Posts filed under ‘.titles’

Kamishibai Kasajizou

July 11, 2020 at 8:25 pm Leave a comment

I Live in Tokyo

by Mari Takabayashi

Have you ever been to Tokyo, Japan? Far away, in the Pacific Ocean, Tokyo is a busy city of color, activity, celebrations, gigantic buildings, and much more. Seven-year-old Mimiko lives in Tokyo, and here you can follow a year’s worth of fun, food and festivities in Mimiko’s life, month by month. Learn the right way to put on a kimono and see Mimiko’s top ten favorite meals—just try not to eat the pages featuring delicious wagashi!

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July 9, 2020 at 8:25 pm Leave a comment

For the Children

by Gary Snyder

The rising hills, the slopes,
of statistics
lie before us.
the steep climb
of everything, going up,
up, as we all
go down.

In the next century
or the one beyond that,
they say,
are valleys, pastures,
we can meet there in peace
if we make it.

To climb these coming crests
one word to you, to
you and your children:

stay together
learn the flowers
go light

July 6, 2020 at 8:25 pm Leave a comment

Eviction

by Eavan Boland
NEW YORKER POEMS

Back from Dublin, my grandmother
finds an eviction notice on her door.
Now she is in court for rent arrears.
The lawyers are amused.
These are the Petty Sessions,
this is Drogheda, this is the Bank Holiday.
Their comments fill a column in the newspaper.
Was the notice well served?
Was it served at all?
Is she a weekly or a monthly tenant?
In which one of the plaintiffs’ rent books
is she registered?
The case comes to an end, is dismissed.
Leaving behind the autumn evening.
Leaving behind the room she entered.
Leaving behind the reason I have always
resisted history.
A woman leaves a courtroom in tears.
A nation is rising to the light.
History notes the second, not the first.
Nor does it know the answer as to why
on a winter evening
in a modern Ireland
I linger over the page of the Drogheda
Argus and Leinster Journal, 1904,
knowing as I do that my attention has
no agency, none at all. Nor my rage.

July 5, 2020 at 8:25 pm Leave a comment

What to the Slave is the Fourth of July?

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July 5, 2020 at 7:05 am Leave a comment

Dear Ugly Sisters


by Laura Mucha

Tonight I fancy a flight,
so I shuffle my short feathers
and jump.

Bread has been baked, veggies are chopped,
salt in the pan – kitchen’s been mopped,

cleared up the bathroom, cleaned up the sink,
washed all your socks – still really stink,

ironed the laundry, folded the sheets,
serviced the car – here’s the receipt,

dog for a walk, cat to the vet,
married a wonderful prince that I met,

leaving tonight, so good luck with the chores,
dropping my apron and keys by the door.

FROM
CINDERELLA

July 4, 2020 at 8:25 pm Leave a comment

Caribbean Moon

A rum-lime honey sing a magical tune
Found her underneath the Caribbean Moon
Wind is blowin’ in the coconut tree
Blowin’ the moonlight over you and me
Hey Caribbean moon yellow yellow
Caribbean moon yellow yellow
Caribbean moon yellow yellow
Caribbean moon shine all night
Calypso singer singin’ in the sun
Sing about the rivers of Babylon
Rasta music, Caribbean sea
Come on everybody sing the tune with me
Hey Caribbean moon yellow yellow
Caribbean moon yellow yellow
Caribbean moon…

July 3, 2020 at 8:25 pm Leave a comment

Build A House

You brought me here to build your house, build your house, build your house
You brought me here to build your house and grow your garden fine

I laid the brick and built your house, built your house, built your house
I laid the brick and built your house, raised the plants so high

And when you had the house and land, the house and land, the house and land
And when you had the house and land, then you told me “go.”

I found a place to build my house, build my house, build my house
I found a place to build my house since I couldn’t go back home

You said I couldn’t build a house, build a house, build a house
You said I couldn’t build a house, so you burned it down

So then I traveled far and wide, far and wide, far and wide
And then I traveled far and wide until I found a home

I learned your words and wrote a song, wrote a song, wrote a song
I learned your words and wrote a song to put my story down

But then you came and took my song, took my song, took my song
But then you came and took my song, playing it for your own

I took my bucket, lowered it down, lowered it down, lowered it down
I took my bucket, lowered it down, the well will never run dry.

You brought me here to build a house, build a house, build a house
You brought me here to build a house. I will not be moved.

No, I will not be moved. No, I will not be, I will not be, I will not be moved.

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July 2, 2020 at 8:25 pm Leave a comment

Answer July

by Emily Dickinson

Answer July –
Where is the Bee –
Where is the Blush –
Where is the Hay?

Ah, said July –
Where is the Seed –
Where is the Bud –
Where is the May –
Answer Thee – Me –

Nay – said the May –
Show me the Snow –
Show me the Bells –
Show me the Jay!

Quibbled the Jay –
Where be the Maize –
Where be the Haze –
Where be the Bur?
Here – said the Year –

July 1, 2020 at 8:25 pm Leave a comment

Anthem

by Leonard Cohen

The birds they sang
at the break of day
Start again
I seem to hear them say
Do not dwell on what
has passed away
or what is yet to be.
Ah the wars they will
be fought again
The holy dove
She will be caught again
bought and sold
and bought again
the dove is never free.
Ring the bells that still can ring
Forget your perfect offering
There is a crack
A crack in everything
That’s how the light gets in.
We asked for signs
and the signs were sent:
the birth betrayed
the marriage spent
Yeah the widowhood
of every single government
signs for all to see
I can’t run no more
with that lawless crowd
Ah but they’ve summoned, they’ve summoned up
a thundercloud
and they’re going to hear from me.
Ring the bells that still can ring
Forget your perfect offering
There is a crack
A crack in everything
That’s how the light gets in
You can add up the parts
but you won’t have the sum
You can strike up the march
on your little broken drum
Every heart, every heart
to love will come
but like a refugee
Ring the bells that still can ring
Forget your perfect offering
There is a crack, a crack in everything
That’s how the light gets in.
Ring the bells that still can ring
Forget your perfect offering
There is a crack, a crack in everything
That’s how the light gets in
That’s how the light gets in
That’s how the light gets in

July 1, 2020 at 8:25 pm Leave a comment

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