When I was small, before I could even sit up on my own, Mother and Grandmother would hold me in their laps and read to me. Mostly they read poems knowing that like music the rhythmn of the words would engage a child's attention.
And so a passion rooted it self deep within giving my imagination wings to fly traveling back in time sailing to strange lands that existed between the covers of each book. Just as it had for my grandmother and mother when they were young.
Delighted and entranced we loss all track of time in the verses and rhymes
- Little Trotty Wagtail by John Clare
- Some One by Walter de la Mare
- At The Zoo by William Makepeace Thackeray
- Sea Fever by John Masefield
- Daffodils by William Wordsworth
- The Village Blacksmith by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
- A Smuggler's Song by Rudyard Kipling
- The Donkey by G.K. Chesterton
When my grandmother had been four her father had brought her and her brother a copy of Penny Whistles, a collection of poetry for children by the Scottish author Robert Louis Stevenson. Later it was illustrated and republished under the title of A Child's Garden of Verses which my grandmother brought for her children Milancie and Edna. And this copy, containing such wonderful pens as: "Foreign Children," "The Lamplighter," "The Land of Counterpane," "Bed in Summer," "My Shadow" and "The Swing", my Aunt Milancie saved and sent to my Mother when she too had children.
In my Aunt though a wonderful transformation occured as she listened to the magical notes of the poet's pen read aloud as it later did in me! It was not enough to just listen and imagine we each too had to put pen to paper giving birth to our own creations.
Milancie, my aunt was a very gifted poet whose prose had the finish of those much more accomplished than she.
And this being National Poetry month I finally undertook the task I had been promising myself I would do for years - collecting and sharing her pens as a memorial to her!