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  • Writer's pictureCharles Waters


Hello children's poetry peeps.

Not going to lie, with all that's going on during National Poetry Month, I was going to recap all things poetical sometime in June when school is officially over across the country. However, two offers came up that I couldn't refuse.

Jackie Robinson Day

April 15

The First

Jackie Robinson

First African American baseball

player in the modern era


I run down

the line, eight feet,

nine….and feint to feel

the rush between the third

baseman’s brush back and home.

Whitey Ford stares through me, sneak thief

playing on his disbelief, a phantom blackbird


on and off

the dare, flinching,

inching along the ledge

to legend. I time the windup,

my pistons primed to shovel under

Yogi’s glove. Yankee Stadium is stunned!

But you can hear the cheering all the way from


©J. Patrick Lewis -- all rights reserved.

Also, PBS released a two-part documentary about Mr. Robinson to coincide with the anniversary of him breaking baseball's color barrier. You can find more information about the documentary here:

The second offer I couldn't refuse is my poetic pal and forever friend, Irene Latham, asking me to contribute to her annual Progressive Poem shindig, and I happily accepted! Besides myself and Irene, there is a big list of Poetry Friday bloggers who are contributing:

3 Doraine at Dori Reads

4 Diane at Random Noodling

8 Janet F. at Live Your Poem

11 Buffy at Buffy's Blog

12 Michelle at Today's Little Ditty

13 Linda at TeacherDance

14 Jone at Deo Writer

16 Violet at Violet Nesdoly

17 Kim at Flukeprints

18 Irene at Live Your Poem

19 Me at Poetry Time

21 Jan at Bookseedstudio

24 Amy at The Poem Farm

25 Mark at Jackett Writes

26 Renee at No Water River

27 Mary Lee at Poetrepository

29 Sheila at Sheila Renfro

30 Donna at Mainely Write

On April 19th I will add my line to the poem everyone is stringing together day by day.

Here is the poem at it stands now with my lines in itaclics at the bottom:

A squall of hawk wings stirs the sky.

A hummingbird holds and then hies.

If I could fly, I'd choose to be

Sailing through a forest of poet-trees.

A cast of crabs engraves the sand

Delighting a child's outstretched hand.

If I could breathe under the sea,

I'd dive, I'd dip, I'd dance with glee.

A clump of crocuses crave the sun.

Kites soar while joyful dogs run.

I sing to spring, to budding green,

to all of life -seen and unseen.

Wee whispers drift from cloud to ear

and finally reach one divining seer

who looks up from her perch and beams --

West Wind is dreaming May, it seems. Golden wings open and gleam

as I greet the prancing team.

Gliding aside with lyrical speed

Also, on April 1st I appeared on the blog of award-winning writer Penny Parker Klostermann with two poems by me based on the drawings from my niece, Amani Gibson and my nephew, Dane Syeer Sanders. So thankful to connect creatively with my loved ones. Thanks for the opportunities, Penny! You can find the blog post here.

The organization Healing Arts Initiative, who, according to there mission statement: inspires healing, growth and learning through engagement in the arts for the underserved, commissioned me once again to perform my Poetry Time show. This time at The Pavilion at Queens for Rehab and Nursing. Most of the population there are senior citizens, so I had a chance to perform more of my mature children's poems, which I usually do for Middle School students. Each poem seemed to go over well, especially during my Thoughtful Set, which deals with poems about difficult emotions.

On April 25th I'll be performing at the Voila L. Sickles School in Fair Haven, NJ. Thank you Kathleen Bayer and Kerry Maguire for facilitating my upcoming visit. I've spent a chunk of time in Fair Haven before with friends, sailing, eating sumptuous meals, soaking in the Monmouth County atmosphere. I can't wait to come back.

I leave you all with a poem based on a true story of what I witnessed while walking to the Poets House for another marathon writing session.


On my way to the library I pass a senior citizen home.

Gazing into the window, I see wispy haired humans,

slouched over like crowbars had been inserted

into their backs, trudging along with the help

of stainless steel walking sticks. One block later

I glide by a nursery school, witness wispy haired

infants tottering back and forth before crashing

down on their bottoms, a worthy attempt at

walking foiled, for now. In one city block I see

the check points at each end of life’s rainbow.

© Charles Waters 2016 all rights reserved.

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