Paul Klee's Birthday!

Paul Klee, Cat and Bird, 1928, oil on canvas, MoMA
Today is the birthday of my favorite artist, Paul Klee (pronounced Clay).
Here we have quintessential cat, with oversized oval eyes, heart-shaped nose, and bird on the brain.
And for poetry friday a cat poem by Eleanor Farjeon:


Cats Sleep Anywhere

Cats sleep anywhere, any table, any chair.
Top of piano, window-ledge, in the middle, on the edge.
Open draw, empty shoe, anybody's lap will do.
Fitted in a cardboard box, in the cupboard with your frocks.
Anywhere! They don't care! Cats sleep anywhere.

Thank you!

artwork by Hannoch Piven

I'd like to thank all the followers of my blog, which has been in hibernation recently, but will emerge in January full force to share my upcoming Spring book: Poetrees.
Meanwhile here's a quote from my good friend Al:
"The difference between stupidity and genius is that genius has its limits." -- Albert Einstein

Harpo's Birthday

Harpo Marx (Early Days): "We were washed up. We were stranded...I was depressed, and confused, and I had to be alone. I kept telling myself that something good always happened every time I hit bottom. But I didn’t believe it.
...As I walked, a long-forgotten voice came out of my past. Miss Flatto. Miss Flatto, wiggling her finger at my nose and saying, ‘Some day you’ll realize, young man! Some day you’ll realize!’...
I was startled to find I was standing watching an auction sale... I was careful to keep my hands in my pockets, so I could resist any crazy impulse to make a bid, and blow my entire capital of seven cents.
The shelves were nearly emptied out and most of the crowd had left, but I still hung around, having nothing better to do with myself. Finally everything was gone except for one scrub brush, the former owner, hovering in the background, the auctioneer, myself, and an elderly Italian couple. The elderly couple had been there all the time. Either they had no money or they were too timid to make a bid on anything. Whichever it was, they exchanged sad looks now that the auction was winding up.
The auctioneer was tired. ‘All right,’ he said. ‘Let’s get it over with and not horse around. I have left here one desirable item. One cleansing brush in A-number-one, brand-new condition, guaranteed to give you floors so clean you could eat off them. What am I offered?’
The old Italian guy and his wife looked at each other, searching for the key to the right thing to say... they held on to each other like they had done something wrong. I said quickly, ‘One cent.’
The auctioneer whacked his gavel.
‘Sold-thank-God-to-the-young-American-gentleman-for-one-cent.’ I picked up my brush and handed it to the old lady. She was as touched as if I had given her the entire contents of the store. The old man grabbed my hand and pumped it. They both grinned at me and poured out a river of Italian that I couldn’t understand. ‘Think nothing of it,’ I said, and added, ‘Ciao, eh?’ ... which was the only Italian I could remember from 93rd street. They thought this was pretty funny, the way I said it, and they walked away laughing. I walked away laughing too... I couldn’t explain it, but a lousy penny scrub brush had changed the whole complexion of life."

ogden nash's birthday

Today, August 19th is the birthday of the august poet Ogden Nash.
Here's one of my favorites:

The Llama

The one-L lama, he's a priest
The two-L llama, he's a beast
And I would bet a silk pyjama
There isn't any three-L lllama

(Nash appended a footnote to this poem: "The author's attention has been called to a type of conflagration known as a three-alarmer. Pooh."[4])

Águas de Março

For Poe tree friday: Águas de Março (The Waters of March) by the late Brazilian composer Tom Jobim.

The painting is by Paul Klee

Remembra in Brazil, in the Southern Demisphere, Marco, March, is the end of summer.

