"Put The World In Your Pocket" by Bobbi Katz

Put The World In Your Pocket

by Bobbi Katz

Pockets are nifty

for holding a quarter,

for holding a key,

or for holding a shell.

But the world is full of many more things

that don't fit in pockets so very well:

You can't put spring in a pocket-

not summer,

not winter,

not fall.

How could you pocket a giggle?

An elephant won't fit at all!

Yet you can carry a sunset,

people, the sea, or a home

neatly tucked inside a pocket,

when they're tucked inside a poem.

"My Shadow" by Robert Louis Stevenson

My Shadow

by Robert Louis Stevenson

I have a little shadow that goes in and out with me, 

And what can be the use of him is more than I can see. 

He is very, very like me from the heels up to the head; 

And I see him jump before me, when I jump into my bed. 

The funniest thing about him is the way he likes to grow— 

Not at all like proper children, which is always very slow; 

For he sometimes shoots up taller like an india-rubber ball, 

And he sometimes gets so little that there's none of him at all. 

He hasn't got a notion of how children ought to play, 

And can only make a fool of me in every sort of way. 

He stays so close beside me, he's a coward you can see; 

I'd think shame to stick to nursie as that shadow sticks to me! 

One morning, very early, before the sun was up, 

I rose and found the shining dew on every buttercup; 

But my lazy little shadow, like an arrant sleepy-head, 

Had stayed at home behind me and was fast asleep in bed.

"Every Day" by Naomi Shihab Nye

Every Day

by Naomi Shihab Nye

My hundred year old next door neighbor told me:

every day is a good day if you have it.

I had to think about that a minute.

She said, Every day is a present

someone left at your birthday place at the table.

Trust me! It may not feel like that

but it's true. When you're my age

you'll know. Twelve is a treasure.

And it's up to you

to unwrap the package gently,

lift out the gleaming hours

wrapped in tissue,

don't miss the bottom of the box.

"Wynken, Blynken and Nod" by Eugene Field

Wynken, Blynken and Nod

By Eugene Field

Wynken, Blynken, and Nod one night

   Sailed off in a wooden shoe,—

Sailed on a river of crystal light

   Into a sea of dew.

“Where are you going, and what do you wish?”

   The old moon asked the three.

“We have come to fish for the herring-fish

   That live in this beautiful sea;

   Nets of silver and gold have we,"

  Said Wynken,

            Blynken,

            And Nod.

The old moon laughed and sang a song,

   As they rocked in the wooden shoe;

And the wind that sped them all night long

   Ruffled the waves of dew;

The little stars were the herring-fish

   That lived in the beautiful sea.

“Now cast your nets wherever you wish,—

   Never afraid are we!”

   So cried the stars to the fishermen three,

            Wynken,

            Blynken,

            And Nod.

All night long their nets they threw

   To the stars in the twinkling foam,—

Then down from the skies came the wooden shoe,

   Bringing the fishermen home:

‘Twas all so pretty a sail, it seemed

   As if it could not be;

And some folk thought ‘twas a dream they’d dreamed

   Of sailing that beautiful sea;

   But I shall name you the fishermen three,

            Wynken,

            Blynken,

            And Nod.

Wynken and Blynken are two little eyes,

   And Nod is a little head,

And the wooden shoe that sailed the skies

   Is a wee one’s trundle-bed;

So shut your eyes while Mother sings

   Of wonderful sights that be,

And you shall see the beautiful things

   As you rock in the misty sea

   Where the old shoe rocked the fishermen three,

            Wynken,

            Blynken,

            And Nod.

"Where Are You" by Naomi Shihab Nye

Where Are You

By Naomi Shihab Nye

When I was small,

I called out through the house.

I'm here, said my mother and dad.

I'm here, said my brother,

and the bear on my bed

said it too.

In your bones

in your memory

trust me

I'm tucked inside each fresh paper page

you'll write on.

Each hour you don't see me, I'm still there.

How many things add up the same?

Your life, my life,

the bucket, the sea.

"If" by Rudyard Kipling

If

By Rudyard Kipling

If you can keep your head when all about you,

Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;

If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,

But make allowance for their doubting too;

If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,

Or, being lied about, don't deal in lies,

Or being hated don't give way to hating,

And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise;

If you can dream - and not make dreams your master;

If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim,

If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster

And treat those two impostors just the same:.

If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken

Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,

Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,

And stoop and build'em up with worn-out tools;

If you can make one heap of all your winnings

And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,

And lose, and start again at your beginnings,

And never breathe a word about your loss:

If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew

To serve your turn long after they are gone,

And so hold on when there is nothing in you

Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on!"

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,

Or walk with Kings - nor lose the common touch,

If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,

If all men count with you, but none too much:

If you can fill the unforgiving minute

With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,

Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,

And - which is more - you'll be a Man, my son!