God’s Children 3D Flipbook

Dear Readers:

God’s Children, Flip Book: This is a book of Children Poems I wrote and was illustrated by my daughter, Dahlia. The book consists of Sonnets, Hymns, Villanelles, Ballads, (Heroic) Couplets, Epigrams, Heterometric Rhymes, Odes, Biblical Free Verse, and other Forms of poetry, including ranges of prosody. It is appropriate for all ages.

It is mostly rhyming poetry and Christian based. Surely, I have not taken my verse to the Pulpit. Instead, I have composed contemporary poetry written for children with the message and fibers of Christian faith with its joy, kindness, peace and love with one’s self and others.

When you click on the link and flip through the pages, you may have to wait a minute for the images to upload. (Depending on your internet connection.) I hope you enjoy the book and I hope it inspires some of our children to enact on their own creative endeavors. It brought me great joy working with my daughter creating this book and I am super proud of her. The book was written for my daughter, and I also hope that every child knows how precious and sacred they are. 

Sincerely yours, Kate and Dahlia

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Gentle words for little ears.

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power

anything in your heart
that resides
that sings
that helps
that cherishes
that forgives

however, non violent

is possible
even finding the grace
to meet the heartless

your strength in love
is the warrior of night
and the charging white 
because that love
can defeat
and outlast
ten thousand men

for the crusader’s flag
is actually love
and the heartless
return to their faces

however,
you are loved
and have won the good fight
so find yourself
at this moment
perfect and loved as you are.

The beloved 
The adored
The cherished

God’s Children

Photo by Ray Bilcliff on Pexels.com

To follow nature
we hold our child’s
hand to God’s door. 
When this all matures
with the weeping willow
and the joy in heart flowers
we brush the Yellow Poplar
to find the green showing 

its vastness. From the beginning
with the sprouts in the greenhouse
to lovelit orchards: this life is grace.
The sun dances around the moon
as if dancing the movement of time.
It is here, I say to my child, Amen.

This is a Sonnet of mine, which I would love to see in my book project, God’s Children.

In Memory of Bill Knott

My Professor and Mentor, Bill Knott, passed away on March 12, 2014. He was a prolific poet, won numerous awards, a Guggenheim Fellowship, the Iowa Poetry Prize, published by University Presses, Random House, Straus and Giroux, amongst others.

I will be adding reflections here, perhaps some assignments he typed for the class, poems I worked on with him, and if you’d like your comment shared, I will post your comment here too.

I get all guey when I think about Bill not being here, but that is absent to the fact that his teachings in poetry workshops at graduate school, his years of guiding me and mentoring me after graduate school is very present and in the moment here right now. Every time I write a sonnet, I write it from Bill’s years of guidance, probing, testing, teaching, practicing and intact memory of his voice and expressions of when I did something well and when I devastated a poem. He’d smack his palm of his hand to his forehead, “What? Why would you ever, ever do that?” “Get that out of there!” Bill was absolute with his work; passionate can’t hardly explain his dedication to the occupation of verse. Many poems he wrote, he would rewrite over and over, even revisting the same poem published ten years ago in one of his earlier books, he would reword, change a rhyme, change the enjambment, and then incoming another Bill Knott poem birthing. The only romanticism between Bill and I was our ceaseless and relentless love for poetry. Knott was also one of the few practitioners of poetry that could write about the cliched and over written “love poem” and do it well. Sometimes he remade a love poem, goose bumped would jump off the page. He worked and worked, giving to his students, writing reviews, rewriting poems; it was not just about his work, but he helped so many others, students or fellow poets, and readers. It is true, he was ungraceful and blunt when he didn’t particularly enjoy what he read. He was fearless (humorous as well) with the politics of the mainstream poetry as well, however. The beauty of working with him, however, was you never wondered what does he really feel/think? His later work was at times used against him. He was intentionally obscure at times, why? I think because he felt like it and rather simply, because he could. Many mysteries will remain when he started self-publishing fiercely and those never ending dark forces using poems against him, as seemingly evidence against any sort of greatness of Knott.

Knott was my biggest fan and encouraged me, when I needed it the most. Sentimental or actual, the factual is Knott was and continues to be precious to my heart. I hope this inspires hundreds of more readers, since his range is one of kind and brilliant. I believe he wrote only one Children’s Book of verse, (I could stand corrected) which is a shame, because he was gifted beyond anything imaginable when it came to perfect and slanted rhymes. In addition, I loved his book art. He often painted the cover of his self published books and included his paintings in book form. He was inspiring, endless inpsiration coming from just a few moments with him, unlike anyother.

I have a great memory of Bill at a poetry workshop while at Emerson College, in graduate school. In essence, Bill made a clear message to a student who made many judgments of the people she wrote about in her poem: “don’t ever condemn, ever.” Bill let the student know if she did it again, she would have the option to switch out of his poetry workshop for another workshop. I agree with Bill, poetry wasn’t a place intended to condemn people.

 

Books

SPACE From the trees the leaves came down until we joined hands with a wand and that act enabled them somehow then to reach the ground where they scuttered round our feet urging the latter to unite with a baton as if that act together with the hands can clasp a dowsing-stick cut from the same branch from which we launched converging on gravity's purge-point at which point we merged to remove all consonants from our star-maps. The infinite consists of vowels alone. The Unsubscriber. Knott, Bill. Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 2004
Ashbery’s “Famous” Poem, underlined above was an ongoing puzzling error in American Poetry, as Bill probed.