To hear it beautifully sung by the late Elis Regina click on this link:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g3oNSFQVzNM

The Waters of March

A stick, a stone,

it's the end of the road

It's the rest of a stump,

it's a little alone

It's a sliver of glass, it is life,

it's the sun

It is night, it is death,

it's a trap, it's a gun

The oak when it blooms,

a fox in the brush

The knot in the wood,

the song of a thrush

The wood of the wind,

a cliff, a fall

A scratch, a lump, it is nothing at all

It's the wind blowing free, it's the end of the slope

It's a beam, it's a void, it's a hunch, it's a hope

And the river bank talks of the waters of March

It's the end of the strain,

It's the joy in your heart

The foot, the ground, the flesh and the bone

The beat of the road, a slingshot's stone

A truckload of bricks in the soft morning light

A shot of a gun in the dead of the night

A mile, a must, a thrust, a bump,

It's a girl, it's a rhyme, it's a cold, it's the mumps .

The plan of the house, the body in bed

And the car that got stuck, it's the mud, it's the mud

A float, a drift, a flight, a wing

A hawk, a quail, oh, the promise of spring

And the river bank talks of the waters of March

It's the promise of life, it's the joy in your heart

Poetry Frightday

Illustration and poem "Deinonychus" copyright 2009 Douglas Florian

For Poetry Friday a frightful poem, "Deinonychus" from DINOTHESAURUS. Deinonychus was a dinosaur from the Cretaceous Period that used its sharp claws and powerful jaws to kill its prey. The raptors in the movie Jurassic Park that chased the kids around the lab were very similar to this predator. Some paleontologists say it was warm-blooded and had feathers (which I've indicated a bit). There was also a heavy metal band named Deinonychus. I snuck their goth logo into the art.

Deinonychus

die-NON-i-kus (terrible claw)

Deinonychus had terrible claws.

Deinonychus had dangerous jaws.

Deinonychus was built to attack.

Deinonychus would hunt in a pack.

Deinonychus would leap on its prey.

Deinonychus could ruin your whole day!

Poetry Fry Day

"Painting, Smoking, Eating" by Philip Guston

For Poetry Fry Day:

Eating Poetry

by Mark Strand
Ink runs from the corners of my mouth.
There is no happiness like mine.
I have been eating poetry.
The librarian does not believe what she sees.
Her eyes are sad
and she walks with her hands in her dress.
The poems are gone.
The light is dim.
The dogs are on the basement stairs and coming up.
Their eyeballs roll,
their blond legs burn like brush.
The poor librarian begins to stamp her feet and weep.

She does not understand.
When I get on my knees and lick her hand,
she screams.
I am a new man.
I snarl at her and bark.
I romp with joy in the bookish dark.

Bob Dylan's Birthday

Three days before Buddy Holly died, Bob Dylan saw him perform. Here's the story in Dylan's own words:
"And I just want to say that when I was sixteen or seventeen years old, I went to see Buddy Holly play at Duluth National Guard Armory and I was three feet away from him...and he LOOKED at me. And I just have some sort of feeling that he was---I don't know how or why---but I know he was with us all the time we were making this record in some kind of way.

Here's the link to hear Dylan sing "Girl of the North Country."

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3Qhwemir1Ag



"Girl Of The North Country"


If you're traveling in the north country fair
Where the winds hit heavy on the borderline
Remember me to one who lives there
She once was the true love of mine.
If you go when the snowflakes storm
When the rivers freeze and summer ends
Please see if she's a coat so warm
To keep her from the howlin' winds.
Please see if her hair hangs long
If it rolls and flows all down her breast
Please see from me if her hair hangs long
That's the way I remember her best.
I'm a-wonderin' if she remember me at all
Many times I've often prayed
In the darkness of my night
In the brightness of my day.
So if you're travelin' in the north country fair
Where the winds hit heavy on the borderline
Remember me to one who lives there
She once was a true love of mine.

Apropos of Nothing

Ever wonder where the lyrics from Sheryl Crow's song "All I Wanna Do" came from? Not really? Well they came from a poem "Fun" written by poet Wyn Cooper in the above book, The Country of Here Below.

