The Mortimer Minute - My Turn with the Children's Poetry Blog Hop!

It's my turn to answer questions for The Mortimer Minute, the current Children's Poetry Blog Hop. Renee La Tulippe took The Hop last week and tagged me for The Hop today, and I'm tagging poet Diane Mayr for next week (see below.)

Right now, I have to take care of this charming bunny who keeps asking me questions.  Mortimer is sweet, but he's a twitchy guy. I think his whiskers make him curious. That's my theory, anyway (I am curious about where curiosity comes from....) All Mortimer knows is hopping, eating, twitching and poking his nose into interesting places.

[Hmmm. I've had some temporary formatting problems - sorry - a poem by Yeats seems to be haunting Mortimer's first question and ..well, I have no idea why it's there!!! If you see it, try clicking on just the title of this post (not The Drift Record in general) and that will take you to a clean copy of it, minus the ghost of Yeats. Yeats is tricky, you know.  Hard to master him. ]

Here are the rules for The Hop: 

• Answer three short questions, one of them taken from the previous Mortimer Minute.
• Invite another blogger (or two or three) to take part on the following week - writers, teachers, or anyone who loves children's poetry is the perfect choice.
• Link to the previous Mortimer Minute and to your choice for next week. 

That's it. Now let's take care of the curious bunny.

Question #1 (multiple parts):
M: Do you eat grass?
JL: No.
M: Carrots?
JL: Yes.
M: Lettuce?
JL: Yes.
M: Rabbits? (shuddering)
JL: Oh-oh. Well, not often. And never a snuggly one.

Question #2: 
M: Look at me - I am very cute. Why don't you have whiskers? Why don't you have sunshine coming through your ears?
JL: Oh, I have some whiskers - don't look too close! They are cuter on a bunny than they are on me. As for my ears, my grandson will tell you that if you put a little flashlight up behind my ear lobe, light comes through it and makes it shine. Believe me, he and I have tried it many, many, many, many times and it always works and it always gets a laugh.

Question #3:
M: What children's poem do you wish you had written?
JL: Oh, that's a hard one. There are so many! I love "Bell" by Valerie Worth, because I think it describes just exactly what a poet does. And I love "The Stolen Child" by W.B. Yeats, because it's the kind of poem that makes a child fall in love with poetry - it's haunting and hypnotic. But if I could only choose one, it would be this one by John Masefield:

SEA FEVER

I must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky,
And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by;
And the wheel's kick and the wind's song and the white sail's shaking,
And a grey mist on the sea's face, and a grey dawn breaking.

I must go down to the seas again, for the call of the running tide
Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied;
And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying,
And the flung spray and the blown spume, and the sea-gulls crying.

I must go down to the seas again, to the vagrant gypsy life,
To the gull's way and the whale's way where the wind's like a whetted knife;
And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow-rover,
And quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick's over.

Mortimer:
Yeah. Nice.
---------------------------------------------------------

The Mortimer Minute/Children's Blog Hop moves next week to Diane Mayr's Random Noodling. 

You will like Diane, Mortimer - she's curious, too, and she really does have whiskers...

...though I think they are kitty whiskers (as in Diane's other blog, Kurious Kitty's Kurio Kabinet.)

By the way, Mortimer....

Mortimer? 

 

Mortimer is on his way to do some random noodling around....(and I think I need to write a poem about sunshine coming through the ears of a rabbit.)

POETRY FRIDAY: It's October: Time for Yeats

The other day poet Renee LaTulippe asked fellow bloggers on Facebook to suggest scary poems that she might perform for her site, No Water River, as Halloween approaches. Many good poems were suggested - though the best were probably too long (Edgar Allen Poe) for the video she had in mind. I suggested "Goblin Market" by Christina Rossetti - too long, yes, but it starts so well and gets so creepy! Just this morning, I remembered Yeats's "The Stolen Child" which gives me goosebumps every time I read it. I think it's too late to suggest it to Renee, but I do think it's unnerving. Scary? Well, it scares me! Especially because the fairies who steal this child don't just steal the child, but they convince him or her to leave the world behind because it is "more full of weeping" than can be understood. The poem worries me, it scares me, haunts me, breaks my heart. Oh, to write a poem like this, but for a modern child....that would be a challenge!

