Low Poem, High Poem, Wet Poem, Dry Poem

No, I'm not trying to be Dr. Seuss-ish. It's National Poetry Month and I wanted to share a fun activity I've done with my kids and grandkids over the years. It all started with my third child who jumped before she walked and quit taking naps when she was one year old. We call it . . .

Poem-Jumping!

Materials needed are two jumping literature lovers, a trampoline, and some good rhythmic poem-jumping poems. All we do is jump high and and low, often holding hands, as we recite poems together (beginning with title and author). We get our exercise, have fun, share, and memorize classic rhymes and poetry in the process.

As for poems wet and dry, sometimes poem-jumping books get left outside, alternately getting soaked from rain or the sprinklers and bleached by the sun. Hence, our favorite poetry books have seen better days. Shown are volumes one and two of an old Childcraft set printed in 1949 we acquired secondhand way back when. But still readable! (The feet in the photo are mine and five-year-old Jane's, daughter of the daughter mentioned above.)

My youngest, now with two kids of her own, just presented me with a new copy of this Little Golden Book she remembered we poem-jumped with when she was little. Thanks, Lili!

How do you know a good poem-jumping poem when you see one? Try it out! If the poem lends itself to any sort of actions, all the better.

Here are some of our favorites over the years.

Singing Time, Rose Fyleman
The Squirrel, Anon
I'm Glad, Anon
Once I Saw a Little Bird, Mother Goose
After a Bath, Aileen Fisher
Eletelephony, Laura E. Richards
I'd Like to Be A Lighthouse, Rachel Field
The Sea Shell , Amy Lowell
The Little Elf, John Kendrick Bangs
There Was a Little Girl, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
The Swing and My Shadow, Robert Louis Stevenson


Here's one you can memorize right now:

Clouds by Christina Rosetti

White sheep, white sheep, on a blue hill,
When the wind stops, you all stand still.
When the wind blows, you walk away slow.
White sheep, white sheep, where do you go?

Happy poem-jumping from Blue Hill!