Florian Cafe

UnBEElievables review from Kirkus

2012-01-22T18:29:00.004-05:00

Kirkus has reviewed my new book, UnBEElievables due out in March from Beach Lane Books (a division of Simon & Schuster). YAY!

UNBEELIEVABLES Honeybee Poems and
PaintingsAuthor: Florian, DouglasIllustrator: Florian,
DouglasReview Issue Date: January 15, 2012Online
Publish Date: December 21, 2011Publisher:Beach Lane/Simon
& SchusterPages: 32Price ( Hardcover ):
$16.99Publication Date: March 6, 2012ISBN (
Hardcover ): 978-1-4424-2652-8Category: Picture Books

Florian (Poetrees, 2010, etc.) bestows yet another pleasing mix of punny poems and colorful collages that blend whimsy and fact. The 14 poems introduce the roles of the queen, drones and workers and touch on such matters as anatomy, development from egg to bee, and even Colony
Collapse Disorder. Spreads like “Swarm” epitomize Florian’s skill at combining pithy rhymes,well-chosen facts and playfully tongue-in-cheek pictures.
“When it’s too crowded, then we form
A cloud of bees that’s called a swarm.”
A three-sentence paragraph, offset in smaller type, explains why bees swarm, the role of scout bees and what happens after a new home site is found. The facing picture shows a veritable thunderhead of bees, dwarfing the sun and forest in its imperative to move house. Design is crisp: The text type, Neutra, sits in pleasing, contrasting colors against saturated pages of crimson, ochre-gold and grass green. Characteristically poking visual fun at facts, the mixed-media pictures present bees as cheeky girls and boys with red, kewpie-doll
smiles. The queen sports a crown, scepter and cell phone, illustrating the couplet
“My princely sons are known as drones—
Not one of those boys ever phones!”
Meanwhile, those Belushi-looking bad boys slouch and smirk in chunky medallions and sideways baseball caps. Florian shines again here. ("BEEbliography," websites for further inquiry)
(Picture book/poetry. 5-8)

Mark Podwal at Yeshiva University Museum

2011-12-18T15:39:00.009-05:00

Photo of Podwal in Prague's Old Jewish Cemetary by Karel Kudlin.

Mark Podwal is an artist, author and physician. He's also my friend of many years. And he is the author and illustrator of many books for children, including the Jewish Book Award winner, The Angel's Mistake, stories and paintings about the endearing fools from the town of Chelm of Jewish folklore. In his A Passover Haggadah he joined the commentary of his friend Elie Wiesel with more than 50 exquisite drawings. Especially joyous is his A Sweet Year: A Taste of the Jewish holidays. His beautiful works of art, mostly on themes of Jewish history, legend, and legacy, are represented in the collections of the Metropolitan Museum of Art, the Victoria and Albert Museum, the Carnegie Museum of Art, Fogg Art Museum, the Jewish Museum in Prague, and the Library of Congress. Now Podwal has moved from illustration to history, in designing textiles, including a Torah curtain, for Prague's Altneuschul (Old-New Synagogue), the world's oldest operating synagogue. He was commissioned to design new textiles for the sanctuary. Embroidered in shimmering gold thread on rich velvet, the textiles reflect the traditions and mythology of the Altneuschul and one of the world's most vibrant Jewish communities. Before they are shipped to Prague for installation they are on exhibition at Yeshiva University Museum's downtown branch at 15 West 16th street.

How fitting that the Altneuschul (Old New Shul) should have the creations of Mark Podwal, whose entire body of work represents the marriage of old and new. For the textiles he researched the historical precedents, but created something contemporary. The manufacture of the textiles by Penn and Fletcher was itself a synthesis of tradition and technology.

Stevenson Summer

2011-09-02T14:53:00.005-04:00

As Summer draws to a close, and the days slowly sadly shorten, I thought of this Robert Louis Stevenson poem, "Bed in Summer."

Bed in Summer
By Robert Louis Stevenson 1850–1894

In winter I get up at night
And dress by yellow candle-light.
In summer, quite the other way,
I have to go to bed by day.

I have to go to bed and see
The birds still hopping on the tree,
Or hear the grown-up people's feet
Still going past me in the street.

And does it not seem hard to you,
When all the sky is clear and blue,
And I should like so much to play,
To have to go to bed by day?
Source: A Child's Garden of Verses (1999)

Mean Irene

2011-08-26T09:37:00.005-04:00

The Hurricane
by William Carlos Williams

The tree lay down
on the garage roof
and stretched, You
have your heaven,
it said, go to it.

The keen Irene Latham is hosting poetry friday at Live, Love, Explore: http://irenelatham.blogspot.com/2011/08/welcome-to-poetry-friday-roundup.html

2011-08-12T14:12:00.006-04:00

landscape with birds by paul klee

From Four Saints in Three Acts by Gertrude Stein

Pigeons on the grass alas.
Pigeons on the grass alas.
Short longer grass short longer longer shorter yellow grass. Pigeons
large pigeons on the shorter longer yellow grass alas pigeons on the
grass.
If they were not pigeons what were they.
If they were not pigeons on the grass alas what were they. He had
heard of a third and he asked about it it was a magpie in the sky.
If a magpie in the sky on the sky can not cry if the pigeon on the
grass alas can alas and to pass the pigeon on the grass alas and the
magpie in the sky on the sky and to try and to try alas on the
grass alas the pigeon on the grass the pigeon on the grass and alas.
They might be very well they might be very well very well they might
be.
Let Lucy Lily Lily Lucy Lucy let Lucy Lucy Lily Lily Lily Lily
Lily let Lily Lucy Lucy let Lily. Let Lucy Lily.

2011-07-29T15:46:00.003-04:00

Forgetfullness by Billy Collins

The name of the author is the first to go
followed obediently by the title, the plot,
the heartbreaking conclusion, the entire novel
which suddenly becomes one you have never read,
never even heard of,

as if, one by one, the memories you used to harbor
decided to retire to the southern hemisphere of the brain,
to a little fishing village where there are no phones.

Long ago you kissed the names of the nine Muses goodbye
and watched the quadratic equation pack its bag,
and even now as you memorize the order of the planets,

something else is slipping away, a state flower perhaps,
the address of an uncle, the capital of Paraguay.

Whatever it is you are struggling to remember
it is not poised on the tip of your tongue,
not even lurking in some obscure corner of your spleen.

It has floated away down a dark mythological river
whose name begins with an L as far as you can recall,
well on your own way to oblivion where you will join those
who have even forgotten how to swim and how to ride a bicycle.

No wonder you rise in the middle of the night
to look up the date of a famous battle in a book on war.
No wonder the moon in the window seems to have drifted
out of a love poem that you used to know by heart.

"Forgetfulness" from Questions About Angels, by Billy Collins, © 1999.

2011-07-08T11:51:00.007-04:00

Here's Donovan's poem/song from his double album, a gift from a flower to a garden, released in the U.S. in Dec. 1967. I love his stream -of -consciousness (or should I say ocean- of -consciousness) here. To hear him sing it, along with the ocean click:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mip8uVRt2II

Starfish-On-The-Toast
by Donovan Leitch

Fine rock a-pooling coast
this starfish on the toast
the men in the crabbing boats they cry

Far across the harbor
and 'round the sandy cove
the shepherd with his pipe and sheep he drove

big cloud tumbling high
the amazing flying sky
how the gulls are pillaging the town

fan faring daffodilly
trumpetingly small
all along the bathing hut wall

far across the empty beach
the tide has left this world
old men in tweed find study there

Holding whelks and periwinkles
tingling in his hand
little does he know they hold him too

Fine rock pooling coast
this starfish on the coast
the men in the crabbing boat they cry....

