Poetry+Break

April 8

**Sick** by Shel Silverstein

"I cannot go to school today," Said little Peggy Ann McKay. "I have the measles and the mumps, A gash, a rash and purple bumps.  My mouth is wet, my throat is dry,  I'm going blind in my right eye.  My tonsils are as big as rocks,  I've counted sixteen chicken pox  And there's one more--that's seventeen  And don't you think my face looks green?  My leg is cut--my eyes are blue--  It might be instamatic flu,  I cough and sneeze and gasp and choke,  I'm sure that my left leg is broke--  My hip hurts when I move my chin,  My belly button's caving in,  My back is wrenched, my ankle's sprained,  My 'pendix pains each time it rains.  My nose is cold, my toes are numb.  I have a sliver in my thumb.  My neck is stiff, my voice is weak,  I hardly whisper when I speak.  My tongue is filling up my mouth,  I think my hair is falling out.  My elbow's bent, my spine ain't straight,  My temperature is one-o-eight.  My brain is shrunk, I cannot hear,  There is a hole inside my ear. I have a hangnail, and my heart is--what? What's that? What's that you say? You say today is. . . Saturday? G'bye, I'm going out to play!"

April 7

**Let there be new flowering**
[|Lucille Clifton] let there be new flowering in the fields let the fields turn mellow for the men let the men keep tender through the time let the time be wrested from the war let the war be won let love be at the end

April 6

Art Sanctuary
by Nikki Giovanni I would always choose to be the person running rather than the mob chasing I would prefer to be the person laughed at rather than the teenagers laughing I always admired the men and women who sat down for their rights And held in disdain the men and women who spat on them Everyone deserves Sanctuary a place to go where you are safe Art offers Sanctuary to everyone willing to open their hearts as well as their eyes

April 5 > code code

April 4 //**A Loaf of Poetry**// by Naoshi Koriyama

April 1 The teacher asks a question. You know the answer, you suspect you are the only one in the classroom who knows the answer, because the person in question is yourself, and on that you are the greatest living authority, but you don’t raise your hand. You raise the top of your desk and take out an apple. You look out the window. You don’t raise your hand and there is some essential beauty in your fingers, which aren’t even drumming, but lie flat and peaceful. The teacher repeats the question. Outside the window, on an overhanging branch, a robin is ruffling its feathers and spring is in the air.
 * The Hand**
 * Mary Ruefle**