Free Verse

Title: Where the Sidewalk Ends

Author: Shel Silverstein

There is a place where the sidewalk ends

And before the street begins,
And there the grass grows soft and white,
And there the sun burns crimson bright,
And there the moon-bird rests from his flight
To cool in the peppermint wind.

Let us leave this place where the smoke blows black

And the dark street winds and bends.
Past the pits where the asphalt flowers grow
We shall walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And watch where the chalk-white arrows go
To the place where the sidewalk ends.

Yes we'll walk with a walk that is measured and slow,

And we'll go where the chalk-white arrows go,
For the children, they mark, and the children, they know
The place where the sidewalk ends.
 Sonnet

Title: Sonnet for a Red Lily

Author: J. Patrick Lewis

Of lilies, though a single one stands tall,

The crimson lily shows itself to you.
What stories may its ruby petals call,
For flowers have secrets that we never knew.

In gardens wild and blooming with the sun,

This lily lifts its voice above the rest.
A moment bright and fiery, then it’s done,
But in its heart, it lives as love’s request.

So bloom, dear flower, in your brightest red,

And let the world take notice of your grace.
The petals speak when other words have fled,
And in your presence, time will slow its pace.
 Haiku

Title: Rain
Author: Jack Prelutsky

Raindrops on the roof

Plip, plop, they gently whisper
Nature's lullaby.

Limerick

Title: There Was a Young Lady of Dune

Author: Edward Lear

There was a young lady of Dune,

Who danced by the light of the moon;
Her dance was so bright,
It lit up the night,
And ended with quite a loud tune.
 Narrative Poem
Title: The Highwayman
Author: Alfred Noyes

The wind was a torrent of darkness among the gusty trees,

The moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas,
The road was a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor,
And the highwayman came riding—
Riding—riding—
The highwayman came riding, up to the old inn-door.

He'd a French cocked-hat on his forehead, a bunch of lace at his chin,

A coat of the claret velvet, and breeches of brown doe-skin;
They fitted with never a wrinkle: his boots were up to the thigh!
And he rode with a jeweled twinkle,
His pistol butts a-twinkle,
His rapier hilt a-twinkle, under the jeweled sky.

Over the cobbles he clattered and clashed in the dark inn-yard,

He tapped with his whip on the shutters, but all was locked and barred;
He whistled a tune to the window, and who should be waiting there
But the landlord's black-eyed daughter,
Bess, the landlord's daughter,
Plaiting a dark red love-knot into her long black hair.
And dark in the dark old inn-yard a stable-wicket creaked
Where Tim, the ostler listened; his face was white and peaked;
His eyes were hollows of madness, his hair like mouldy hay,
But he loved the landlord's daughter,
The landlord's red-lipped daughter,
Dumb as a dog he listened, and he heard the robber say—

"One kiss, my bonny sweetheart, I'm after a prize tonight,

But I shall be back with the yellow gold before the morning light;
Yet, if they press me sharply, and harry me through the day,
Then look for me by moonlight,
Watch for me by moonlight,
I'll come to thee by moonlight, though hell should bar the way."

He rose upright in the stirrups; he scarce could reach her hand,

But she loosened her hair i' the casement! His face burnt like a brand
As the black cascade of perfume came tumbling over his breast;
And he kissed its waves in the moonlight,
(O, sweet black waves in the moonlight!)
Then he tugged at his rein in the moonlight, and galloped away to the West.
They said no word to the landlord, they drank his ale instead,
But they gagged his daughter and bound her to the foot of her narrow bed;
Two of them knelt at her casement, with muskets at their side!
There was death at every window;
And hell at one dark window;
For Bess could see, through her casement, the road that he would ride.

They had tied her up to attention, with many a sniggering jest;

They had bound a musket beside her, with the barrel beneath her breast!
"Now, keep good watch!" and they kissed her.
She heard the dead man say—
Look for me by moonlight;
Watch for me by moonlight;
I'll come to thee by moonlight, though hell should bar the way!

She twisted her hands behind her; but all the knots held good!
She writhed her hands till her fingers were wet with sweat or blood!
They stretched and strained in the darkness, and the hours crawled by like
years,
Till, now, on the stroke of midnight,
Cold, on the stroke of midnight,
The tip of one finger touched it! The trigger at least was hers!
The tip of one finger touched it; she strove no more for the rest!
Up, she stood up to attention, with the barrel beneath her breast,
She would not risk their hearing; she would not strive again;
For the road lay bare in the moonlight,
Blank and bare in the moonlight,
And the blood of her veins in the moonlight throbbed to her love's refrain.

