Gettin’ Heavy, Levy; A Poem to Celebrate Us All!

Martin Luther King had a dream,big words, strong words, soaring words, it seemed,and today you let me read February poetry.

“We are students in third and fourth grade, you see,marching forward in an elementary parade to be free, hee hee,while learning to sing our school’s magic.”

“We are the children with wishes and songs,stepping our way through life’s rights and its wrongs,trying to avoid all the tragic.”

“Birthday to birthday, we want those toys,We love playing games with the girls and boys, wishing for bags of candy and the noisethat makes us feel dandy and alive.”

“We read, we write, and we learn to strive for a better tomorrow,Using BIG words to combat our sorrow,in the way a butterfly learns to fly. We celebrate words for their powerof expressing moods: sweet, sugary and sour,as we become more stable and strong.”

“Money Money Money and cash can’t buy, nor stash, the BIG words that love creates,because BIG words make us less iratetowards the happiness to celebrate how awesome we are.”

“Glamorous. Stupendous. Miraculous. Each of usexplore new foods, the world and books – our moods,We can be lions & tigers & bears, oh my,adding new tools to our backpack’s supply of laughter.

Each of us trying to live happily ever afterwith love, being cute, as we shoot for the stars –sporting about like tigers in fast carsdriving into our dreams.”

I, too, hear the Supremes singingR-E-S-P-E-C-T,and I’m finding what it means to me,in a dog eat dog, kitty-kat cute kitten world.

Levy, we are swirled in goodness and in hope,needing to pull each other along with thick ropein order to find all the gold.37, 9, 10, & 11 years old -gaining vocabulary to be strong, good and boldin our teamwork of loving friendship.

Yes, put your hands on your hip,when you dip, I dip, we dip;we must make education our trip for communicating everything we feel.

Poetry, my friends, is the way to keep it realand like fans who squeal at football games, and like buzzing bees from Ali’s boxing frames,like Rosa Park’s and Obama’s dreams,we need to write our tomorrow.

“Strawberries, grapes, math, gym and art,”pick up a pen, find some paper and startplaying word soccer in a poetic family.Monkeys see, monkeys do --3rd and 4th graders, stay true to the journey ahead,and each night when you go to bed,offer the moon your prayers and poems –wishing the best for both your school and your homes,in a marathon of Martin’s Big Words –because dreams deserve to fly.