Fun

“All I want is to have a little fun
Before I die,” says the man next to me
Out of nowhere, apropos of nothing. He says
His name’s William but I’m sure he’s Bill
Or Billy, Mac or Buddy; he’s plain ugly to me,
And I wonder if he’s ever had fun in his life.
We are drinking beer at noon on Tuesday,
In a bar that faces a giant car wash.
The good people of the world are washing their cars
On their lunch hours, hosing and scrubbing
As best they can in skirts and suits.
They drive their shiny Datsuns and Buicks
Back to the phone company, the record store,
The genetic engineering lab, but not a single one
Appears to be having fun like Billy and me.
I like a good beer buzz early in the day,
And Billy likes to peel the labels
From his bottles of Bud and shred them on the bar.
Then he lights every match in an oversized pack,
Letting each one burn down to his thick fingers
Before blowing and cursing them out.
A happy couple enters the bar, dangerously close
To one another, like this is a motel,
But they clean up their act when we give them
A look. One quick beer and they’re out,
Down the road and in the next state
For all I care, smiling like idiots.
We cover sports and politics and once,
When Billy burns his thumb and lets out a yelp,
The bartender looks up from his want-ads.
Otherwise the bar is ours, and the day and the night
And the car wash too, the matches and Buds
And the clean and dirty cars, the sun and the moon
And every motel on this highway. It’s ours you hear?
And we’ve got plans, so relax and let us in—
All we want is to have a little fun.

Copyright © 1987 by Wyn Cooper

Shakespeare here

April 23 is the birthday of William Shakespeare. Hereth is perhaps his best known sonnet. Enjoyeth!

Sonnet 18

Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?

Thou art more lovely and more temperate:

Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,

And summer's lease hath all too short a date:

Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,

And often is his gold complexion dimm'd;

And every fair from fair sometime declines,

By chance or nature's changing course untrimm'd;

But thy eternal summer shall not fade

Nor lose possession of that fair thou owest;

Nor shall Death brag thou wander'st in his shade,

When in eternal lines to time thou growest:

So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,

So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.

Happy Birthday Elizabeth!

Today is the birthday of Queen Elizabeth II, depicted here by the late Tibor Kalman. You may notice here that her red ribbon is placed on her left side, whereas normally it would be on her right side. This shocking discrepency has caused quite a stir, especially here in Queens, where she was born, and in Elizabeth, New Jersey, where she was raised. Happy Birthday, Libby!

4th Starred Review!!!!

Triceratops poem and image copyright 2009 Douglas Florian
My editor, Andrea, has just told me that DINOTHESAURUS will receive its fourth starred review in the May 1st issue of School Library Journal. Yay!!!! Here it is, as well as the Triceratops poem:

* School Library Journal May 1, 2009 issue
DINOTHESAURUS Written and Illustrated by Douglas Florian(Beach Lane Books; ISBN 9781416979784; March 2009; Spring catalog pg. 3)K-Gr 3–Set in spreads of dreamy dinosaur art, these 20 playful paleontologic poems overflow with wit and useful information. “What kept the Spinosaurus warm/When it was colder than the norm?/Spines much like a solar panel./(And long underwear of flannel.)” Sandwiched between two general poems entitled “The Age of Dinosaurs” and “The End of Dinosaurs,” the entries describe individual species. Each selection includes a helpful pronunciation guide as well as the meaning behind the dinosaur’s name. In muted colors with unexpected details, the ethereal artwork differs from the bold, aggressive pictures found in many dinosaur books. Created on paper bags with a variety of media, this collage art expands on the humor found in the verses. Back matter includes a “Glossarysaurus” that provides more information for each dinosaur and details about its extinction, and a page of dinosaur museums and fossil Web sites. This smart marriage of dinosaurs and poetry will delight a wide audience.–Julie Roach, Cambridge Public Library, MA (starred)

Triceratops
try-SAIR-a-tops (three-horned face)

Triceratops.
Try-scare-a-tops.
Try-wouldn't-want-to-dare-a-tops.
Triceratops.
Try-stare-a-tops.
Beware-and-please-take-care-a-tops.
Born with three great horns in place,
Triceratops was in your face.