2011-07-04T09:31:00.002-04:00

March: In like a lion. Out like a lamb.
The Fourth of July: Out with a BAM!!!

2011-07-01T09:39:00.006-04:00

Paul Klee's drawing "Louse," created in 1940, near the end of his life.

One Art
by Elizabeth Bishop

The art of losing isn't hard to master;
so many things seem filled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster.

Lose something every day. Accept the fluster
of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.

Then practice losing farther, losing faster:
places, and names, and where it was you meant
to travel. None of these will bring disaster.

I lost my mother's watch. And look! my last, or
next-to-last, of three loved houses went.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.

I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,
some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.
I miss them, but it wasn't a disaster.

From The Complete Poems 1927-1979 by Elizabeth Bishop, published by Farrar, Straus & Giroux, Inc. Copyright © 1979, 1983 by Alice Helen Methfessel. Used with permission of Farrar, Straus & Giroux, LLC. All rights reserved.

maggie and milly and molly and may

2011-06-24T13:58:00.004-04:00

Cummings filled twenty pages of a notebook before this poem was finished.

maggie and milly and molly and may
by E. E. Cummings

10

maggie and milly and molly and may
went down to the beach(to play one day)

and maggie discovered a shell that sang
so sweetly she couldn't remember her troubles,and

milly befriended a stranded star
whose rays five languid fingers were;

and molly was chased by a horrible thing
which raced sideways while blowing bubbles:and

may came home with a smooth round stone
as small as a world and as large as alone.

For whatever we lose(like a you or a me)
it's always ourselves we find in the sea

2011-06-10T15:26:00.004-04:00

Eletelephony
by Laura Elizabeth Richards

Once there was an elephant,
Who tried to use the telephant—
No! No! I mean an elephone
Who tried to use the telephone—
(Dear me! I am not certain quite
That even now I've got it right.)
Howe'er it was, he got his trunk
Entangled in the telephunk;
The more he tried to get it free,
The louder buzzed the telephee—
(I fear I'd better drop the song
Of elephop and telephong!)

Little Boxes

2011-05-15T15:18:00.010-04:00

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZEvEEcc9iC8&feature=related

Another poem by Malvina Reynolds, copyright 1962 Shroeder Music Company, renewed 1990,inspired by what she saw on the hillside while driving to La Honda, California, from her home in Berkeley. It soon became a hit song for Pete Seeger. Many, many years later it was reborn as the theme song for the TV show "Weeds" and is sung in the link above by the marvelous Regina Spektor.

Little boxes on the hillside,
Little boxes made of ticky tacky,
Little boxes on the hillside,
Little boxes all the same.
There's a green one and a pink one
And a blue one and a yellow one,
And they're all made out of ticky tacky
And they all look just the same.

And the people in the houses
All went to the university,
Where they were put in boxes
And they came out all the same,
And there's doctors and lawyers,
And business executives,
And they're all made out of ticky tacky
And they all look just the same.

And they all play on the golf course
And drink their martinis dry,
And they all have pretty children
And the children go to school,
And the children go to summer camp
And then to the university,
Where they are put in boxes
And they come out all the same.

And the boys go into business
And marry and raise a family
In boxes made of ticky tacky
And they all look just the same.
There's a green one and a pink one
And a blue one and a yellow one,
And they're all made out of ticky tacky
And they all look just the same.

God Bless the Grass

2011-05-13T13:48:00.005-04:00

Written by Malvina Reynolds some years ago. Here's a video cover on youtube:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r85OxK58KnE

God bless the grass that grows thru the crack.
They roll the concrete over it to try and keep it back.
The concrete gets tired of what it has to do,
It breaks and it buckles and the grass grows thru,
And God bless the grass.

God bless the truth that fights toward the sun,
They roll the lies over it and think that it is done.
It moves through the ground and reaches for the air,
And after a while it is growing everywhere,
And God bless the grass.

God bless the grass that grows through cement.
It's green and it's tender and it's easily bent.
But after a while it lifts up its head,
For the grass is living and the stone is dead,
And God bless the grass.

God bless the grass that's gentle and low,
Its roots they are deep and its will is to grow.
And God bless the truth, the friend of the poor,
And the wild grass growing at the poor man's door,
And God bless the grass.

Schwitters Twitters

2011-04-01T08:14:00.007-04:00

On the occasion of Kurt Schwitters' new show at

Princeton artmuseum.princeton.edu, his Dada poem, and Mama collage on Poetree Freeday

Kurt Schwitters

To Anna Blume

You, oh you, beloved of my twenty-seven senses, I
love ya! - You thine thou yours, I you, you me.
- Us?
This (incidentally) does not belong here.
Who are you, countless woman? You are
- are you? - People say you are - let
them say it, they don't know where the steeple is.
You wear a hat on your feet and stand
on your hands, on your hands you walk.
Hello, your red clothes, sawed into white pleats.
Red I love, Anna Blume, red I love ya! - You
thine thou yours, I you, you me. - Us?
That (incidentally) belongs in the cold embers.
Red flower, red Anna Blume, what are people saying?
Prize question: 1. Anna Blume has a bird.
2. Anna Blume is red.
3. What color is the bird?
Blue is the color of your yellow hair.
Red is the cooing of your green bird.
You plain girl in an everyday dress, you dear
green animal, I love ya! - You thine thou yours, I
you, you me - us?
That (incidentally) belongs in the ember box.
Anna Blume! Anna, a-n-n-a, I am dripping your
name. Your name drips like soft suet.
Do you know, Anna, do you know yet?
You can also be read from back to front, and you, you
most marvelous creature of them all, you are from the back
as you are from the front: »a-n-n-a.«
Suet drips caress my back.
Anna Blume, you droppy animal, I love ya!

An Anna Blume

Poets House!

2011-03-14T13:15:00.002-04:00

Poets House, in Lower Manhattan, will be showing my children's book art, thanks to Mike Romanos, the children's room director.

Located at 10 River Terrace in Battery Park City, NY, Poets House was founded by poet Stanley Kunitz in 1985, and moved from Soho to its present digs in September 2009.

Its collection contains more than 50,000 volumes of poetry including books, journals, and digital media. Each year Poets House presents more than 200 public programs, including panels, lectures, readings and workshops. The children's room is free and open to the public. Here's their website:

http://poetshouse.org/home.htm

2010-10-21T09:56:00.005-04:00

Martian rocks may have names,thanks to the scientists of NASA's Pathfinder mission, which landed on the red planet and sent back 16,000 images. Other names include Yogi, Booboo, Poptart, and Jazzy. Mars gets as hot as 24 degrees Farenheit, but before you pack your bags, you should know that it's thin atmosphere is mostly Carbon Dioxide.
Full panorama below

http://lh3.ggpht.com/_yiiPzeRfNBQ/TI85RHzX3KI/AAAAAAAAAcU/hTEwuPEwwVo/s0/mars_rock_names_v2.jpg

2010-10-19T09:05:00.001-04:00

SIMON EVANS Symptoms of Loneliness, 2009 Pen, paper, scotch tape, correction fluid 28 1/2 X 39 3/8 inches. Courtesy Moon River

"Letting In the Light"

2010-06-06T18:02:00.003-04:00

I was surprised to get a nice review Friday in The New York Times of my show of abstract paintings (link below) There has been a dialogue (sometimes shouting match) between my illustration and abstract work for some time. This piece is titled "My Constellation" and is gouache on paper, 16 inches by 16 inches. Photo courtesy Bravin Lee Programs, 526 West 26th street, NY, NY

http://www.nytimes.com/2010/06/04/arts/design/04galleries-4.html?ref=design

The Truth About Hunting In Today's Africa

2010-05-30T20:21:00.002-04:00

Children often ask me "What is your favorite book?"

