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Posts Tagged ‘Wordsworth the Poet’

To Wordsworth the Poet fans, please check him out at his own FB page. He’s complaining that no one goes there much. In today’s post, he is complaining how he was not flown first class from Sacramento to Honolulu to Hilo. He also explains how he was created. He’s getting pretty verbal, now that he’s so well-sought by his fans in Hawaii. Do you know Maui has now invited him over to visit their schools to teach them about Alzheimer’s and memory loss?  No, I was not invited.

https://www.facebook.com/WordsworthThePoet?fref=ts

 

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4 WordsworthBooks

My little mouse poet Wordsworth and I will be at Barnes & Noble at Arden Fair, Sacramento on December 9th, at 11 a.m. Come meet Wordsworth and bring  your children ages  1 to 90.

Wordsworth the Poet: Poor Wordsworth, everyone worries or makes fun of him because he is different by being a poet. One day his poetry saves his whole village.

Wordsworth Dances the Waltz: Wordsworth teaches the adults that his Grandma is still a Grandma even if she is losing her memory.

Wordsworth! Stop the Bulldozer:  The trees are being destroyed. Can Wordsworth and his friends use their poetry to save these trees? See how a group of children become empowered through writing, to make a difference.

Wordsworth, It’s in Your Pocket: Poor Wordsworth, all his friends are addicted to electronic games. Can he bring them back again to ocean waves and human conversations and true human friendship? An old mouse tells him the answer is in his pocket.

 

 

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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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Hey Wordsworth the Poet, know what’s missing in this book? A cat. We can be friends, you know. I write poems, too.

Yours truly,
Junior the Cat

wordsworthcat

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June with WW books

Wordsworth Inspires New Autistic Friend

Janet, age 20, who lives with autism met  Wordsworth the Poet.She now reads Wordsworth  every night, beginning with my inscriptions. Her family hears her voice as she reads the books ,  word by word.  Her sister who serves me coffee in a coffee shop described the joy on June’s face when she reads Wordsworth.

Janet  said, “I like Wordsworth because the stories are happy stories. A lot of books are not happy books.”

Thank you, Janet, and your family for allowing me to share your friendship with Wordsworth on my blog and FB. Wordsworth just nudged me with a message to you, June.  “Write some poems, Janet,  and send them to me.”
Wordsworth@francesk.org

 

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We turned into poets in all of my classes, grades K-6 during my teaching career. Robert Webster was a sixth grader at Nimitz Elem in Hawaii. One day, I watched him write the last line to a poem. Beads of perspiration rolled down his nose. He dropped his pen and I heard him whisper, “ I’m all poemed out.”

Here’s an excerpt from one of his poems.

“Writing is wonderful.

It is a thing that can make the dumb speak,

The deaf to hear, and the blind to see.

Writing can bring out true emotions

That we usually don’t see,

And it brings out our true selves…”

The rest of this poem appears in my book, Teacher, You Look Like a Horse. Robert helped to write the last chapter with a few other students. They were all adults then, but still listened to their teacher when I asked them for help.  Robert never left. After sixth grade, he stayed in touch through high school and college and now as a father to three sons with wife Erica.

I have lunched with Robert and his family in New York City twice and the poetry man is still there. How wonderful to have a poetry man for a dad.

Here are three poems from the next generation of Websters, written by son Samuel when he was eight years old.

 

Me and My Cat

Tommy loves it

When I scratch him under

His chin.

You can sleep in my bed,

Tommy.

Do you want to read with me,

Tommy?

Now this is relaxing!

 

 

Sunny Day

Today I woke up

On a sunny day.

I went to my friend’s house

On that sunny day.

I played throw and catch

At my friend’s house

Until it was dark

On that sunny day.

 

 

Monkey

Crazy, cute

Running, climbing, swinging

Eating, jumping, sleeping

Bananas, trees, vines

Hairy, agile

 

©Samuel Charles Webster

8 years old

Guilderland, New York

 

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Wordsworth continues to smile

I walked into the office of my new dentist last year in Sacramento and imagine my surprise to see Shelly at the front desk. We last saw each other when she was about five. Her mother , my cousin’s wife, brought her to my first book  signing in Hilo, HI. I remember Shelly because somewhere, there’s a photo of her, a young child,  holding a copy of my book of poems, Sand Grains. Well, guess what. Here are two poems written by her two sons. Shelly’s mom and I are claiming, “It’s the Kakugawa blood” but that’s up for debate.

 

I Am Poem

 

I am shy and quiet

I wonder what my future would be like

I hear water hitting the ground

I see giant buildings in the sky

I am shy and quiet

I pretend to fly through the sky

I feel soft clouds

I touch ripped up leaves

I worry when my brother is alone

I cry when me and my brother fight

I am shy and quiet

I understand to not use violence

I say I could pass all my obstacles

I dream when I sleep at night

I try to accomplish my goals

I hope I have a good future

I am shy and quiet.

©Lars Cabuco

15 years old

Roseville, CA

 

I Am Poem

 

I am happy and nice

I wonder what my brother is doing

I hear a monster growling

I see a flying ghost

I want a charm

I am happy and nice

I pretend to never mess up

I feel very shy

I touch a sandstone

I worry about falling behind,

I cry when I fall behind

I am happy and nice

I understand my mom is very tired

I say I can fall behind

I dream of the world’s gravity

I try to work hard

I hope I never fall behind

I am happy and nice.

 

©Bourne Rizal Cabuco

9 years old

Roseville, CA

 

 

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