On Saturday, in my post
I Am Looking for a Poem About…#3, I invited blog readers to ask me to find a children’s poem on a specific topic or subject for them. Cheryl wrote: “I'd like to read a poem about a child flying. Not flying in an airplane, but just freely through the air/clouds. Do you know of one?”
Lines of a particular poem began running through my head--but I couldn’t remember the author or the title of it. After looking through a couple dozen of my children’s poetry books, I have found the poem,
I Can Fly. It was written by
Felice Holman and first published in her poetry book
At the Top of My Voice (Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1970). The book was illustrated by Edward Gorey.
The poem can also be found on
page 31 of the following book:
THE 20th CENTURY CHILDREN'S POETRY TREASURY
Selected by Jack Prelutsky
Illustrated by Meilo So
Alfred A. Knopf, 1999
Here is an excerpt from Felice Holman’s
I Can Fly:
I can fly, of course,
Very low,
Not fast,
Rather slow.
I spread my arms like wings,
Lean on the wind,
And my body zings
About.
Nothing showy--A few loopsAnd turns...Cheryl, I hope Holman’s poem fits the bill!
May I Help You Find a Poem?
It has been many months since I last did an I Am Looking for a Poem About…post. I thought it was about time to do one again. I think that it's especially fitting during National Poetry Month.
Today, tomorrow, and Monday you may ask me to look for a children's poem on a specific topic or subject. I will do my best to find poems for you. I will provide requesters with the titles of poems and titles of books in which the suggested poems can be found. I may have more than one poem suggestion for each requester. I have no idea how many requests will be made. I will definitely search high and low for poems for the first three requesters.
Here’s a link to my previous I Am Looking for a Poem About… and Here Is a Poem About… posts that I have done in the past at Wild Rose Reader.
Every day another life is lost. That person may not be physically dead, but their will to succeed and thrive may have been horribly impaired, if not broken altogether.
As a writer it is my pleasure to create lives filled with joy and happiness.
Though these people are often forced to overcome huge obstacles, I can make it possible. This is not always the case in real life. Domestic violence is one of the most horrible crimes ever perpetrated against another human being. I know. I've been there.
Many years ago, I met and fell in love with a beautiful man. Eyes the color of a summer sky and a smile that could melt ice in the Arctic. After a whirlwind engagement we were married. This time that should have been the happiest of my life became a nightmare. I had married an abuser--a drug abuser, a people abuser, and a life abuser.
I had only recently begun my journey as a writer and I found myself slipping deeper into my make believe worlds to escape the threats and insults inflicted upon me on a regular basis. Though I'd lived a life of love and encouragement from my family, I let that slip away. I grew deaf to the words of support they offered to me and I became blind to the abusive words hurled at me with such bitterness and rage.
I lived to write. I sat at my computer for hours on end, avoiding the physical contact of a man who dared to tell me I had no beauty or value to humanity. Day after day, I found myself going to work, only to dread coming home for another round of "You will never amount to anything!" I closed myself off from friends and family and sunk further into the depths of worthlessness.
Then one day I reached the bottom.
Finally succumbing to what surely must be the truth, I made the heart-wrenching decision to stop the charade of becoming a writer. I had no talent, I had no ambition, and I had no value to humanity. My muse had deserted me, leaving me empty and unfulfilled. Hadn't it?
I gathered all of my written words and research, accumulated over two years, and I angrily shoved them into garbage bags and carried them to the curb outside. Surely, this would be the answer. If I stopped kidding myself, I could spend more time devoting myself to becoming a better wife and person.
Distraught and broken, I said a prayer and fell into bed. The next morning I awoke with a clear head and a newfound determination.
I stumbled from my room and out to the curb to find everything gone. The words and characters I loved so dearly and who had never let me down had been stolen from me. It was, as I recall, my first epiphany. I had let another human being steal my heart and cast it aside like useless trash. It took some time, but with the support of several fellow writers and some very dear friends, I was able to find myself. I found the strength and the determination to rebuild my life.
As a single person, I have had many struggles, from working multiple jobs to begging food from friends. I have maintained my desire to write and touch people's lives with my words and characters. Everything I do now is for me. I am strong, I am brave, and I am successful. I don't have the money of kings, but what I do have is of far more value. I have the spirit of life.
My writing is a part of me, as much as my arms and legs. Though I know I could survive without any of them, I will fight to the death to keep them all. My body is my own and I find pride in it. My mind is also my own and I find peace in it.
The value of human life can never be measured. The wealth of love can never be diminished. No human has the right to steal another's spirit or desire and with the support of those we love, nothing is impossible.
There is good in every person and with the proper nurturing and faith, that goodness can be enhanced and shared. With love the value of human life can always be increased.
2007--
Today my life is very different. This piece was originally written several years ago and I could not be more pleased with how my life has turned out. I am now married again to a man who finds joy in respecting and loving me. His support is unconditional and has a profound effect on me as a person. Even in my newly found happiness with him, I have held firm to my independence.
I once let domestic violence rule my life and for that I have no excuse, but today I let joy and inner peace guide me. I still have bad days where I am unsure of my place, but those feelings are my own and no one else controls them, or me.
If you are in a situation that is violent or abusive, physically or emotionally, find help. I would never tell anyone to leave, not my place. But find help! Seek the peace you deserve and allow nothing less in your life. You are a human, with feelings and needs, and no other human has the right to control them.
© Karen L. Syed
Cheryl:
I have a poem about NOT flying in NIGHT GARDEN: Poems from the World of Dreams.
FLYING
In their dreams
my friends can fly.
They flap their arms
and soar like hawks.
I've never flown
except in planes.
I think I would be terrified
to find the ground lost
under me.
I like to go to sleep at nine,
curled up round
in my safe bed,
dreaming soft and fuzzy
things--
goose down dreams
cradling
my head.
I wrote the poem after talking to two friends who flew regularly (in their dreams). I so envied them...I did finally have a flying dream about a year after that book was published, and I remember thinking (during the dream), "But: I never fly!"
Janet,
NIGHT GARDEN was one of the first poetry books I looked through. Thanks for leaving your poem for Cheryl.
I can't recall ever having a flying dream.
Perfect! I *love* it. Thank you! It's such a feel good poem for me. I wanted to fly when I was little. Parts of me still do. :)
And Janet, I understand feeling afraid to fly. Some things that we can imagine doing might be scary in real life.... though they might be exhilarating, too. :)