Line Breaks

1. Line Breaks Here’s what to do with “The Big Field” by Donald • Graves. Mr. Gammons mows the big field with his tractor, then rakes and bundles hay for the barn. George and I grab our bats, gloves, and balls and race across the field like major leaguers in spring training. We hit long flies to each other all afternoon, never lose a ball in the stubble, and don’t stop until Mother calls us for supper.

2. Line Breaks • The Big Field • Mr. Gammons mows the big field • with his tractor, • then rakes and bundles • hay for the barn. • George and I • grab our bats, • gloves, and balls • and race across the filed • like major leaguers • in spring training. • We hit long flies • to each other • all afternoon, • never lose a ball • in the stubble, • and don’t stop • until Mother calls • us for supper. • - Donald Graves

3. Line Breaks – click for sample

4. That Reminds Me I was sitting by a stream When I saw a grasshopper hop from a rock And land on the other side And it reminded me of how we used to jump Across the puddles in the driveway After a summer rain- Except the grasshopper didn’t get all wet- And didn’t get the giggles. I was sitting on the porch When I saw a squirrel in the weeping willow tree Vaulting through the air To anther limb And it reminded me of how we used to tie ourselves Into the lows branches of that tree And run And swing Up off the ground We were like flying squirrels I was lying on my back in the grass When I saw a maple leaf fall off a high branch And float in the wind Out past the top of my head And it reminded me of the time our kite string broke And the kite soared out over the top of the hill And we never saws it again I still think about that old kite And it reminds me of you -Will Mowery

5. Walking With My Iguana .I’m walkingwith my iguanaI’m walkingwith my iguanaWhen the temperature risesto above eighty-five,my iguana is lookinglike he’s coming alive.So we make it to the beach,my iguana and me,then he sits on my shoulderas we stroll by the sea. . .and I’m walkingwith my iguanaWell if anyone sees uswe’re a big surprise,my iguana and meon our daily exercise,till somebody phonesthe local policesays I’ve got an alligatortied to a leash.when I’m walkingwith my iguanaI’m walkingwith my iguanaIt’s the spines on his backthat make him look grim,but he just loves to be tickledunder his chin.And I know that my iguanais ready for bedwhen he puts on his pyjamasand lays down his sleepy head.And I’m walkingwith my iguanastill walkingwith my iguanaWith my iguanawith my iguanaand my piranhaand my Chihuahuaand my chinchilla,with my gorilla,my caterpillar…and I’m walking…with my iguana…with my iguana…with my iguana… • You can hear it at this website. • http://www.poetryarchive.org/poetryarchive/singlePoem.do?poemId=52

6. Pencil Sharpener • By Zoe Ryder White • I think there are a hundred bees • inside the pencil sharpener • and they buzz • and buzz • and buzz • until my point is sharp! • Ceiling • By Zoe Ryder White • The ceiling • is the sky • for the classroom

7. Bear In There by Shel Silverstein • There's a Polar BearIn our Frigidaire--He likes it 'cause it's cold in there.With his seat in the meatAnd his face in the fishAnd his big hairy pawsIn the buttery dish,He's nibbling the noodles,He's munching the rice,He's slurping the soda,He's licking the ice.And he lets out a roarIf you open the door.And it gives me a scareTo know he's in there--That Polary BearIn our Fridgitydaire.

8. The Tree On The Corner by Lilian Moore I’ve seen       the tree on the corner         in spring budand summer green.Yesterdayit was yellow gold. Then a coldwind began to blow.  Now I know – you really do not see a tree  until you seeits bones

9. Umbrellas • by Maxine W. Kumin • It’s raining in the city.I hope it rains for hours.All of the umbrellasOpen up like flowers. • Come look out my window!Polka dots in linesWag their stems andTilt to read the signs. • Plaid ones cross at cornersStriped ones wave about.It’s raining in the city; • The flowers have come out

10. Crickets, Valerie Worth Crickets Talk In the tall Grass All Late summer Long. When Summer Is gone, The dry Grass Whispers Alone.