Well, truth be told, for sheer fantasic imagery and originality you can't go wrong with George Leonard Herter's "The Truth About Hunting In Today's Africa, and How to Go on Safari for $690.00." In this 1963 travel guide we discover that "baboons are simply too small for leopard bait" but "leopard farming is far more profitable than mink farming," and "hunting with a phonograph of distressed goat calls is encouraged." Perhaps out of print, but never out of mind.

Einstein's Birthday

2010-03-14T17:56:00.004-04:00

Today, March 14th, is Einstein's birthday.
Three quotes from the professor:

"The difference between genius and stupidity is that genius has its limits."
"I never think of the future. It gets here soon enough."
"The environment is everything that isn't me."

Happy birthday Uncle Albert.

Poetrees: First Review!

2010-01-17T14:57:00.003-05:00

Poetrees has received its first review, an "exquisite" one from School Library Journal:

FLORIAN, Douglas. Poetrees. illus. by author. 48p. glossary. CIP. S & S/Beach Lane Bks. Mar. 2010. RTE $16.99. ISBN 978-1-4169-8672-0. LC 2009003025.
Gr 3-6–Florian focuses on trees (seeds, bark, leaves, roots, and tree rings) and introduces readers to 13 species from around the world. An oversize, double-page illustration accompanies each poem. Some are read lengthwise, which enables the artist to highlight the awesome height and size of trees. The selections are accessible and concise, with child-friendly wordplay and artful design: of the “spreading,” “treading,” “always-outward-heading” banyan tree, Florian concludes: “It’s not a tree–/It’s a forest!” The primitive illustrations–crafted on “primed paper bags” using mixed media including gouache watercolor paints, colored pencils, rubber stamps, oil pastels, and collage–range in nuance from whimsy to mystery and reverence. In “The Seed,” Florian highlights the symmetry of trees by laying out the short text in a figure eight, an eternity symbol; this dovetails neatly with the overall theme of recycling and renewal. He concludes with a “Glossatree,” a thumbnail sketch of each tree, and an author’s note and sources. This exquisite collection, with its thoughtful wordplay and timely subject, rewards careful reading and should resonate with a wide audience.–Marilyn Taniguchi, Beverly Hills Public Library, CA

And here is the poem on the paper birch tree, native to America and known by at least three names. It usually grows where it's c-c-cold.

Paper Birch

Paper birch.

White birch.

Canoe birch too.

Beautiful

Native

Tree to view.

Smooth white birch bark.

Grows where it's cold.

Paper birrrrrrrrrrrrrch:

A sight to behold.

Dragon Tree!

2010-01-12T09:08:00.007-05:00

Another sneak preview from Poetrees, coming this spring via Beach Lane Books, an imprint of Simon & Schuster. Here's the Dragon Tree based on an exotic species found in Africa, Asia, and the Canary Islands. Its sap is bright red in color and called dragon's blood, and its stems and branches are said to resemble the legs of a dragon. I keep the one in my backyard under close watch. Note the intricate rhyme scheme, internal rhyme, and alliteration.

Dragon Tree

The dragons all heap scorn on me
Because I'm born an earthly tree.
While dragons roam and dragons race,
I'm stuck at home, tied to one place.
For though my sap is dragon's blood,
My roots are trapped in dirt and mud.
Great claws I grow
But I can't gore.
And I don't know
To even roar.
In dragon dreams I scheme to fly
And scream in fire across the sky.
To leave this lowly life terrestrial,
And soar, what's more, in skies celestial.
poem, Dragon Tree, and image copyright 2010 by Douglas Florian

New Year, New Book!

2010-01-01T13:09:00.008-05:00

Happy New Year to all fellow bloggers. Yesterday a surprise came in the mail: my new book Poetrees, to be published this March by Beach Lane Books, an imprint of Simon & Schuster.
Here's a sneak preview of one poem, Giant Sequoias.
Giant Sequoias
Ancient seers
Of three thousand years.
Heavenly high.
Friends to the sky.
Spongy thick bark.
Large as an ark.
Gargantuan girth.
Anchored in earth.
Grow by degrees
To world's tallest trees.
Never destroy a
Giant sequoia.

As the "Glossatree" explains: The giant sequoia is one of the world's biggest and oldest tree species. The largest one, named General Sherman, lives in California's Sequoia National Park. This tree is more than 270 feet tall and has a trunk that's 30 feet in diameter. Giant sequoias became rare after many were harvested for lumber. I'd like to thank my awesome editor Andrea Welch, and my delightful designers Michael McCartney and Ann Bobco for making this book happen.
image, and text copyright 2010 by Douglas Florian

Paul Klee's Birthday!

2009-12-18T07:39:00.002-05:00

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!

2009-11-26T14:40:00.005-05:00

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

2009-11-23T16:18:00.002-05:00

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

2009-08-19T14:29:00.002-04:00

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

2009-07-10T15:34:00.006-04:00

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

2009-07-03T15:17:00.008-04:00

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

2009-06-26T18:28:00.004-04:00

"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

2009-05-24T16:40:00.003-04:00

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

2009-05-10T09:47:00.008-04:00

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

2009-04-23T10:47:00.001-04:00

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!

2009-04-21T22:41:00.003-04:00

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!!!!

2009-04-14T18:43:00.006-04:00

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.

2009-04-07T10:32:00.002-04:00

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.

2009-03-30T00:16:00.002-04:00

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

Vincent Van Gogh

Old and New

2009-03-20T08:28:00.005-04:00

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

2009-03-15T19:02:00.003-04:00

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!

2009-03-09T20:15:00.006-04:00

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

2009-03-06T09:05:00.004-05:00

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

2009-03-03T21:53:00.004-05:00

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

2009-02-27T10:37:00.006-05:00

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

2009-02-25T23:37:00.004-05:00

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.

Mae West Monday

2009-02-23T01:11:00.004-05:00

First off, the answer to Friday's quiz:

who wrote "O brave new world" ?

was William Shakespeare, the man who left his "second best bed" to his wife in his will. See Miranda's speech in The Tempest here:http://www.shakespeare-literature.com/The_Tempest/9.html

Now here are today's Mae West quotes:

"I speak two languages, Body and English."

"I've been things and seen places."

"It isn't what I do, but how I do it. It isn't what I say, but how I say it, and how I look when I do it and say it."

Let's hope we all do, say, and look fine this week.

Poetry Friday/ Poemagram

2009-02-19T23:57:00.006-05:00

Without googling, who penned these words?

O wonder!

How many goodly creatures are there here!

How beauteous mankind is! O brave new world

That has such people in't!

If you don't know the author, hit the books!

No shortage of exclamations here!

And now on to a new form: the Poemagram. Take a long word, or two, preferably your name, and find all the anagrams in it. Wordsmith.org has an angram site: http://wordsmith.org/anagram/index.html

The 14 letters of my name contain 71,429 anagrams, but my friend John Lee has only 2: Lee John and Eel John. If your name is short take someone elses, William Shakespeare, for example.

Now take the best the anagrams and make a poem, a Poemagram, rhyming or not. Here's mine in ABAB rhyme scheme.

Douglas Florian (shopping list)

Landaus Frog Oil

Diagonals Flour

Nasal Gourd Foil

A Fall Dingo Sour

Diurnal Sofa Log

A Final Door Slug

Audio Snarl Flog

A Rain Floods Lug

Aural Food Sling

A Flag Odours Nil

Dual Aloof Rings

A Snafu Door Gill

Landaus Frog Oil is a great moisturizer. Diagonals Flour is used to make a 3/4 upside down cake. Nasal Gourd Foil protects against cold germs. A Fall Dingo Sour is curiously refreshing!