Image and poem copyright 2009 Jon Agee

Here's Jon Agee's latest creation Orangutan Tongs: Poems to Tangle Your Tongue (Hyperion). These aren't just tongue twisters they're tongue tornadoes with wonderful wordplay and a love of the sheer sound of words. Here's a short sample:

Drawings

Drew and Lou drew drawings.

They both drew nicely...but!

Drew drew what Lou drew

And Lou drew what Drew drew,

So nobody knew who drew what!

It's a funny way to draw your pay but it drew out a laugh from me!

Speaking of drawing, the punny poems are illustrated by Jon with simple elegant watercolors that prove less is more, more or less.

So please agree to join Jon Agee and me in enjoying these 48 pages of joy.

"For my part I know nothing with any certainty, but the sight of the stars makes me dream."

Vincent Van Gogh

Old and New

image from Built by Angels:The Story of the Old New Synagogue copyright 2009 by Mark Podwal

How can something be old and new? When it's a marvelous new book by Mark Podwal.

Built by Angels: The Story of the Old New Synagogue (Harcourt) is Podwal's 12th children's book and one of his best. Based on the story of the Altneuschul, meaning Old-New Synagogue, in the city of Prague, this book sings with color as it poetically weaves the tale of the world's oldest still operational synagogue. Podwal reveals the many facts and legends surrounding the place where angels are said to have used "square stones, round stones, stone doors, stone floors, stones carved like leaves, others like grapes..." to create a special place for Jews to pray. It was in a nearby river in Prague that the Great Rabbi Loew is said to have made a golem, a being created from clay, fashioned to protect the Jews of Prague. Rabbi Loew long ago passed away, but his chair by the synagogue's eastern wall remains empty, and the golem rests locked in the dusty attic where it "must not be disturbed lest it go wild and hurl houses into the clouds as it once did..."

Built by Angels closes with an author's note loaded with facts such as, "Symbolizing the twelve tribes of Israel are twelve high windows," and a short bibliography. With words of simple wisdom and luminous art of acrylic, gouache and colored pencils, Podwal himself has made the inanimate come to life in a delightful book of meaning and charm.

New York Times Review

Detail of "The Age of Dinosaurs" from DINOTHESAURUS copyright 2009 by Douglas Florian
In today's New York Times Sunday Book Review is a nice review of DINOTHESAURUS. A picture would have been nicer, but the Baryonyx ate the photographer. Above is a detail of the opening poem illustration. Below is the review:

DINOTHESAURUS: Prehistoric Poems and Paintings.Written and illustrated by Douglas Florian.Atheneum. $17.99. (Ages 6 and up)
Florian’s whimsical rhyming text contains helpful lessons: for example, how to pronounce “Micropachycephalosaurus,” for “small, thick-headed lizard,” or “Plesiosaur” — “we always say PLEASE before we might bite.” A bit of dinosaur lore follows: “What kept the Spinosaurus warm / When it was colder than the norm? / Spines much like a solar panel. / (And long underwear of flannel.)” The underwear part might be misleading, but Florian’s art — in gouache, collage, colored pencil, stencils, etc. — is gorgeous and fun.

The Dinosaurs Hatch Tonight!

poem "Barosaurus" and image from DINOTHESAURUS copyright 2009 by Douglas Florian

Tonight at midnight the dinosaurs will hatch for the publication date of DINOTHESAURUS: Prehistoric Poems and Paintings. I'd like to thank my editor Andrea, my designers Ann and Michael, and my pet Iguanodon, Ignatz. Pictured above is Barosaurus, seen in a slightly different locale on the book's jacket (boys don't buy pink). While researching this book I read in a usually reliable Dorling Kindersley book that "Barosaurus weighed more than 8 elephants." That fact helped to start my first line: "I weigh more than eight elephants." Nice alliteration there, but unfortunately it's probably not true. As I discovered in the authoritative Dinosaurs: The Most Complete, Up-to-Date Encyclopedia for Dinosaur Lovers of All Ages by paleontologist Thomas R. Holtz, Jr, the Barosaurus weighed about as much as two elephants. Not too exciting. I did discover an alternate and accurate first line. Here's the poem:

Barosaurus
BAR-oh-SAW-rus (heavy lizard)

I'm higher than five elephants.
I'm longer than most whales.
My giant neck is balanced by
My forty-three foot tail.
A tail that is my weapon.
It swings from side to side.
From nose to tail I'm ninety feet-
Het kid, ya wanna ride?