Tlot-tlot; tlot-tlot! Had they heard it? The horse-hoofs ringing clear;
Tlot-tlot, tlot-tlot, in the distance? Were they deaf that they did not hear?
Down the ribbon of moonlight, over the brow of the hill,
The highwayman came riding,
Riding, riding!
The red-coats looked to their priming! She stood up, straight and still.

Tlot-tlot, in the frosty silence! Tlot-tlot, in the echoing night!

Nearer he came and nearer! Her face was like a light!
Her eyes grew wide for a moment; she drew one last deep breath,
Then her finger moved in the moonlight,
Her musket shattered the moonlight,
Shattered her breast in the moonlight and warned him—with her death.
He turned; he spurred to the West; he did not know who stood
Bowed, with her head o'er the musket, drenched with her own red blood!
Not till the dawn he heard it, and his face grew grey to hear
How Bess, the landlord's daughter,
The landlord's black-eyed daughter,
Had watched for her love in the moonlight, and died in the darkness there.

Back, he spurred like a madman, shrieking a curse to the sky,

With the white road smoking behind him and his rapier brandished high!
Blood-red were his spurs i' the golden noon; wine-red was his velvet coat,
When they shot him down on the highway,
Down like a dog on the highway,
And he lay in his blood on the highway, with the bunch of lace at his throat.

And still of a winter's night, they say, when the wind is in the trees,
When the moon is a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas,
When the road is a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor,
A highwayman comes riding—
Riding—riding—
A highwayman comes riding, up to the old inn-door.

Over the cobbles he clatters and clangs in the dark inn-yard;

He taps with his whip on the shutters, but all is locked and barred;
He whistles a tune to the window, and who should be waiting there
But the landlord's black-eyed daughter,
Bess, the landlord's daughter,
Plaiting a dark red love-knot into her long black hair.
 Poetry
Title: Dream Variations
Author: 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.
 Rhyme

Humpty Dumpty
Author: Traditional

Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall,

Humpty Dumpty had a great fall.
All the king's horses and all the king's men
Couldn't put Humpty together again.

Calligram

Title: Butterfly
Author: Paul Fleischman

A butterfly flits and drifts,

Swirling like a breeze.
Wings of paper, heart of air,
Light as a whisper, barely there.
 Legend
Title: The Legend of Sleepy Hollow
Author: Washington Irving

In the bosom of one of those spacious coves which indent the eastern shore
of the Hudson, at that broad expansion of the river known by the ancient
Dutch navigators as the Tappan Zee, there lies a small market town or rural
port, which by some is called Greensburgh, but which is more generally and
properly known by the name of Tarry Town. This name was given, we are
told, in former days, by the good housewives of the adjacent country, from
the inveterate propensity of their husbands to linger about the village tavern
on market days.

Be that as it may, I do not vouch for the fact, but merely advert to it, for the
sake of being precise and authentic. Not far from this village, perhaps about
two miles, there is a little valley or rather lap of land among high hills, which
is one of the quietest places in the whole world. A small brook glides through
it, with just murmur enough to lull one to repose; and the occasional whistle
of a quail, or tapping of a woodpecker, is almost the only sound that ever
breaks in upon the uniform tranquillity.

I recollect that when a stripling, my first exploit in squirrel-shooting was in a

grove of tall walnut-trees that shades one side of the valley. I had wandered
into it at noontime when all nature is peculiarly quiet, and was startled by the
roar of my own gun, as it broke the sabbath stillness around and was
prolonged and reverberated by the angry echoes. If ever I should wish for a
retreat, whither I might steal from the world and its distractions, and dream
quietly away the remnant of a troubled life, I know of none more promising
than this little valley.
From the listless repose of the place, and the peculiar character of its
inhabitants, who are descendants from the original Dutch settlers, this
sequestered glen has long been known by the name of Sleepy Hollow,
and its rustic lads are called the Sleepy Hollow Boys throughout all the
neighboring country. A drowsy, dreamy influence seems to hang over the
land, and to pervade the very atmosphere. Some say that the place was
bewitched by a high German doctor during the early days of the
settlement; others, that an old Indian chief, the prophet or wizard of his
tribe, held his pow-wows there before the country was discovered by
Master Hendrick Hudson.