THE STOLEN CHILD

 WHERE dips the rocky highland
Of Sleuth Wood in the lake,
There lies a leafy island
Where flapping herons wake
The drowsy water rats;
There we've hid our faery vats,
Full of berrys
And of reddest stolen cherries.
Come away, O human child!
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand.

Where the wave of moonlight glosses
The dim gray sands with light,
Far off by furthest Rosses
We foot it all the night,
Weaving olden dances
Mingling hands and mingling glances
Till the moon has taken flight;
To and fro we leap
And chase the frothy bubbles,
While the world is full of troubles
And anxious in its sleep.
Come away, O human child!
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand.

Where the wandering water gushes
From the hills above Glen-Car,
In pools among the rushes
That scarce could bathe a star,
We seek for slumbering trout
And whispering in their ears
Give them unquiet dreams;
Leaning softly out
From ferns that drop their tears
Over the young streams.
Come away, O human child!
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand.

Away with us he's going,
The solemn-eyed:
He'll hear no more the lowing
Of the calves on the warm hillside
Or the kettle on the hob
Sing peace into his breast,
Or see the brown mice bob
Round and round the oatmeal chest.
For he comes, the human child,
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
For the world's more full of weeping than he can understand.

Where dips the rocky highland Of Sleuth Wood in the lake, There lies a leafy island Where flapping herons wake The drowsy water rats; There we've hid our faery vats, Full of berrys And of reddest stolen cherries. Come away, O human child! To the waters and the wild With a faery, hand in hand, For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand. Where the wave of moonlight glosses The dim gray sands with light, Far off by furthest Rosses We foot it all the night, Weaving olden dances Mingling hands and mingling glances Till the moon has taken flight; To and fro we leap And chase the frothy bubbles, While the world is full of troubles And anxious in its sleep. Come away, O human child! To the waters and the wild With a faery, hand in hand, For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand. Where the wandering water gushes From the hills above Glen-Car, In pools among the rushes That scarce could bathe a star, We seek for slumbering trout And whispering in their ears Give them unquiet dreams; Leaning softly out From ferns that drop their tears Over the young streams. Come away, O human child! To the waters and the wild With a faery, hand in hand, For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand. Away with us he's going, The solemn-eyed: He'll hear no more the lowing Of the calves on the warm hillside Or the kettle on the hob Sing peace into his breast, Or see the brown mice bob Round and round the oatmeal chest. For he comes, the human child, To the waters and the wild With a faery, hand in hand, For the world's more full of weeping than he can understand. - See more at: http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/19415#sthash.xLQAB7Ox.dpuf

Where dips the rocky highland Of Sleuth Wood in the lake, There lies a leafy island Where flapping herons wake The drowsy water rats; There we've hid our faery vats, Full of berrys And of reddest stolen cherries. Come away, O human child! To the waters and the wild With a faery, hand in hand, For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand. Where the wave of moonlight glosses The dim gray sands with light, Far off by furthest Rosses We foot it all the night, Weaving olden dances Mingling hands and mingling glances Till the moon has taken flight; To and fro we leap And chase the frothy bubbles, While the world is full of troubles And anxious in its sleep. Come away, O human child! To the waters and the wild With a faery, hand in hand, For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand. Where the wandering water gushes From the hills above Glen-Car, In pools among the rushes That scarce could bathe a star, We seek for slumbering trout And whispering in their ears Give them unquiet dreams; Leaning softly out From ferns that drop their tears Over the young streams. Come away, O human child! To the waters and the wild With a faery, hand in hand, For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand. Away with us he's going, The solemn-eyed: He'll hear no more the lowing Of the calves on the warm hillside Or the kettle on the hob Sing peace into his breast, Or see the brown mice bob Round and round the oatmeal chest. For he comes, the human child, To the waters and the wild With a faery, hand in hand, For the world's more full of weeping than he can understand. - See more at: http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/19415#sthash.xLQAB7Ox.dpuf

 Here's a link to a beautiful musical rendition of the poem by Loreena McKennitt.

 The Poetry Friday Round-up is hosted today by Dori at DORI READS. Head over there to see what other people have posted.