Dizzy in Your Eyes: Poems about Love
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
Beloved children's book author and speaker Pat Mora has written an original collection of poems, each with a different teen narrator sharing unique thoughts, moments, sadness, or heart’s desire: the girl who loves swimming, plunging into the water that creates her own world; the guy who leaves flowers on the windshield of the girl he likes. Each of the teens in these 50 original poems, written using a variety of poetic forms, will be recognizable to the reader as the universal emotions, ideas, impressions, and beliefs float across the pages in these gracefully told verses.
Also included are the author’s footnotes on the various types of poetic forms used throughout to help demystify poetry and showcase its accessibility, which makes this a perfect classroom tool for teachers as well as an inspiration to readers who may wish to try their own hand at writing.
heart floated up with the elevator. He asked my name. I didn’t speak much English, but he started calling. Voilà! I’d look in the mirror and stare at my face. Eventually, he took me to Holland to meet his family. They teased us. Your grandpa’s aunt was blind, but she liked me to visit her. She’d feel the white tablecloth, seeing with her fingers. ‘No, not this one,’ she’d say to her daughter. ‘It’s not good enough for her.’ One day, I knelt down on one knee and asked
We could walk a beach sipping coffee, and she’d laugh and feel really well and not start crying. She’d be different. No one would ask me questions about being with someone so weird, lonely. “Save me,” she whispers. It makes me lonely. My life before that first day seems far away. Her cutting habit scares me. I ask questions so maybe she can say what hurts. I offer coffee with lots of sugar and milk, something different. She dries her smudged eyes, sighs, “Oh, well.” I wish we
from the Italian, meaning “third”): A three-line stanza or poem, often rhymed. I recast this poem and “Fortune Cookie” in tercets because the number three is emphasized in the poems. Revenge × 3 I slipped a note to three— the same note—Romeo me, experienced at poetry. All three were sweetly pretty. Each read my words, smiled slyly. I felt clever and happy. My life would be a movie— calls to make, hands to hold lightly, poems to write nightly. But one day, three came
estoy escuchando,” nos animaba. “¡Ándenle! Participen en nuestra conversación. Déjenos oír sus certezas como luces de neón, sus dudas espinosas, sus enojos embrollados”, pero durante semanas me escondí en mí misma. Leí y releí sus notitas elogiando lo que escribía, y usted susurraba: “Te necesitamos. Necesitamos tus cuentos y tus preguntas que, como un fresco sendero, nos llevarán a vistas nuevas”. Poco a poquito su fe me dio valor y para usted— en lugar de ofrecerle
shine? Why do their eyes squint when we speak Russian? Do boys really imagine all of us without clothes? What if no one wants to touch me because I’m too fat? Why do they start whispering about me when I walk by? When I dance, why do my feet get stuck, as if music is a foreign language? Does anyone care about the real me? Does my breath smell like a fish tank? Why don’t they like him just because he’s Muslim? What if the way I kiss is dull, like oatmeal? Why do adults say, “What do you