: taut=same, gram=letter) is a poem where all the words begin with the same letter, though not necessarily the same sound. They should be both grammatical and sensical.
| The air was crisp |
| The sky was damp |
| My brother hissed |
| Under the lamp |
| The sky was damp |
| My sister screamed |
| Under the lamp |
| Its powerful beams |
| My sister screamed |
| The monster’s eyes |
| Its powerful beams |
| Her soul it fries |
| The monster’s eyes |
| The horror grows |
| Her soul it fries |
| Its hot breath blows |
| The horror grows |
| More monsters lurk |
| Its hot breath blows |
| My brother smirks |
| More monsters lurk |
| My brother hissed |
| My brother smirks |
| The air was crisp |
This was a demo pantoum written with my class today when they were introduced to the form. It took an unexpected turn! 🙂
If you scroll to the bottom, WordPress will probably link to a couple of other pantoums written with my classes in previous years. They are entertaining.
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I toss.
You race.
You leap.
You flip.
You pant.
You return
on a joy-fueled frenzy
for the fun of the chase.
To vicariously share your bliss,
I toss.
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(Just in from a supremely athletic game of fetch- with a Chuckit Flying Squirrel. Now a happily exhausted poodle is at my feet. I once saw a Ziggy cartoon that said he just wanted to go to dog heaven and toss balls for eternity. I sometimes feel like that is already my prime raison d’etre according to Kiltti! How about you? Do you play a lot of fetch?).
White,
twisting,
writhing,
flashing.
Black,
sizzling,
scorching,
smiling.
Red,
faith,
courage,
blood.
Yellow
bright,
hopeful,
dreaming.
Blue
bubbling,
pushing,
pulsing.
Colour me
a turning rainbow
sensational
essence
life.
In our school, the chef’s training kids make ‘eggers’ in the morning. These are buns with fried egg, cheese, and a sausage patty. They are a popular fast-food breakfast fare, but I hate them. Fried eggs are nauseating to me, runny yolks make me want to vomit, the smell makes me nauseous. So, to avoid calamity, I do not allow them in my class room. Kids have to eat them outside the room. There are huge windows between room and hall, so the class can watch the egger eater outside, like a sad puppy at the glass, waiting to come in.
Today we learned about pantoum poems, and before they wrote their own, I guided a class written one. This was what A block English 11 came up with, as one student was barred and then didn’t realise the door was unlocked, so he could just walk back in when he was done eating his egger. There was lots of laughter, as we wrote it! 🙂 I love Poetry Fridays!
Egger Pantoum (A block’s)
I wanted into English class.
I wasn’t allowed in.
They laughed at me, en masse.
Eating eggers is a sin
I wasn’t allowed in;
I walked away.
Eating eggers is a sin.
What a great start to the day.
I walked away.
I wandered through the halls.
What a great start to the day,
Trapped within these walls.
I wandered through the halls.
I’m chewing very slowly
Trapped within these walls
Eating eggers, I’m unholy
I’m chewing very slowly;
Tears are streaming down my cheeks.
Eating eggers, I’m unholy,
The door won’t open for a week.
Tears are streaming down my cheeks.
They laughed at me, en masse!
The door won’t open for a week.
I wanted into English class!
Beetle black eyes
sparkling intelligence
in that black satin face
long pink tongue
hangs between canine teeth
ferociously happy.
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Shaved the puppy today. His face is nekkid but he’s extra cute! We’ve been training today. He learned 3 new tricks! He puts the toy into a lacrosse stick for me to throw it (very handy on mucky days), he’ll lie over my feet, and he stands on his back feet. This in addition to come, sit, down, back, catch, go pee. Very talented puppy. 😉
#miniaturepoodle
A jaunty hat catches eyes
inspires a smile.
A jaunty hat always tries
to beguile
but it’s too happy to seduce
its morals are not loose
That hat’s a joyful
welcome mat to fun.
The ground squirrels have been offering endless entertainment
Daily theatre of gamboling fun with whistle accompaniment.
First I saw a lady with a trap
Then all the ground squirrels were gone.
End of the play.
Critics are deadly.
I’m caught in a story
I can’t come out;
I’ll say I’m sorry.
But
I must stay and read
this day away,
Not really sorry to be
in need of story
Shawn L. Bird 