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Archive for the ‘Wordsworth the Poet’ Category

one daffodil

It wasn’t a host of golden daffodils

Not even one thousand,

But I did gaze – and gazed –

My heart did with pleasure fills

It was only one, the first of spring –

And I did wander lonely as a cloud.

A poet could not but be gay.

In daffodils, one or ten thousand.

 

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Hey Frances, you forgot my frontal view.

I’m going to Hawaii soon to visit their classrooms so schools in Sacramento, let me know if you’d like a visit; I’ll have you writing poems in ten minutes.

ww-front

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wws-visit

Look who paid me a visit during the holidays. Yes, Wordsworth of my four children’s books of Wordsworth the little mouse poet who makes a difference with his poetic voice. But more than his visit, I heard this today. Remember Janet, the autistic woman who is finding such comfort in Wordsworth? Last night, her family found her reading the poem on thunderstorms from my book,Wordsworth the Poet. Janet is extremely afraid of thunder but last night, she fell asleep with the book in her hands. Thank you, Wordsworth!

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A  Plea

They call me ugly.

They call me names.

But I don’t cry.

I feel nothing.

They call me ugly.

They call me names.

I feel sad.

I feel mad.

But I don’t cry.

I feel scared,

Oh so scared

Of thunder and lightning

But I don’t cry.

I feel different.

So please stop.

That’s not nice.

Don’t be mean.

I have muscles.

And I don’t cry.

I feel nothing.

By Mr. Kramer’s and Mrs. Williams’ classes

The students, ages 18-22,  all won my heart.I had the honor of visiting two classrooms of students who live with Autism.It all began with my children’s book Wordsworth the Poet.Janet, one of the  students with autism,  found so much comfort and joy with Wordsworth, that she and her family invited me to read Wordsworth the Poet to her classmates. Wordsworth is a little mouse poet and that is the cause of his problem. People make fun of him and call him different. But he continues to be a poet and at the end, his family, friends and villagers accept him for who he is.

“They still cannot understand why Wordsworth is what he is. They still cannot understand

how Wordsworth can feel and see so many things. But they no longer worry about him or make fun of him. Now they look at Wordsworth and say, “Wordsworth is a poet.”

Excerpt from Wordsworth the Poet

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You want me to read this story about a mouse poet? You must be kidding!

jr-1

Hmmmm…not bad for a mouse.. . although I think my poetry’s better.

jr-2

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