(Blue Bottle in my kitchen window) Lia Waldrum is a 5th grader at Cullowhee Valley School. The title of her poem asks, "What Is Blue?" She answers with a run of images that are a delight to read and visualize. Any of these lines could be the first line of a new poem, don't you think?
WHAT IS BLUE?
Blue is the sky on a winter evening.
Blue is a cut of sapphire sparkling on a ring.
Blue is slow and tired.
Blue is the ocean where the turtle glides.
Blue is the night, bright with glittery stars.
Blue is a mountain peeking up at the sky.
Blue is the little butterflies that flutter in the Spring.
Blue is a marker sliding silently on the board.
Blue is a leather belt.
Blue is a beautiful bead on an Indian vest.
Blue is a pair of jeans, cozy and worn.
Blue is a Spring nightgown.
Blue is a child's stuffed animal.
Blue is the wild wind whipping around the house.
Blue are the little curtains in the parlor.
Blue are the shutters on a window.
Blue is an icicle--drip, drip, dripping.
Blue is a tasty blueberry.
Blue is a humpback whale, yawning in the deep.
Blue is the sugar icing on a cake.
Blue is the wrapping on a birthday present.
Blue is paint on a wall.
Blue is a blank TV screen.
Blue is nail polish.
Blue is holding your breath too long.
Blue is a stained glass picture.
Blue are the lines on notebook paper.
Blue is a pioneer bonnet.
Blue is a carefully knitted scarf.
Blue is a sucker.
And blue is a parakeet.
by Lia Waldrum
5th Grade
Cullowhee Valley School
Lia's parents are Joe and Nelia Waldrum in Sylva, North Carolina.
Thank you, Lia. Each line contains a memory, not only for you but for us. We are so bombarded with images and sounds today that we almost lose the ability to see and hear things. Thanks for re-awakening our senses.
ReplyDeleteKay,
ReplyDeleteI love this poem. Lia has done a fine job writing this image poem.
Bill, you are absolutely right about the bombardment of the senses these days. That's why poetry is so important. We must slow down and let the poem reawaken us! Thank you, Brenda Kay. I think we "old timers" could learn, or rather be "reawakened" by Lia's poem and the reminder of how the bedrock of our imaginations are images and language.
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