Tag: poetry

Seasons of Words

Poems for Every Season: A Year of Haiku, Sonnets, and More – written by Bette Westera, illustrated by Henriette Boerendans, translated from the Dutch by David Colmer
Eerdmans Books for Young Readers, 2026

Poems for Every Season is tranquil, beautiful, and also, thorough. There are many excellent illustrated anthologies of poetry for young people (here, for example), and also manuals for how to compose specific types of poetry. Often these how-to books are also anthologies with representative examples of verse forms. Bette Westera, Henriette Boerendans, and translator David Colmer have produced an exceptional book of wonder, for those who are drawn to poetry as well as readers who are tentative about exploring it.

The book’s endpapers open with a flock of birds. Boerendans’s woodcuts embed poems in the world of nature, and the birds seem to be inviting readers to enter this environment, where poems and pictures are more than the sum of their parts. (A brief and useful preface explains how the author and translator have adapted the choice of verse forms to reflect differences between Dutch and English.). Each section begins with the name of the season in large font, placed vertically down the side of one page.

The seasonal page and poem are followed by a page identifying the month, in larger font. This is one of several interesting artistic choices which are not obvious. Do months require more attention than seasons? The variety ensures that reader experience each page and poem as something new.

The animals and plants that share the space of the book each belong where they are placed, but not necessarily in a literal way. For September, a crow sits among apples, both red and gold. The image suggests Asian block prints. On the facing page, two squirrels, facing in opposite directions, seem alert. They may notice the apples, or be looking for other food. The poem is a quatrain. As Westera explains, this form could refer to any poem with four lines, or to a more specific set of rules about rhyme. The tone is informative, but minimally prescriptive. The work of Persian poet Omar Khayyam moved the four lines in the direction of a changed rhyme in the third one. No previous knowledge is assumed. In fact, the famed poet is introduced with the phrase, “He was called Omar Khayyam.”

Each season begins with haiku. Every month has a poem in a different verse form. Following the twelve months and their poems, there is a section read by turning the book vertically. There are three columns of text and pictures, which are actually the same ones that appeared earlier, encouraging access to the description of the form that accompanies each poem here. Instructions for how to write in each form are not provided as a formula or a graphic, but they may certainly be used that way by aspiring poets.

You may be thinking that this format alludes to the way that we read documents digitally, sometimes keeping different windows open. You would be right. The windows here, though, are different! They look outwards at the natural world, inwards at the imagination, and describe the technique of how poems function. Yes, there are similarities to text and hypertext. You have to read this book to believe the incredibly imaginative the synthesis that results.

Writing Is Heroic

The Trouble with Heroes – by Kate Messner
Bloomsbury Children’s Books, 2025

“I’m still sad and I’m still angry sometimes, because so much stuff isn’t fair and grief is totally on that list.” That sentence, from a letter to a dead woman whose gravestone he defaced in a moment of rage, is by Finn Connelly, a boy in middle school. His father, a New York City firefighter, survived 9/11/2001, only to succumb years later, during the Covid-19 pandemic. This novel in verse, by acclaimed author Kate Messner, is getting excellent reviews. Instead of just adding to them, I will make a few points about some questions that the book raises.

It seems counterintuitive that novels in verse should have become so popular. Reading poetry is not in the mainstream of middle-grade or young adult literature.  Having read many of these books, it has become obvious that the most attractive feature of this genre maybe its short length. Each chapter is a short poem, often, but not always, in a conversational or free verse form.  The Trouble with Heroes is not this kind of facile example, which relieves the author of the obligation to create a narrative with continuity between each part. Simply dividing sentences of prose into shorter lines does not add up to poetry.  Whenever I read an accomplished book in verse for young readers (I have, for example, reviewed other examples here and here and here), I am impressed that the author has thoughtfully crafted a distinctive voice for a range of characters, often using a variety of metric forms.