A Diurnal Sofa Log keeps track of time squandered during the day. A Final Door Slug keeps drafts out. An Audio Snarl Flog beats unruly radios senseless. A Rain Floods Lug comes in handy in your basement. Aural Food Sling works great in food fights. A Flag Odours Nil is a must-have at schools. Dual Aloof Rings are the perfect gift for the couple who has everything. A Snafu Door Gill keeps those hinges moving freely.

Poetry Friday/Another Starred Review

2009-02-13T00:38:00.003-05:00

Poem "Giganotosaurus" and illustration detail copyright 2009 by Douglas Florian
This just in from my editor: DINOTHESAURUS will receive another starred review, this time in the March 1st edition of Booklist:
* Dinothesaurus: Prehistoric Poems and Paintings.
Florian, Douglas (Author), Florian, Douglas (Illustrator)
Mar 2009. 56 p. Atheneum, hardcover, $17.99. (9781416979784). 811
Florian, whose previous picture-book poetry collections have covered the animal kingdom, from dogs and cats to lizards and pollywogs, takes a few evolutionary steps back in this exuberant verse roundup of prehistoric creatures. As usual, Florian's blend of irresistible wordplay and collage art will draw children. The gleeful twists of language evident in the title continue throughout each of the selections spotlighting a different species, including the Triceratops (Try-scare-a-tops./ Try-wouldn't-want-to-dare-a-tops"). Even as they are delighting in the lines' silliness, children will absorb solid facts, as in a poem that introduces earth's epochs: "The dinosaurs/First lived outdoors/ During the time Triassic./ While most died out,/ Some came about/ Later in the Jurassic." The selections aren't equally strong, and the appended material-
information about each dinosaur and a bibliography- is printed on textured, colored backgrounds that compete with the text. Still, this is a standout title on a perennially popular subject that has inspired surprisingly few poetry collections for kids.
-Gillian Engberg

And here's another sneak preview:

Giganotosaurus
GIG-ah-not-oh-SAW-rus ( giant southern lizard)
One hundred million years before us
Lived the Giga-not-o-saurus.
Gigantic, titanic, enormous, colossal-
What once was humongous is now just a fossil.
When it was hungry or got into fights,
It opened its jaws and took giga-bites.

Happy Birthday Raffy!

2009-02-11T17:16:00.005-05:00

Happy Birthday Raffy,

my nutty professor!

Vogon Poetry, Part 2

2009-02-10T21:14:00.005-05:00

Here, in Part 2 of my homage to The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy by Douglas Adams
is an actual example of Vogon poetry by the Vogon master pictured above (isn't he so photogenic?) Prostetnic Vogon Jeltz:

Arthur Dent sat and quivered. He had no idea what he was in for, but he knew that he hadn't liked anything that had happened so far and didn't think things were likely to change.
The Vogon began to read — a fetid little passage of his own devising.
"Oh frettled gruntbuggly ..." he began. Spasms wracked Ford's body — this was worse than ever he'd been prepared for.
"... thy micturations are to me As plurdled gabbleblotchits on a lurgid bee."
"Aaaaaaarggggghhhhhh!" went Ford Prefect, wrenching his head back as lumps of pain thumped through it. He could dimly see beside him Arthur lolling and rolling in his seat. He clenched his teeth.
"Groop I implore thee," continued the merciless Vogon, "my foonting turlingdromes."
His voice was rising to a horrible pitch of impassioned stridency. "And hooptiously drangle me with crinkly bindlewurdles, Or I will rend thee in the gobberwarts with my blurglecruncheon, see if I don't!"
"Nnnnnnnnnnyyyyyyyuuuuuuurrrrrrrggggggghhhhh!" cried Ford Prefect and threw one final spasm as the electronic enhancement of the last line caught him full blast across the temples. He went limp.
Arthur lolled.
"Now Earthlings ..." whirred the Vogon (he didn't know that Ford Prefect was in fact from a small planet in the vicinity of Betelgeuse, and wouldn't have cared if he had) "I present you with a simple choice! Either die in the vacuum of space, or ..." he paused for melodramatic effect, "tell me how good you thought my poem was!"
and in the final Vogon post tomorrow, Part 3: Why does Prostenic Vogon Jeltz write poetry?

Vogon Poetry, Part 1

2009-02-09T16:56:00.004-05:00

As Douglas Adams told you in The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy:

Vogon poetry is of course the third worst in the Universe.
The second worst is that of the Azagoths of Kria. During a recitation by their Poet Master Grunthos the Flatulent of his poem "Ode To A Small Lump of Green Putty I Found In My Armpit One Midsummer Morning" four of his audience died of internal haemorrhaging, and the President of the Mid-Galactic Arts Nobbling Council survived by gnawing one of his own legs off. Grunthos is reported to have been "disappointed" by the poem's reception, and was about to embark on a reading of his twelve-book epic entitled My Favourite Bathtime Gurgles when his own major intestine, in a desperate attempt to save life and civilization, leapt straight up through his neck and throttled his brain.
The very worst poetry of all perished along with its creator Paula Nancy Millstone Jennings of Greenbridge, Essex, England in the destruction of the planet Earth.

Pterrifying Pterosaurs

2009-02-06T00:18:00.004-05:00

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

For Poetry Friday a poem from DINOTHESAURUS. As the Glossarysaurus explains, Pterosaurs were flying prehistoric reptiles (not true dinosaurs) that lived in all three periods of the dinosaurs: Triassic, Jurassic, and Cretaceous. They flew on wings of skin that stretched from their bodies to the tips of their long wing fingers.

Pterosaurs
TERR-oh-sawrs (winged lizards)

The pterrifying pterosaurs
Flew ptours the ptime of dinosaurs.
With widespread wings and pteeth pto ptear,
They pterrorized the pteeming air.
They were not ptame.
They were ptenacious--
From the Ptriassic
Pto the Cretaceous.

The Poetry Friday roundup today is at Elaine Magliaro's Wild Rose Reader. Check it out!

The Living End

2009-02-03T21:39:00.004-05:00

detail of endpaper from DINOTHESAURUS copyright 2009 by Douglas Florian
Who says endpapers can't be fun? This intrepid girl is shaking hands with a pterodactyl, a prehistoric reptile with a wingspan of more than 30 feet (and you thought bats were scary!)Though not true dinosaurs (dinosaurs were terrestrial) pterodactyls were part of an airborne reptile group called pterosaurs(winged lizards), the poem of which I promise to reveal this Poetry Friday. The painting is based on a 19th century engraving, red-headed child not included.

Wabi Sobby

2009-02-02T09:12:00.003-05:00

I still can't believe that Wabi Sabi was not even honored at ALA! What were they thinking?

For me this book is so rich, tactile, organic, ORIGINAL, and decidedly distinguished that it's one of my all time favorites. Ed Young gets my gold medal hands down!

Mae West Monday

2009-02-02T08:57:00.002-05:00

Two Mae West quips today:

"She's the kind of girl who climbed the ladder of success wrong by wrong. "

"It takes two to get one in trouble. "

Langston Hughes

2009-02-01T17:55:00.002-05:00

Today, February 1st, is the birthday of Langston Hughes and the first day of Black History Month. One of the founders of the Harlem Renaissance in the 1920's, Hughes continued to write novels, plays, short stories, and poetry through the 1960's about both the pain and the joy of experiencing black culture in America. His work was deeply related to his personal life, and was influenced by jazz and the poets Paul Laurence Dunbar and Walt Whitman. The poem Dream Variations is one of my favorites.

Dream Variations

by Langston Hughes

To fling my arms wide
In some place of the sun,
To whirl and to dance
Till the white day is done.
Then rest at cool evening
Beneath a tall tree
While night comes on gently,
Dark like me--
That is my dream!
To fling my arms wide
In the face of the sun,
Dance! Whirl! Whirl!
Till the quick day is done.
Rest at pale evening . . .
A tall, slim tree . . .
Night coming tenderly
Black like me.

