The Continuing Case for Keats

An excellent article about the importance of John Keats

http://voices.yahoo.com/the-continuing-case-keats-11305434.html?cat=10

The Jeannette Winterson quote at the end is particularly good.

The Dancer and The Felon

The dolphin wore tights,
Pelican held a melon,
They were caught in the act,
The dancer and the felon.

They'd met under moonlight
Many lifetimes ago
She was dancing on stage,
Whilst his crimes had hit a low.

He was upset they'd argued
At who's turn is was to pay,
"I'm a pelican not a tern.
No matter what they say!"

Angry he cried out,
"I don't understand your purpose."
She leapt on the line,
"I'm a dolphin not a porpoise."

They'd left without paying,
And he took with him the melon.
That's when the police caught up
with the dancer and the felon.

Infamy for the picture
That flashed across news stands,
Tights pulled over dolphins head
And a melon in pelican's hands.

Madder than a hatter (Why are hatters mad?)

Ideas for use in class at the bottom

Miss Lotte

That Miss Lotte who was nuts;
I mean completely round the bend.
She’d wear socks on her hands
And wave them at her friends.
She’d put her dress on backwards
And odd shoes on each foot.
It was definitely more than loose,
A screw was missing from her nut.

That Miss Lotte who was loopy;
I mean completely round the twist.
She said she new double dutch
And could converse with the fish.
She ate her dinner in the bath
And drank the water from the loo.
While all around her said, she was
Completely crackers and cuckoo.

That Miss Lotte who was balmy;
I mean gaga, crazy and mad.
Told the children they could riot
In the lessons that they had.
Said they should dance on the table,
Shout out and have a laugh.
But they stood open mouthed and knowing
She was noodle brained and daft.

That Miss Lotte who is bog-eyed
Is jam-headed and mungo-jerried,
Over the rainbow, out of her mind,
Tap-doo-lally and wholly wellied.
She is actually very kind.
Although not her only feature:
That Miss Lotte who is bananas,
Is the world’s greatest teacher.


Ideas for Teaching 
  1. Identify the words that rhyme. use them to look at phonemes with the same sounds but different spellings e.g. foot and nut
  2. Draw a picture for each verse (have children work in pairs or threes to do this.
  3. Make a list of the words for mad/crazy
  4. Make up your own words for crazy. Try finishing these phrases. (if you get stuck add food types in the spaces)
  • Mad as a ...
  • ... - headed
  • ... - brained

School Poetry: Retrospective - Jerricho Jones


Jerricho Jones

Jerricho Jones dances like a washing machine.
Watching him is like your clothes getting cleaned.
Whether upon his toes or down on his knees,
His trousers stay straight without even a crease.
What turns him on? What makes him spin?
Is a thumping vibration from deep down within.
And then with a tumble at the end of the dance
This cycle will end with him in a trance
And the leaving crowd all wishing in droves
That their colour was as bright as Jerricho Jones

2 Years 5 Months (Learning the Aphabet)


 A, B, C, D,
Es a big headed bee
Ache Eye Jesus is okay
Eleven men and then the pope
Queueing for sweet tea
You are doubled over
Asking for Y and Z

School Poetry: Retrospective - Our Science Teacher


Our Science Teacher

Mr Lawrence lurches,
Judders, skitters about.
Grasping arms – upheld,
Strangely fleshed out.
A daily thriller dance
As he doles out our work.
Making test tube brews
With a swivel and a jerk.
But when he speaks science
He sparks into life,
Talk of electricity,
Dissection and ‘the knife’.
And he’ll mutter about
Reanimation
Which isn't on our
Examination,
But,
Despite the bolts on his neck
And a square patchwork head
Our Science teacher
Is truly dead good.

School Poetry: Retrospective - Goblin Under the Stairs & Little Monsters


Goblin under the Stairs


When I go to get the register,
There’s a goblin under the stairs.
He’s there every time I go past
And my teacher doesn’t care.
He has a big domed forehead,
Sharp, yellow, pointed teeth.
And when I have to go up,
He tries to grab me from beneath.
He has speckled almond eyes
And crescent moons for lids.
He’s always there peeping out
Looking for us kids.
But I’m really brave;
Make myself race past.
He won’t bite my ankles
Coz I can run too fast.

 And the response:

Little Monsters

The little monsters’ arrival
Wakes me from my sleep.
Their croaking and caterwauling
Makes me peep and peep.
Cooked and cacky skin with
Squashed features tightly held.
Fidget and fleet of foot,
Thumbing faces when they’re bold.
Even though they’re ugly,
And they hop and hop,
I’d really like to play with them,
I have to make them stop.
So I wait patiently,
Which is difficult for my kind,
Then I’ll grab their ankles
And bite them so they’re mine.

School Poetry: Retrospective - My Beautiful Brother



My Beautiful Brother


The teacher in assembly made a rallying call:
“It doesn’t matter how old, big or small,
A goalkeeper is needed for the school football team
And this year the cup is our ultimate dream.”

My hand shot up, confident of the answer,
“My brother will play and wants to be a goalkeeper.”
Many a teacher’s eyebrow was raised at my offer.
“Tell him the trial, is on the school field later.”

Lucky it was dark; an early winter’s night,
Still coach was surprised when he first caught sight
Of my beautiful brother in his brazil-gold kit.
And then cat-like agility made him the right fit.

He rescued the season and took us quite far
Keeping clean sheets’ he became the team star
And bottle juggling skills, made him a safe bet
With disbelieving looks, this legend kept our net.

We got all the way through, into the cup final,
With my brother’s goal keeping proving quite vital.
All the children, at our school, got quite excited
For now we were facing: The Mighty United.

Our team lined up with my brother on the end.
It looked like a game where we’d have to defend.
Straight from the start, United were on the attack
Causing save after save from us at the back.

Till United were befuddled by my brother’s long throw.
His accurate aim put our striker through on goal.
The ball flew true into the back of the net.
We were one nil up with only five minutes left.


Then the worst: Ronaldo came through on goal.
If he scored now I feared what was to follow.
And out came my brother; a wailing one tooth
With a pink puffy face not yet in his youth

In pampers at the weekend but ready for the test,
He slid in for the tackle and came out the best.
My immense baby brother simply took the ball
My two year old wonder toddling six feet tall

As the whistle went and we’d won the game,
The crowd started to chant my brother’s name.
Putting in his dummy, he had nothing to say
So took my mother’s hand and she led him away.

School Poetry: Retrospective - Careers

Careers


I was a singing sensation.
An international star.
Sang boy band ballads;
Fans flocked from afar.
I was pop chart famous;
A platinum selling record deal.
When I left school,
That’s what life was like for me.

Then I became a wrestler
When muscles made me hard.
Named ‘The Mad Mauler’
I fought through out the world.
But sadly I was banned
For a move called ‘Cut Free’.
When I got bigger,
That’s what life was like for me.

I decided to be dangerous
Become a pirate all-at-sea.
Stealing and a-looting,
Known everywhere as Mad MacDee.
But soon I was wanted,
A big dollar capture fee.
So I abandoned ship
As life got too hard for me.

Now I’m a teacher
With wild lives left behind.
Hoping the authorities
Will think I’m too hard to find.
I enjoyed being a singer
And a wrestler was fun to be.
But now pretty words
Is what life’s about for me.
 
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