I recently read a book called "If the Shoe Fits" by Laura Whipple. A description right from the book says, “In thirty-three poems it brings to life not only the voices of well loved characters, but also the voices of characters not usually heard from---including the glass slipper, without which the story would not have a happy ending. " I have four selections I'd like to share with you through out the next week or so. The First:
Who is this girl in the mirror?
The feet. Bare, dirty.
Where are her shoes?
The dress. Torn, dusty.
Has she no clean gowns?
The hair. Long, scraggly.
Where's a comb?
The face.
Tired tear trails.
The mouth.
No song.
I think it's me.
I see myself and the trail behind me:
"Ella, don't be lazy.
You know so much about herbs,
please help with the meal."
"Of course."
"Oh, the horses love you; please groom them for us."
"Yes, I love horses."
It seemed right to help; we were family.
The feet. Bare, dirty.
Where are her shoes?
The dress. Torn, dusty.
Has she no clean gowns?
The hair. Long, scraggly.
Where's a comb?
The face.
Tired tear trails.
The mouth.
No song.
I think it's me.
I see myself and the trail behind me:
"Ella, don't be lazy.
You know so much about herbs,
please help with the meal."
"Of course."
"Oh, the horses love you; please groom them for us."
"Yes, I love horses."
It seemed right to help; we were family.
When they wanted more
and more
and more
and more,
I finally understood it was to late for sisterhood.
It's a problem, a puzzlement, what to do about me.
Just hoping is and endless conundrum, a maze.
Father would say to me,
"Use your brain, my dear."
and more
and more
and more,
I finally understood it was to late for sisterhood.
It's a problem, a puzzlement, what to do about me.
Just hoping is and endless conundrum, a maze.
Father would say to me,
"Use your brain, my dear."
Something will come to me.
The garden's still sweet,
there are songs to sing.
No weeping.
No moping.
No melancholy.
I wish---I wish I were not
not quite
so alone.
Father...? Mother...?
I miss you.
Puss,
purr that you love me.
I'll sing you a song,
hold you soft in my arms,
and we'll dance in the garden.
The garden's still sweet,
there are songs to sing.
No weeping.
No moping.
No melancholy.
I wish---I wish I were not
not quite
so alone.
Father...? Mother...?
I miss you.
Puss,
purr that you love me.
I'll sing you a song,
hold you soft in my arms,
and we'll dance in the garden.
Next poem will be "The Rat's Ride"
10 comments:
Was that book good? Would you recomend it?
I totally want to read this book!
woah....i did not mean to post that yet, but now that it's out, that's ok.....
Hannah: yeah I would recommend it!!!
So it's poems about Cinderella? Or a retelling of Cinderella in poems? Sounds neat regardless.
Anidori-isilee - I think it's the Cinderella story in poems from point of views of a stepsister, a rat, etc. (Correct me if I'm wrong Traci.)
Our library has it! yay.
anidori-isilee- It would be a poem retelling of Cinderella by all the different characters in the story.
First off, 't' is me, just in a different account, oops!
lol erin, our posts were at the exact same time
Cool! I like when there are writers who "expound" on the fairy tale characters.
Sounds really fun; I love fairy tale retellings. :D
Very fun book, I love this poem that you posted.
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