My Grandpa Norman played the tenor banjo, a 1936 Montana Silver Bell. Now his banjo is mine, with its mother-of-pearl tuning pegs (a gift from Grandma) and his initials (NHD) on the back. This poem is a triolet, a form featured today in Alice Schertle's poem on GottaBook.
Grandpa's Banjo
Standing silent so long
Grandpa's banjo is still.
Grandpa's music is gone
standing silent so long.
I cannot play one song
but I promise I will.
Standing silent so long
Grandpa's banjo is still.
© Amy LV
Thank you, Kyle, for inspiring these stringed-thoughts with your ukulele music.
It was fun today, finding myself constantly muttering, "This could be a poem!" about everything from spiders in the shower to cattails on a roadside. It seems that this "poem a day" for thirty days will be healthy in more ways than one.
Thank you, Kyle, for inspiring these stringed-thoughts with your ukulele music.
It was fun today, finding myself constantly muttering, "This could be a poem!" about everything from spiders in the shower to cattails on a roadside. It seems that this "poem a day" for thirty days will be healthy in more ways than one.
Today I received April's issue of LADYBUG magazine. I have a poem in this issue, illustrated by Aaron Boyd. Thank you, Aaron, for your permission to include this whimsical & realistic artwork here.
My daughters and I ate many books tonight at Buffalo's Edible Book Festival, and we'll be sure to go back next year, perhaps even with an entry of our own.
Amy,
ReplyDeleteCongratulations on getting this great poem published in Ladybug!
Dear Mrs. Ludwig Vanderwater,
ReplyDeleteWe just read this poem and we feel sad, sad because we think your grandpa died and you miss his music. We are wondering if you don't know how to play it still. Or have you learned?
Peace,
Mr. Riccione's Class