Nice Review & Sneak Preview

2009-01-30T00:12:00.005-05:00

detail from "Iguanodon" from DINOTHESAURUS. Image and poem copyright 2009 Douglas Florian
Horn Book is giving DINOTHESAURUS a nice review.
But first another sneak preview, this time Iguanodon, pictured in a detail above.

Iguanodon
ih-GWAH-no-don (iguana tooth)

I wouldn't wanna come upon

The ten-foot-tall Iguanodon.

But if one day Iguanodon

I came upon I'd wanna

Ask that big IguanoDON:

Where is IguanoDONNA?

Now, here's the nice review from Horn Book. It's terribly easy to make mistakes in regards to dinosaurs. There are two in this review: A plesiosaur, not "Plesiorus," was a prehistoric sea reptile, and a pterosaur, not "Pterosaurus," was a prehistoric flying reptile. Also the letter "B" in the word DUMB is printed in reverse in the book, but I imagine that's difficult if not impossible to do in a review. In any event I enjoyed this, especially mention of the word "genius."

Douglas Florian Dinothesaurus: Prehistoric Poems and Paintings; illus. by the author48 pp. Atheneum 3/09 isbn 978-1-4169-7978-4 $17.99(Intermediate, Middle School)

Beginning by defining “The Age of Dinosaurs” (“The dinosaurs / First lived outdoors / During the time Triassic”) and ending with their demise (“What made the dinosaurs die out? / Why don’t they still parade about?”), Florian rounds up all the usual prehistoric suspects (Brachiosaurus, Iguanodon, Triceratops) and adds a few outliers (the sea reptile Plesiorus, the flying reptile Pterosaurus) and lesser knowns (Minmi, Troodon). The twenty resultant verses are characterized by wordplay, mixed-media illustrations, and a scientific fact or two, emphasizing Florian’s genius for fusing sophisticated language, image, and science in ways both accessible and appealing. On Tyrannosaurus rex: “Its jaws were horrific. / Its profile distinct. / I find it terrific / That it’s T-rex-tinct.” And poor Stegosaurus: “Its brain was smaller than a plum. / Stegosaurus was quite DUMB.” In a link to the titular thesaurus, Florian fills a gray gouache Stegosaurus with a grid of rubberstamped synonyms (daft, dazed, witless, slow, thick, dunce). Seismosaurus, depicted as large enough to contain collages of sailing ships, may have been, as the appended “Glossarysaurus” tells us, the longest dinosaur that ever lived. Also appended is a list of dinosaur museums and fossil sites, a selected bibliography, and suggestions for further reading. b.c.

As Good As Anybody, Indeed!

2009-01-22T19:02:00.002-05:00

This just in:

"As Good As Anybody: Martin Luther King and Abraham Joshua Heschel's Amazing March Toward Freedom," (reviewed in the previous post) has been awarded the prestigious Sydney Taylor Award Gold Medal from the Association of Jewish Libraries, and “A is for Abraham,” was awarded the Silver Medal. This is the first time in the award's 41-year history that one author has been honored with their top two awards. The Sydney Taylor Award is the most coveted award for writers of Jewish children's literature. Isaac Bashevis Singer was the first award recipient.

Congratulations to Richard Michelson and the illustrator Raul Colon!

Martin Luther King Day

2009-01-19T12:11:00.007-05:00

Here's a new book for Martin Luther King Day: As Good As Anybody, Written by Richard Michelson and illustrated by Raul Colon. Michelson fluently connects two religious leaders who fought for social justice: Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. and Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel, who fled from Poland to America shortly before the Holocaust, and later became a part of the civil rights movement. Both the text and the art (Colon paints earthy colors for Dr.King's life and blue hues for Rabbi Heschel's) draw parallels between the lives of these two men. Both experienced hatred and racial discrimination, both were taught they were "Just as good as anybody," and both followed in their father's footsteps to become religious leaders. These two parallel lines merged when they walked together in the famous 1965 Freedom March from Selma to Montgomery, Alabama. How people can transcend their differences and work in harmony towards justice is tastefully shown in this handsome book.

Poetry Friday: Starred Review!

2009-01-16T14:51:00.010-05:00

Tyrannosaurus rex

Ty-ran-oh-SAW-rus REX (king of tyrant lizards)

Some 40-feet long.
Some 14-feet tall.
Its back limbs were strong.
Its front limbs were small.
Its eyesight was keen.
Its hunger voracious.
This creature was seen
In times called Cretaceous.
Its jaws were horrific.
Its profile distinct.
I find it terrific
That it’s T-rex-tinct.

My great editor, Andrea, just told me that Dinothesaurus is getting a starred review in Publishers Weekly. Yay!

*Dinothesaurus: Prehistoric Poems and Paintings

Douglas Florian. S&S/Atheneum,$17.99(56p) ISBN 978-1-4169-7978-4

Florian’s free-flowing, witty collection of poems and collages about dinosaurs is a giganotosaurus delight—perhaps his best work ever. The poems marry facts with a poet’s eye for detail: the Brachiosaurus was “longer than a tennis court” and the Ankylosaurus says, “We like spikes and we like scutes/ (Bony plates we wear as suits).” Small experts will appreciate the “Glossarysaurus” at the end, but the heart of the book is in its humor, the spontaneity of both illustrations and poems, and Florian’s slightly askew view of the Mesozoic creatures. A Tyrannosaurus rex skeleton spews cutout images of things a T. rex might actually have eaten, along with a tumble of other things (newspaper clippings, a boot, a building), while the text ends with a great pun (“I find it terrific/ That it’s T-rex-tinct.”). The tiny (20-inch) Micropachycephalosaurus stares up at a huge display of his enormous name spelled out phonetically, in illuminated caps and as a rhombus. Art and text will encourage aspiring paleontologists and poets to parse these pages again and again. Ages 6–up. (Mar.)

Poetry Friday

2009-01-09T11:28:00.005-05:00

Anastasia Suen is hosting Poetry Friday. Here is a poem from Oh, That's Ridiculous, Poems Selected by William Cole, with drawings by Tomi Ungerer

That Head

I suppose I've passed

him a hundred times,

but I always stop

for a minute

And look at his head,

that tragic head,

the head

with nobody in it.

Jerce Bullmer

Chas Addams Day

2009-01-07T23:29:00.008-05:00

I grew up with a strange book in my father's den: Homebodies by Charles Addams. It was macabre, gothic, and grotesque before Gorey, before Buffy. The ninety pages of this 1954 Simon & Schuster book are filled with the black humor of The New Yorker cartoonist, Charles Addams. It's said that as a child Addams would on ocassion wander into a graveyard, but he grew up in suburban New Jersey. I got to meet Mr. Addams in the yellow-walled New Yorker offices when I did cartoons for them in the late 1970's. He would sometimes give me a critique of my sketches before I went in to see Lee Lorenz, the cartoon editor. This only lasted a few weeks as I had mistakenly gone to the offices on Wednesdays, when the veteran cartoonists were there, and I was soon shuffled off to Tuesdays, when the "young Turks", such as Roz Chast and Robert Mankoff, were there. Speaking of Wednesday, his Addams family was later spun off into a not so grotesque TV comedy with Wednesday as the little girl and Pugsly as the pudgy little boy. Click on the picture to see the dreary detail, such as the pet alligator.

The caption reads: "Just the kind of day that makes you feel good to be alive!"

He always signed his work Chas Addams in dark script. Happy Birthday, Chas.

