Sandra Alonzo and Poetry    Grade 2 teacher               When I was in the second grade in San Fernando, CA,          my teacher gave our class a homework project.          The assignment was to write a poem.           I remember how some of the kids in the class,          especially a few of the boys, didn't want to write          poetry.  But I really wanted to.  It was fun!

                                                     My friend gave me a book.  Somethng was missing.  
                                No words!  This book was called The Scribble-In Book.  
                                I wrote poetry in my book.
                   
                    

                     

                  Writing poetry has stayed with me
                  throughout my life.  

                   I encourage young people to buy
                   a book or journal for their writing.

                   A person can write about anything
                   in their journal.                

              

   
 
                                          MORE POETRY BY SANDRA ALONZO

                          

              Chewing Machines   

         Calling all bugs:  EVACUATE!
         chomp-chomp   chomp-chomp
         Better move out before it's too late
         chomp-chomp chomp-chomp 
         Chewing machines are making a pass - - -
         chomp-chomp chomp-chomp 
         Swallowing bugs that stay in the grass!

    chomp-chomp chomp-chomp 




     Sandra Alonzo, her horse Sandy, & the farrier    

            If a Horse Has Shoes 

        If a horse has shoes,
        Do the shoes have laces?
        Or buckles?  Or velcro?
        I see NO traces
        Of ties or fasteners,
        Not even a bow.
        If a horse has shoes, then
        Why don't they show?

                  

                                                                                 

                                                           FAMILY POETRY


                 
Written by my middle stepson in the sixth grade           Written by my youngest stepson during high school    
            I was walking on the beach and                                 A TWINKLE LITTLE STAR*
               was touched and I stopped and                                 A BLESSING FROM ABOVE
               looked around and saw a seagull                              CHEERFUL THOUGHTS FILL OUR
                   that flew to a palm tree.                                                           HEARTS AND HOMES
               The bird flew near me and looked                                              WITH CHRISTMAS*
                    at me like he knew who I was                          EIGHT TINY REINDEER
                                                                                                A FIRE BURNING  COURAGEOUSLY
                                                                                                      THE SEASON TO BE JOLLY
                                                                                                                             MERRY CHRISTMAS
                                                                                                    
                                                                                        
                                                     
           Age 8, my middle stepson                                                        Age 8. my youngest stepson       
                                                                                                                Poem to you
                                                                                                        Roses are red, violets are blue
                                                                                                       Your  birthday is fun, so are you

                    
                                                                                                                       Age 10
                                                    
                                                                    ART by my oldest stepson

Written & illustrated by my daughter in Grade 6                                            
                      

      a poem by my daughter
                                          

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                     
                                                                                                                                        
                                        Here's a poem written by my dad and a photo that my mom took.
                                        They make their own Christmas cards every year.
                                        




                                                   Grandpa & Caeser                                   
                                                    

                       
                                                                           My father's dad, my grandpa, wrote                           
                                                                           a great children's poem about a rooster.                   
                                                                           Here's part of that poem:

                                                                             WHAT TO DO!

                                                                           "I'll call each hen
                                                                           About the pen;
                                                                            I'll turn out all the chicks.
                                                                            I'll show them how
                                                                            Right here and now
                                                                            To do a lot of tricks."

                                                                           "What to do!  What to do!
                                                                            What-to-doodle-do!"
                                                                          
                                                                           "I'll kick the hay;
                                                                            I'll scratch the dirt;
                                                                            I'll work the barnyard over.
                                                                            I'll turn the stones,
                                                                            I'll roll the bones--                                          
                                                                            I'll tend the fields of clover.