Certain it is, the place still continues under the sway of some witching
power that holds a spell over the minds of the good people, causing them
to walk in a continual reverie. They are given to all kinds of marvelous
beliefs; are subject to trances and visions, and frequently see strange
sights, and hear music and voices in the air. The whole neighborhood
abounds with local tales, haunted spots, and twilight superstitions; stars
shoot and meteors glare oftener across the valley than in any other part of
the country, and the night-mare, with her whole ninefold, seems to make it
the favorite scene of her gambols.
 Myth
Title: The Story of Icarus
Author: Greek Mythology

Daedalus, the master craftsman, was imprisoned with his son,

Icarus, in the labyrinth on the island of Crete by King Minos.
Desperate to escape, Daedalus conceived a daring plan. He
fashioned wings for himself and his son out of feathers and
wax. Before they took flight, Daedalus gave Icarus strict
instructions: “Do not fly too high, or the sun's heat will melt the
wax. And do not fly too low, or the sea’s dampness will clog the
wings.”

Excited by the prospect of freedom, Icarus barely listened. As

they took to the sky, soaring high above the earth, Icarus was
filled with exhilaration. He flew higher and higher, defying his
father's warnings. Daedalus, cautious and sensible, stayed
closer to the sea, shouting at Icarus to come down, but his cries
were drowned by the wind.

Icarus, intoxicated by the thrill of flight and the beauty of the

heavens, soared too close to the sun. The heat melted the wax
that held his wings together, and the feathers fluttered away.
Icarus, now helpless, plummeted into the sea below and
drowned. The waters where he fell were named the Icarian Sea
in his memory.
 Fairy
Title: Cinderella
Author: Brothers Grimm
Once upon a time, there lived a kind and beautiful girl named
Cinderella. She lived with her wicked stepmother and two
stepsisters, who treated her as nothing more than a servant.
Cinderella was forced to work all day, scrubbing the floors and
cleaning the hearth, while her stepsisters wore fine clothes and
went to balls.

One day, an invitation arrived from the king's palace—there

was to be a grand ball, and every maiden in the kingdom was
invited, for the prince was seeking a bride. Cinderella’s
stepsisters eagerly prepared for the ball, but Cinderella was
forbidden to go. Heartbroken, she sat by her mother’s grave,
weeping. Suddenly, a fairy godmother appeared. With a wave
of her wand, she transformed Cinderella’s ragged clothes into a
stunning gown, and on her feet, she placed glass slippers that
sparkled in the moonlight. She even turned a pumpkin into a
grand carriage to take her to the ball.

At the ball, the prince fell in love with Cinderella the moment he
saw her, and they danced all night. But as the clock struck
midnight, Cinderella remembered her godmother’s warning that
the spell would break at that time. She fled from the palace,
leaving behind one glass slipper. The prince searched the
kingdom for the owner of the slipper, and when he found
Cinderella, the shoe fit perfectly, and they were married soon
after.
 Fable

Title: The Tortoise and the Hare

Author: Aesop

Once, a hare made fun of a tortoise for being slow. “Do you
ever get anywhere with those short legs of yours?” the hare
teased. The tortoise, tired of being mocked, challenged the hare
to a race. Amused, the hare agreed.

When the race began, the hare dashed off, leaving the tortoise
far behind. Confident of his win, the hare stopped to rest under
a tree and fell asleep. Meanwhile, the tortoise kept moving,
slow and steady, never stopping to rest.

When the hare woke up, he saw the tortoise nearing the finish
line. The hare raced as fast as he could, but it was too late. The
tortoise crossed the finish line and won the race.

“Slow and steady wins the race,” said the tortoise with a smile.
 Epic
Title: The Odyssey
Author: Home
Sing to me of the man, Muse, the man of twists and turns
driven time and again off course, once he had plundered
the hallowed heights of Troy. Many cities of men he saw and
learned their minds,
many pains he suffered, heartsick on the open sea,
fighting to save his life and bring his comrades home.

But he could not save them from disaster, hard as he strove—

the recklessness of their own ways destroyed them all,
the blind fools, they devoured the cattle of the Sun
and the Sungod wiped from sight the day of their return.

Launch out on his story, Muse, daughter of Zeus,

start from where you will—sing for our time too.
By now, all the survivors, all who avoided headlong death
were safe at home, escaped the wars and waves.

Only Odysseus still hungered for home and wife,

her heart unbreakable, never lost hope, always striving
to reach Ithaca, his own land. But there were gods who stood
against him,
and his journey would take him across distant seas and
dangerous lands,
encountering monsters, tempests, and temptations
that would test his resolve at every turn.
Compilation of Children
and Adolescent
literature

Submitted by: Maria Antonieth Gayatgay Collamat

Submitted to: Mrs. Odessa Mae Posadas