DINOTHESAURUS-First Review

2009-01-06T14:07:00.003-05:00

The first review of DINOTHESAURUS (March 2009 Simon & Schuster) has come in.
From Kirkus Reviews, here it is:

Florian, Douglas
DINOTHESAURUS: Prehistoric Poems and Paintings
Illus. by the author

In the fine tradition of Jack Prelutsky’s Tyrannosaurus Was a Beast, illustrated by Arnold Lobel (1988), a set of dinophile-pleasing verses penned by a poet with a rare knack for wordplay and silly rhymes finds apt visual setting fronting playful images of monsters rearing up from extinction to grin toothily at young viewers. Sandwiched between poems about the Age of Dinosaurs and its sudden end, Florian parades 18 creatures, from Pterosaurs (“They were not ptame. / They were ptenacious— / From the Ptriassic / Pto the Cretaceous.”) to T. Rex, then closes with an informative “Glossarysaurus,” plus museum and source lists. Spectacularly depicted (as is his frequent custom) on paper bags in crayon and collage, the poet’s dinos are easily recognizable despite being freely rendered and, often, semitransparent. Collage elements add to the visual excitement, often to great effect—a skeletal, iPod-sporting T. Rex prepares to chow down on a heap of cut-out dinosaur bits—and always with enormous playfulness. Children fixated on explicit gore may be left unmoved, but to everyone else this will be a dino-delight—especially when read aloud. (Picture book/poetry. 5-10)
Copyright 2009 Kirkus Reviews

Sneak peek: Baryonyx

2009-01-02T00:01:00.002-05:00

Illustration and poem copyright 2009 by Douglas Florian

To celebrate the new year, a new sneak peek from DINOTHESAURUS, coming this March.
Baryonyx, nicknamed claws, had a twelve-inch curved claw on each hand which it used to...well, you'll have to read the poem to find out:

Baryonyx

BARE-ee-ON-icks (heavy claw)

He had a huge and heavy claw

And crocodile-like skull.

A lashing, slashing, dino-saw,

A sharpie, never dull.

His claws and jaws and pointed teeth

Were fashioned to attack.

If Bary you should ever meet-

Ask him to scratch your back.

Mae West Monday

2008-12-29T13:07:00.003-05:00

Opportunity knocks for every man,

but you have to give a woman a ring.

Mae West

Poetry Friday

2008-12-26T10:24:00.005-05:00

Two poems about mortality, each funny in its own way.

On the Vanity of Earthly Greatness

by Arthur Guiterman

The tusks which clashed in mighty brawls

Of mastodons, are billiard balls.

The sword of Charlemagne the Just

Is Ferric Oxide, known as rust.

The grizzly bear, whose potent hug,

Was feared by all, is now a rug.

Great Caesar's bust is on the shelf,

And I don't feel so well myself.

Publication Date (from God's Silence)

by Franz Wright

One of the few pleasures of writing

is the thought of one's book in the hands of a kindhearted

intelligent person somewhere. I can't remember what the others

are right now.

I just noticed that it is my own private

National I Hate Myself and Want to Die Day

(which means the next day I will love my life

and want to live forever). The forecast calls

for a cold night in Boston all morning

and all afternoon. They say

tomorrow will be just like today,

only different. I'm in the cemetery now

at the edge of town, how did I get here?

A sparrow limps past on its little bone crutch saying

I am Federico García Lorca

risen from the dead—

literature will lose, sunlight will win, don't worry.

Poetry roundup is at The Miss Rumphius Effect.

Ideals are Like Stars

2008-12-24T01:41:00.009-05:00

Joseph Cornell, "Ideals are like stars, about 1957-58,

Smithsonian American Art Museum, 1984.124.71

Sequestered in a small frame house in Queens on Utopia Parkway, writing fan letters to the famous and glamorous, supporting his mother and invalid brother, selling fabric and appliances door to door, self-taught and, in his own words, "without intellectual equipment," there lived a hermetic visionary who created constellations of heavenly bodies from the scraps of secondhand "junk" shops, the ephemera of the 19th century, an Eden that ended with World War I. His name was Joseph Cornell and today is his birthday. Happy birthday, Joseph.

Mae West Monday

2008-12-22T15:49:00.003-05:00

"To err is human,

but if feels divine."

Mae West

Happy Hanukkah!

2008-12-21T18:37:00.006-05:00

Tonight is the first night of Hanukkah, the Festival of Lights. My all time favorite Hanukkah book is Moishe's Miracle, still in print in paperback. Poignantly written by Laura Krauss Melmid, and splendidly illustrated by David Slonim, this is the miraculous story of a poor couple struggling to make ends meet during the time of Hanukkah. Milkman Moishe owns only two cows ("Moo-ishe, Moo-oishe" they moo) but he gives away his milk and cream to the poor people of Wishniak.

His bitter wife Baila has no money to buy food and goodies for Hanukkah so she sends her husband to the barn . A kind stranger and a magical black frying pan, that only Moishe should use, come to the rescue in this tale of redemption and transformation. The illustrations glow with such light and warmth that you may need sunglasses. And the expressions on the character's faces captured by Slonim in his oil paintings are a treasure. There's also an explanation of Hanukkah in the back along with a glossary of Hebrew and Yiddish words.The book won the 2000 National Jewish Book Award for a picture book ( I was on the jury). And look for the mouse in the pictures. Click here to hear it read aloud on NPR

Where are we going, Walt Whitman?

2008-12-19T10:26:00.008-05:00

Photo: Poetryconnection.net

I first read the poems of Allen Ginsberg while in high school. In his small black book HOWL, Ginsberg changed the history of poetry and the history of America. This poem, A Supermarket in California, written in Berkeley, California in 1955, was an homage to his mentor Walt Whitman. I used a small font to preserve the line breaks. You can hear Ginsberg recite it at the poetry archive.

A Supermarket in California

by Allen Ginsberg

What thoughts I have of you tonight, Walt Whitman, for I walked
down the sidestreets under the trees with a headache self-conscious looking
at the full moon.
In my hungry fatigue, and shopping for images, I went into the neon
fruit supermarket, dreaming of your enumerations!
What peaches and what penumbras! Whole families shopping at
night! Aisles full of husbands! Wives in the avocados, babies in the tomatoes!
--and you, García Lorca, what were you doing down by the watermelons?
I saw you, Walt Whitman, childless, lonely old grubber, poking
among the meats in the refrigerator and eyeing the grocery boys.
I heard you asking questions of each: Who killed the pork chops?
What price bananas? Are you my Angel?
I wandered in and out of the brilliant stacks of cans following you,
and followed in my imagination by the store detective.
We strode down the open corridors together in our solitary fancy
tasting artichokes, possessing every frozen delicacy, and never passing the
cashier.

Where are we going, Walt Whitman? The doors close in a hour.
Which way does your beard point tonight?
(I touch your book and dream of our odyssey in the supermarket and
feel absurd.)
Will we walk all night through solitary streets? The trees add shade
to shade, lights out in the houses, we'll both be lonely.
Will we stroll dreaming of the lost America of love past blue automo-
biles in driveways, home to our silent cottage?
Ah, dear father, graybeard, lonely old courage-teacher, what America
did you have when Charon quit poling his ferry and you got out on a
smoking bank and stood watching the boat disappear on the black waters of
Lethe?

From Collected Poems 1947-1980 by Allen Ginsberg, published by Harper & Row. Copyright © 1984 by Allen Ginsberg.

