Food for the Soul-Poems

"If  I read a book and it makes my whole body so cold that no fire can ever warm me, I know that is poetry" 

-Emily Dickinson.  

Poetry Sticks

Cook's Notes: This photo shows 120 poem sticks I made recently for poetry day lunch at AAUW.   

David Bengtson, a poet from Central Minnesota with his wife Marilyn came up with this creative idea to promote poetry. In fact he has made and given away more than 8,300 Poems-on Sticks. He first got started with his poetry give away at the Minnesota State Fair.
This was my original posting in 2012 about David's ingenious idea. 
http://sockfairies.blogspot.com/2012/04/poetry-on-stick.html

Ingredients:

Poems

Large craft sticks (from the Dollar store)  

double stick tape

Directions:

Choose a variety of poems on different topics written by your favorite poets.

Tape each poem on a stick.

Be creative in how you display poem on a stick e.g. flower pots, vases or at each place settings for a lunch or dinner.

Encourage recipient to read their poem stick out loud and then share their poem stick with a friend.   
Some creative ways to display poetry sticks include:

The artificial flower and poem were anchored in a piece of styrofoam and each one was placed at an individual place setting.

Two of my many favorite poems
Despite the somber note of this poem it is pure perfection to me where Dickinson skillfully uses alliteration, anaphora, paradox and personification. The poem personifies Death as a gentleman caller who takes a leisurely carriage ride with the poet to her grave. She also personifies immortality.

Because I Could Not Stop For Death

by Emily Dickinson 

Because I could not stop for Death –
He kindly stopped for me –
The Carriage held but just Ourselves –
And Immortality.

We slowly drove – He knew no haste
And I had put away
My labor and my leisure too,
For His Civility –

We passed the School, where Children strove
At Recess – in the Ring –
We passed the Fields of Gazing Grain –
We passed the Setting Sun –

Or rather – He passed Us –
The Dews drew quivering and Chill –
For only Gossamer, my Gown –
My Tippet – only Tulle –

We paused before a House that seemed
A Swelling of the Ground –
The Roof was scarcely visible –
The Cornice – in the Ground –

Since then – 'tis Centuries – and yet
Feels shorter than the Day
I first surmised the Horses' Heads
Were toward Eternity –

Hungry for Poetry
By Ralph Fletcher

First I saw him chew
a tender Japanese haiku.

He ate a foot-long sonnet
with mustard seed spread upon it.

He downed a bag of ripe cinquains
while walking in the pouring rain.

He gulped an epic, chomped an ode,
wolfed a couplet to cure his cold.

He munched so many limericks,
they made him absolutely sick.

He tried a plate of fresh free verse;
but all that did was make things worse.

He took some onomatopoeia
to cure a case of diarrhea.

He ate a poem of sixteen lines,
and after that he felt just fine.