If I've promosed you the book it will be coming soon. I received my author's copies a few days ago. I'm available for interviews and the book is available at amazon.com. My iguanodon is not available, and I have to go take him for a walk now.

Valentina Tereshkova- Poetry Friday

Who is Valentina Tereshkova? You mean you don't know. Read my new poem to DISCOVER.

Valentina Tereshkova

Valentina Tereshkova
Shined as bright as any nova-
Won a special spatial race:
The first woman into space.

Today is the birthday of Russian Cosmonaut Valentina Tereshkova, born March 6, 1937. She became the first woman to fly into space aboard Vostok 6 on June 16, 1963.
Despite nausea and physical discomfort, she orbited the earth 48 times and spent almost three days in space. With a single flight, she logged more flight time than the combined times of all American astronauts who had flown before that date. She recently won the greatest woman of the century award.

PULSE New York

Heartic, gouache on paper, 10 1/2" X 10 1/2 " 2006
I will have 25 abstract gouache on paper pieces at the big art fair PULSE New York, which runs Thursday March 5th through Sunday March 8th at Hudson River Park's Pier 40 (take West Houston Street to the Hudson River). The question is: Does the Art World still even have a pulse? I will be happy to discuss this while we brunch at noon in the Bravin-Lee Gallery booth F-06 on Thursday.
Now in its fourth year, PULSE New York is the city's largest and most highly regarded fair dedicated exclusively to contemporary art. This edition will be its most diverse ever, with 101 exhibitors representing 26 countries in Europe, Asia, and the Americas.
See you there!

Poetry Prelutsky Friday

For Poetry Friday a poem on the auk by Jack Prelutsky my fine auk-quantance at Greenwillow Books where we worked with Susan Hirshman and now create with Virginia Duncan. The expressive illustration is by the talented artist Meilo So. Poem and painting are from The Beauty of the Beast: Poems from the Animal Kingdom (Knopf) 1997. Poem Copyright 1990 Jack Prelutsky. Art copyright 1997 by Meilo So.

AN AUK IN FLIGHT

An auk in flight
is sheer delight,
it soars above the sea.

An auk on land
is not so grand--
an auk walks aukwardly.

Listen To the Wind

LISTEN TO THE WIND: THE STORY OF DR. GREG AND THREE CUPS OF TEA, by Greg Mortenson and Susan L. Roth. Illustrated by Susan L. Roth. (Dial, $16.99.) A school grows in Pakistan. (Ages 4 to 8)

This book is #1 on the New York Times bestseller list for children's books and it's co-written and illustrated by my talented friend Susan L. Roth. Susan has been doing absolutely great work for some years now, as I've been telling librarians, and now she deservedly has her "breakout book."

Based on the experience of American nurse Greg Mortenson, whose life was saved by the Himalayan villagers of Korphe, Pakistan, after his failed attempt to climb the mountain K2. He vowed to return and build a decent school for the impoverished villagers who sheltered him for 7 weeks and nursed him back to health. Not only did Mortenson return and build that school, but he has helped create an agency that has constructed some 50 schools in Pakistan and Afghanistan. Mortenson has written this story along with Susan L. Roth.

But the best part for me is the exquisite artwork of Susan. The collages, almost assemblages really, exude charm and authenticity with a variety of cloth, yarn, metal, and imagination that weave the tale in vivid detail, texture, and color. She brought the story to life. Susan explained that the art was inspired by actual clothing and objects from the village, where no scrap of fabric goes to waste. The back of the book contains photographs of Korphe village and its people.

You're sure to enjoy Susan L. Roth's other splendid books including Hecho En Mexico, My Love for You All Year Round, and The Biggest Frog in Austrailia.