Paul Klee: the Visible Man

2008-12-18T10:23:00.005-05:00

"Landscape with Yellow Birds" 1923 watercolor on blackened ground

Today is the birthday of Swiss painter Paul Klee. As a young artist Klee visited Tunisia. The experience was a turning point in his life and work as he became "one with color." He was perhaps the first major artist to connect directly with the purity, joy, and abandon of children's art in his small drawings, watercolors, and oil paintings. A teacher at the Bauhaus, Klee created a systematic and thorough Pedalogical Sketchbook, a vast study of all the pictorial elements of art. For Klee the inner world was as important as the outer visible world: "Art does not reproduce the visible; rather, it makes visible." In some 10,000 works he experimented with a wide variety of mediums, such as watercolor, oil paint, gouache, tempera, inks, muslin, gauze, and chalk, as a powerful means of expressing humor, fantasy, irony, poetry, and, at the end of his life, melancholy.

La Terre est bleue comme une orange

2008-12-15T19:43:00.008-05:00

"The Earth is blue like an orange"

is the first line of a poem by French surrealist poet Paul Éluard, whose birthday was yesterday. Éluard, born Eugène Émile Paul Grindel, was one of the founders of the Surrealist movement in France, but broke from the group when he joined the Communist Party. See the entire poem in its original French, and in English, here, thanks to the University of Toronto. The image above is a photograph entitled "Moonrise over Calder" and was taken by Piero Sierra and posted on Flickr.

Mae West Monday

2008-12-15T10:06:00.001-05:00

"I'd like to see Paris before I die.

Philadelphia will do."

Mae West

Sneak Peek #3

2008-12-13T22:13:00.011-05:00

Ankylosaurus
AN-kee-lo-SAW-rus (fused lizard)

Tough as tanks and hard as nails.
Heavy clubs swing from our tails.
We like spikes and we like skutes
(Bony plates we wear as suits).
We have heavy-armored skin--
Hey, but that's the skin we're in!

You've already seen the front jacket of DINOTHESAURUS (November 26th post), a detail of Spinosaurus on my masthead, so now here's the short poem and a detail of the art of Ankylosaurus. This 5-ton, 35 foot-long, heavily-armored herbivore had bony plates, sharp spikes, and a rough tough skin as defense against predators. So I depicted it as a tank, with treads, stars, and khaki green skin (nobody knows its real skin color). And it's coming right back at ya.
image and poem copyright 2009 Douglas Florian

Poetry Friday: original poem

2008-12-12T00:01:00.000-05:00

The Meter Reader

Today the meter reader came.

He found my meter rather lame.

I tore my meter off the wall-

Trochee, spondee, rhyme and all.

Emily

2008-12-10T17:18:00.011-05:00

Today is Emily Dickinson's birthday. The Emily Dickinson Museum has this gorgeous poster by Pennelope Dullaghan available. Largely ignored by publishers in her lifetime, Emily Dickinson created more than one thousand poems, some of which she gave to friends. She also wrote many pieces about travel, yet only traveled once in her lifetime. I find some of her poems almost unbearably sad, but not these two :

I'm nobody! Who are you?

Are you nobody, too?

Then there's a pair of us — don't tell!

They'd banish us, you know.

How dreary to be somebody!

How public, like a frog

To tell your name the livelong day

To an admiring bog

I never saw a moor,

I never saw the sea;

Yet know I how the heather looks,

And what a wave must be.

I never spoke with God,

Nor visited in heaven;

Yet certain am I of the spot

As if the chart were given.

Vanishing Point

2008-12-06T20:21:00.003-05:00

Seems a lot of people are vanishing in the publishing world, lately. So here's a poem by Hugh Mearns (1875-1965) to cheer things up a bit.

Antigonish

As I was going up the stair

I met a man who wasn't there!

He wasn't there again to-day!

I wish, I wish, he'd stay away!

Poetry Friday: ee cummings

2008-12-05T00:39:00.006-05:00

my sweet old etcetera
aunt lucy during the recent

war could and what
is more did tell you just
what everybody was fighting

for,
my sister

isabel created hundreds
(and
hundreds) of socks not to
mention shirts fleaproof earwarmers

etcetera wristers etcetera, my
mother hoped that

i would die etcetera
bravely of course my father used
to become hoarse talking about how it was
a privilege and if only he
could meanwhile my

self etcetera lay queitly
in the deep mud et

cetera
(dreaming,

et
cetera, of
Your smile
eyes knees and of your Etcetera)

Cowboys from Queens

2008-12-04T23:03:00.007-05:00

Today I joined Emily Benedek, P.G. Kain, and David Ezra Stein in a presentation at Fordham University's Annual Literary Tea. It was sitting room only and a great blast with much variety. All thanks to poet Bobbye Goldstein and Simon & Schuster.

Fellow neighbor from Queens, David Ezra Stein, had quite the buzz and awards last year with his book Leaves. And now he's got two new books out, The Nice Book, and Cowboy Ned & Andy . He explained to us how he got the idea for the book while on a plane home from Europe with his girlfriend. By the time he landed he had a new book but no more girlfriend. Love is fickle, art endures.

Perl Found

2008-12-03T23:54:00.003-05:00

Jill yesterday in her comment asked,
"What are they all looking at?" So here, Jill, is the answer. They are looking at the title character, Davy, trying to describe what it was like to see a real live bear at the zoo. Again, Susan Perl masters gesture and expression. Click on the image for detail

Lost Perl

2008-12-03T12:10:00.005-05:00

Kids ask me who is my favorite illustrator. Well one of my favorites growing up was Susan Perl, who died at 60 in 1983. I remember the Health-Tex ads she illustrated in the sixties that always had a multi-cultural group of kids pondering a question, such as "Why Am I Ticklish?". She also illustrated some children's books including the still available Little Popcorn. For elegance of line, body postures, and facial expressions her work had no equal. This picture (click on it) is from the word-birds of Davy McFifer, written by Barbara Klimowicz and published by Abingdon Press in 1970.

Mae West Monday

2008-12-01T00:10:00.003-05:00

It is better to be

looked over

than

overlooked.

Mae West

New Book!

2008-11-26T14:43:00.006-05:00

I've been doing this for thirty years but it's still a thrill when the first printed and bound book sits in my hands. I'd like to thank my awesome editor Andrea Welch, my diligent designers, Ann Bobco and Michael Mc Cartney ( I drove them nuts with changes), publisher Allyn Johnston, Mike Shoulders for suggesting the title, and Rubin Pfeffer of Simon & Schuster for making it all happen. The publication date is March 10th and I'll be blogging about it between now and then.
Now I gotta go walk my Iguanodon, Ignatz.

Writing Is Easy (part 4)

2008-11-26T09:18:00.003-05:00

I love being a writer. What I can't stand is the paperwork.
Peter De Vries

IONESCO NUMBER 99

2008-11-26T00:07:00.004-05:00

Today is the 99th birthday of Roumanian and French playwright and dramatist Eugene Ionesco. Known for his plays about insignificance (and outsignificance) such as Rhinoceros, Ionesco also wrote for his daughter a series of childrens books entitled Story Number 1, Story Number 2, etc. This is Etienne Delessert's (again?) illustration from Story Number 1, an absurd tale about a little girl named Josette, who has a nanny named Jacqueline and meets another little girl, named Jacqueline, who has a doll named Jacqueline, and an aunt named Jacqueline, well you get the picture. This book is "for children under three years of age," but I think it is for children under 103 years of age. It is long out of print and I'm not giving up my copy not even for 99 dollars.

Blogden Nash

2008-11-25T10:38:00.004-05:00

Here's one of my all time favorites: Ogden Nash's Zoo with gorgeous illustrations by Etienne Delessert. When I was a not-so-strapping young lad of 12 we moved from Long Island back to an apartment in New York City, a mere block from a library. It was there I "discovered" my favorite poet, Ogden Nash.
There's 54 poems about real and imaginary creatures in here, divided into 8 chapters, such as Creeps and Crawls and Tease the Cobra. Although these poems were written for magazines like The New Yorker and the Saturday Evening Post in the years between 1930 and 1971, none seem outdated (except for a reference to a Maidenform bra and the Andrews Sisters). Their wit and economy of means are classic. Here's The Mules

In the world of mules
There are no rules.