11. Some lovely small poems by Valerie Worth: chairs ChairsSeemToSitDownOnThemselves, almost as ifThey were people,Some fat, some thin;Settled comfortablyOn their own seats,Some even stretch out their armsToRest. . sun The sunIs a leaping fireToo hotTo go near, But it will stillLie downIn warm yellow squaresOn the floor Like a flatQuilt, whereThe cat can curlAnd purr.

12. The Poem that Got Away–By Felice Holman There I was and in it came Through the fogbank of my brain From the fastness of my soul Shining like a glowing coal – The nearly perfect poem! Oh, it may have needed just An alteration here or there— A little tuck, a little seam To be exactly what I mean – The really perfect poem I’ll write it later on, I said, The idea’s clear and so’s my head. This pen I have is nearly dry. What I’ll do now is finish this pie, Then on to the perfect poem! With pen in hand quite full of ink I try not to recall. I’ve plenty of time in which to think But the poem went down the kitchen sink With the last of the perfect pie.

13. safety pin Valerie Worth Closed, it sleeps On its side Quietly, The silver Image Of some Small fish; Opened, it snaps Its tail out Like a thin Shrimp, and looks At the sharp Point with a Surprised eye

14. DANDELION - by Valerie Worth Out of Green space, A sun: Bright for A day, burning Away to A husk, a Cratered moon: Burst In a week To dust: Seeding The infinitie Lawn with Its starry Smithereens.

15. Spring SeedsBy: Douglas FlorianSpring SeedsWe tilled the earth,Took out the weeds,Then in the soilPlanted seeds:Pumpkin,Parsely,Carrot,Pea,Spring succeeds ex-seed-ing-ly.

16. Baseball Cards #1 • BY JIM DANIELS • Oneof the 10,342 baseball cards in my parents’ atticsneezes in the dampness, rememberssweaty hands. • He calls to me across hundreds of miles: • Remember me, Jake Wood, 1964, 2nd base, Detroit Tigers,Series 2, No. 272? • He wants to stretch his legs, climb outfrom between Wilbur Wood and the 4th Series Checklistwants to outsail all the other cardsin a game of farthies, float downon Jose Tartabull in a game of tops.He wants to smell like fresh from the packwants to be perfumed againwith the pink smell of bubble gum.

17. October Saturday All the leaves have turned to cornflakes. It looks as if some giant’s baby brother had tipped the box and scattered them upon our lawn- millions and millions of cornflakes- crunching, crunching under our feet. When the wind blows, they rattle against each other, nervously chattering. We rake them into piles- Dad and I. Piles and piles of cornflakes! A breakfast for a whole family of giants! We do not talk much as we rake- A word here- A word there. The leaves are never silent. Inside the house my mother is packing Short sleeved shirts and faded bathing suits- Rubber clogs and flippers- In a box marked SUMMER. We are raking Dad and I. Bobbi Ka

18. Inside My Heart by Zoe Ryder White Inside my heart lives one birthday party two jazz bands three wrestling puppies four dancing birds five laughing babies six blasting spaceships seven lucky fireflies and a sky full of stars

19. Falling Leaves • by Jack Prelutsky • Little leaves fall softly downRed and yellow, orange and brownWhirling, twirling round and roundFalling softly to the ground • Little leaves fall softly downTo make a carpet on the ground.Then, swish, the wind comes whistling byAnd sends them dancing to the sky.

20. When the Roses Revolted When the Roses Revolted The roses were fed up. They were sick sicksick of being symbols for love. One night they revolted, crept out of flower shops, jumped out of windows and touched the dirt! They spent that night drinking real night air, carousing with clover, boogying with bluebells, dancing with dandelions, and in this way they rediscovered their roots. ~ Ralph Fletcher

21. Fog by Carl Sandburg The fog comes on little cat feet. It sits looking over harbor and city on silent haunches and then moves on.

22. Some one by Walter De la Mare. Some one came knockingAt my wee, small door;Someone came knocking;I'm sure-sure-sure;I listened, I opened,I looked to left and right,But nought there was a stirringIn the still dark night;Only the busy beetleTap-tapping in the wall,Only from the forestThe screech-owl's call,Only the cricket whistlingWhile the dewdrops fall,So I know not who came knocking,At all, at all, at all.

