Monday's Poem: A Book Comes Knocking

A Book Comes Knocking

Someone was knocking,

knock, knock on my door.

Then, in walked a book

and sat on the floor.

"Come join me," it said,

"and open me please."

I opened its pages.

Oh! What did I see?

Page after page,

but nothing was written,

not huff, not puff,

not mitten, or kitten.

Not Goldi, not locks,

not pokey pup paws,

not tailor, not duckling,

not Potter, or Oz.

"Write me a story,"

the book sadly said.

"Help fill me all up

with words from your head.

Start Over the hill,

or A long time ago.

Start Under the oak tree

or Up where there's snow."

So I told a story,

and each word that I said,

danced straight to the page

from inside of my head.

I finished with happily

ever and after,

and you should have heard

the book and its laughter.

                                   Anne Knowles

Tuesday's Poem: With Nothing at All

With Nothing at All

I can have fun with nothing at all:

Skip, jump, or roll in a ball;

Hop, spin, or race down the hall;

Make up a story; make up a song;

Make up a cow fifty-feet long;

Make up a friend twenty-times strong;

Wonder if stars are hot or cold;

Wonder if circles like to be rolled;

Wonder if numbers do as they're told;

Duck waddle-waddle, or snail-slow crawl;

Seed sprout rise, or leaf twirly fall;

I can have fun with nothing at all.

                                        Anne Knowles