This poem got me thinking: maybe there is a rule for a mule. So I created this poem for my book mammalabilia

The Mule

Voice of the mule: bray
Hue of the mule: bay
Fuel of the mule: hay
Rule of the mule: stay

The audience in Nash's book is not strictly for children, as the vocabulary ( a "gamboling lamb", or "a person's posterior") and the humor is often adult. But there are enough simple ones here to make a child smile, if not laugh out loud.
What's surprising to me is that Nash worshipped the same rhyme scheme, AABB or simply AA, in almost every poem. People sometimes compare my poems to Shel Silverstein, but I'd rather reside in Nashville.

Think Pink

2008-11-24T12:07:00.010-05:00

This post is inspired by Pink Me http://pinkpicks.blogspot.com/

the pink-haired librarian who occasionaly drinks in my cafe.

Before my book bow wow meow meow was published I got a call from my intrepid editor. "Somebody doesn't like the pink jacket," she informed me. "Who's 'somebody'?" I inquired. "Barnes & Noble," was her reply. Why didn't B&N want a pink jacket? "Boys don't buy pink," was the answer. Never mind that many boys today wear pink, chew pink bubblegum, and may play baseball or handball with a pink rubber ball (Spauldines orPensky Pinkies we used to call them). Marketing was insistant, so I suggested that they show me alternate covers, which they did: a red one, and a chocolate brown one, among others. None seemed to work. Meanwhile I visited a small conference of about 30 librarians to share my poetry and painting. They unanimously suggested I "think pink," which I did.

So, in the end, thanks to the fortitude of my editor, the wisdom of librarians, and the flexibility of my marketing people, bow wow meow meow was printed with a bright pink jacket, and went on to sell a good number of copies at Barnes & Noble, a great number of copies to school and public librarians, garner three starred reviews, and win the first Center for Children's Books

Gryphon Award in 2004. And gryphons, as we all know, can be any color they want to be.

Poetically Correct

2008-11-24T11:15:00.002-05:00

Great news from NCTE: The illustrious industrious Lee Bennett Hopkins has won the NCTE Excellence in Poetry Award. BRAVO Lee!

Winning the 1995 Lee Bennett Hopkins Poetry Award with my beast feast got my career in first gear and I got to meet Lee at the dinner in Hershey, PA.

Look for me to review one of his many treasures soon.

The Babe & I

2008-11-23T19:24:00.003-05:00

The perfect Thanksgiving gift: The Babe & I by David A. Adler. This picture book masterfully weaves together three strands: The Great Depression, a father and son bonding by overcoming adversity, and Babe Ruth himself, as he makes a guest appearance. With historical accuracacy, great warmth, and the charming illustrations of Terry Widener, this book makes a fine thanks giving gift all year long!

Hats off to Harpo

2008-11-23T00:21:00.004-05:00

Today is the birthday of Harpo Marx.

Harpo got his stage name during a card game. The dealer (Art Fisher) called him "Harpo" because he played the harp.

"I was the same kind of father as I was a harpist - I played by ear. " Harpo Marx

2008-11-21T13:55:00.002-05:00

For Poetry Friday here's Richard Wibur's first poem (along with his drawing) in his 1973 book
OPPOSITES (Harcourt Brace Jovanovich)

What is the opposite of nuts?
It's soup! Let's have no ifs or buts.
In any suitable repast
The soup comes first, the nuts come last.
Or that is what sane folks advise;
You're nuts if you think otherwise.

Oh, That's Ridiculous!

2008-11-20T21:34:00.010-05:00

About twenty years ago I picked up a treasure at a flea market for a dollar: OH, THAT'S RIDICULOUS, with poems selected by William Cole and drawings by the irreverent Tomi Ungerer.

This is the hilarious book that pushed me into the world of children's poetry. William Cole was the gentleman who helped launch light verse into the mid-twentieth century, and today is his birthday. Cole was an early enthusiast of Shel Silverstein. This book was published by The Viking Press in 1972, two years before Silverstein's own big collection Where the Sidewalk Ends. I was fortunate enough to meet Mr. Cole at a Poetry Fest at Fordham University on the very day that Shel Silverstein died. Cole told me that he had a collection of several thousands books of light verse.

Here's a sample from the book, by an anonymous author:

There was a young lady of Spain/ Who was dreadfully sick on a train, / Not once but again,/ And again and again,/ And again and again and again.

Today my $1 copy is perhaps worth hundreds.

Oh, that's ridiculous!

lucky walkie-talkie

2008-11-20T00:01:00.000-05:00

Today is the birthday of Chester Gould, creater of Dick Tracy. Gould, while visiting his inventor friend Al Gross saw a wrist-watch two-way radio. This "walkie-talkie, " partially developed by Gross, inspired Gould to add a wrist radio for his comic strip character Dick Tracy.

As I tell kids, it pays to have good friends.

Rain Makes Applesauce

2008-11-17T12:23:00.000-05:00

One of my all-time favorite children's books is Rain Makes Applesauce, illustrated by my teacher at Queens College, the late great Marvin Bileck. Also a fine, fine artist, "Mr. Bileck," as we called him, didn't just draw, he caressed the paper with a variety of pencils and paints and the patience of a Saint, which he is, along with the insight of a seer, which he was.
His use of flowing flowering hand-drawn letters and expressive line was influential to me and many others budding artists blooming under his tree.
A Caldecott Honor book, it is now back in print.

Mae West Monday

2008-11-17T03:12:00.000-05:00

"I used to be Snow White, but I drifted." Mae West

Writing is Easy (part 3)

2008-11-17T00:49:00.000-05:00

In the latter years of Georges Simenon's prolific writing life, when he had already published close to 400 novels, Alfred Hitchcock was said to have telephoned, only to be told by Simenon's secretary that he couldn't be disturbed because he had just begun a new novel. Hitchcock, knowing that Simenon was capable of writing one novel -- or two or three -- every month, replied, ''That's all right, I'll wait.''

Excerpted from Deirdre Bair's review of Simenon, a Biography by Pierre Assouline, The New York Times.

Batty in Cincinnati

2008-11-14T15:40:00.000-05:00

Here I am at Mariemont Elementary School on election day doing my impression of a seagull. I also visited the Fairfax and Terrace Park Elementary schools in Cincinnati, stomping grounds of the talented Will Hillenbrand, illustrator of The House That Drac Built.

Photo courtesy Leigh Wilkins

Writing is Easy (Part 2)

2008-11-10T15:54:00.000-05:00

Leonard Cohen on writing the song/poem Hallelujah:
"I filled two notebooks and I remember being in the Royalton Hotel [in New York], on the carpet in my underwear, banging my head on the floor and saying, 'I can't finish this song."'

Pomes good! Me like!

2008-11-09T22:30:00.000-05:00

Adam Rex does it again, only better! It's full frontal funny including the flaps: Frankie wearing Adam Rex glasses.
FRANKENSTEIN TAKES The CAKE Indeed!

Joseph Cornell and Children

2008-11-09T22:01:00.000-05:00

Cornell was almost compulsively focused on children, to the point of presenting, in 1972, what was probably the first avant-garde art exhibition in New York for children only. At the Cooper Union gallery, Cornell displayed 26 boxes and collages at child’s-eye level, no more than three feet off the ground, and at the opening reception, children dined not on champagne and caviar but on cherry soda and brownies.

writing is easy!

2008-11-09T21:51:00.000-05:00

“Writing is easy: All you do is sit staring at a blank sheet of paper until drops of blood form on your forehead.” Gene Fowler