23. DREAMS by Langston Hughes Hold fast to dreams For if dreams die Life is a broken-winged bird That cannot fly. Hold fast to dreams For when dreams go Life is a barren field Frozen with snow.

24. The Tree On The Corner by Lilian Moore I’ve seen       the tree on the corner         in spring budand summer green.Yesterdayit was yellow gold. Then a coldwind began to blow.  Now I know – you really do not see a tree  until you seeits bones. 

25. PAPER CLIPS By Rebecca Kai Dotlich With tiny teeth of tin they take one slender breath before they make a move, and then --- a silver pinch! With jaws no bigger than an inch these dragon grips are small and slight --- but conquer pages with one bite!

26. Foghorns by Langston Hughes The foghorns moaned          in the bay last night   so sad           so deepI thought I heard the city          crying in its sleep

27. City In the morning the city Spreads its wings Making a song In stone that sings. In the evening the city Goes to bed Hanging lights About its head. Langston Hughes

28. April Rain Song BY LANGSTON HUGHES Let the rain kiss you. Let the rain beat upon your head with silver liquid drops. Let the rain sing you a lullaby. The rain makes still pools on the sidewalk. The rain makes running pools in the gutter. The rain plays a little sleep-song on our roof at night— And I love the rain.

29. Who has seen the wind Who has seen the wind? Neither I nor you; But when the leaves hang trembling The wind is passing through. Who has seen the wind? Neither you nor I; But when the trees bow down their heads The wind is passing by.

30. My Baby BrotherMy baby brother is so small,he hasn't even learned to crawl.He's only been around a week,and all he seems to do is bawland wiggle, sleep . . . and leak.

31. Hold Fast to Dream by Langston Hughes Hold fast to dreams,For if dreams dieLife is a broken-winged birdThat cannot fly.Hold fast to dreams,For when dreams goLife is a barren fieldFrozen with snow.

32. City Child by Lois Lenski The sidewalk is my yard, The lampost is my tree. Up three long flights of stairs, My home is Flat 4C.

33. THIS TOOTH\ • by Lee Bennett HopkinsI jiggled itjaggled itjerked it.I pushedand pulledand poked it.But--As soon as I stoppedand left it alone,This tooth came outon its very own!

34. In Autumn Fannie Montgomery They're coming down in showers,The leaves all gold and red;They're covering the little flowers,And tucking them in bed.They've spread a fairy carpetAll up and down the street;And when we skip along to school,They rustle 'neath our feet.

35. Closing Day ThoughtI wonder if our schoolbooksare lonely all the dayWhile through the long vacationin cupboards put away? I wonder if the blackboardseems rather out of placeWithout a single piece of chalkto mark upon its face? I wonder if the schoolroomis sometimes lonely, tooWhile standing bare and emptywithout a thing to do? But this we can assure them.When summer days all fleeWe'll join them in Septemberand keep them company.-Leland B. Jacobs

36. Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening BY ROBERT FROSTWhose woods these are I think I know.    His house is in the village though;    He will not see me stopping here    To watch his woods fill up with snow.    My little horse must think it queer    To stop without a farmhouse near    Between the woods and frozen lake    The darkest evening of the year.    He gives his harness bells a shake    To ask if there is some mistake.    The only other sound’s the sweep    Of easy wind and downy flake.    The woods are lovely, dark and deep.    But I have promises to keep,    And miles to go before I sleep,    And miles to go before I sleep.

37. The Road Not Taken • Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,And sorry I could not travel bothAnd be one traveler, long I stoodAnd looked down one as far as I couldTo where it bent in the undergrowth;Then took the other, as just as fair,And having perhaps the better claimBecause it was grassy and wanted wear,Though as for that the passing thereHad worn them really about the same,And both that morning equally layIn leaves no step had trodden black.Oh, I marked the first for another day!Yet knowing how way leads on to wayI doubted if I should ever come back.I shall be telling this with a sighSomewhere ages and ages hence:Two roads diverged in a wood, and I,I took the one less traveled by,And that has made all the difference.  • Robert Frost