Middle-grade literature is full of angry kids. Childhood and adolescence provide many reasons to be angry, and Finn’s motives are severe enough to grant him a kind of instant empathy. Still, vandalizing someone’s grave is awful, and needs to be met with a strong response. Should that response be a punishment, an opportunity for growth, or perhaps a mere acknowledgement that being a victim does not excuse victimizing others?  Finn earns the reader’s respect, not because his life is unbearably sad, but by his honest, caustic, and introspective reactions to everything life has thrown in his path. We would still feel sympathy for what he has suffered, but that emotion alone does not make a character worth the reader’s attention for over 300 pages.

The adults in Finn’s life are imperfect, from his mother, worn down by her own burdens, to his supportive grandmother, to the teacher who expects him to turn in poems about heroes. One truth that emerges from Finn’s story is that each person is trapped in his own experience, which can never be fully shared. At the same time, Finn struggles, and learns how to accept the flawed, tarnished, human beings who care about him.  Whenever adults do their best to impart survival skills, learned from their own experiences, the author needs to weigh the validity of the child’s response.  Finn is not obligated to be fair, but Messner succeeds in creating a character whose contradictions are believable.

Finally, there are recipes in some of the poems.  I was relieved by that, because Finn enjoys food, and his family bakery plays a role in the plot.  I was afraid he was going to be thrown into mountain climbing in the Adirondacks because Edna, the woman whose grave he vandalized, had touched people’s lives through her commitment to hiking.  The outdoors are not necessarily the ideal setting for every single human being to undergo life-affirming epiphanies. How appropriate was the choice, by Edna’s daughter, to enforce hiking as an alternative to more punitive consequences? Readers may differ on the answer, but I appreciated the references to other areas of Finn’s life that did not involve potentially brutal geography, wild animals, and a mother’s totally realistic fears for her son.

Hello, Baby

My Book of Firsts: Poems Celebrating a Baby’s Milestones – written by Lee Wardlaw, illustrated by Bruno Brogna
Red Comet Press, 2025

Opening Lee Wardlaw and Bruno Brogna’s endearing book about the milestones in a baby’s life is like taking a step, or rather two. The first is into the perspective of a baby or toddler, as well as her caretakers, as each one experiences a sense of accomplishment. The second step leads into classic mid-twentieth century illustration, with pictures that promote nostalgia, but not fantasy.  Babies have always been babies, but ways of visualizing our delight in them have taken different forms.

Wardlaw is a prolific poet, with most of her work aimed at older children. In My Book of Firsts she uses direct and off-rhyme, onomatopoeia, and other familiar forms from traditional poetry for the young.  In “First Word,” she charts the series of incomprehensible sounds that eventually become human speech: “Squeaked,/shrieked,/squawked,/and scowled,” “Babbled,/gabbled, jabbered, mooed…” resolves into the surprise of the child’s first word.  Brogna’s accompanying picture shows a mother fox in a smart yellow housedress with white collar, as well as a bushy red tail. She is holding up her kit and they are clearly communicating their mutual joy.

The same mom is at a first birthday party for a bear cub, with other species in attendance. (image).  The bear parents are much stockier than the fox mother, and they are wearing appropriately looser, but still attractive, clothing.  Wardlaw’s poem begins with rhyming couplets that build momentum: “Up early./Family flurry./Bake a cake./Decorate./Guests arrive./Come inside!”  In addition to the cake there is pizza, juice boxes (a more contemporary touch), and other delicately colored pastel items that may be vegetables, pastry, and candy.

Each poem refers to events that parents will recognize. “First Outing” catalogues the crucial items necessary for this milestone. These include the general categories of sunscreen, diapers, and tasty snack, but also the more specific “Flossy cap that Grandma knit.”  A raccoon mother holds her careful checklist and pushes the stroller as fast as she can as her child points to the “adoring fans” waiting to meet him.

Naturally, one poem is devoted to the accomplishment that any reader of this book would expect. In “First Book,” a rabbit reads to her kit. The book has a duck on its cover, because children’s interest is not limited to their own identity. The first stanza describes how a child first engages with this new object: “What is that?/Let me hold it!/I promise not to bend/or/fold it” She is excited to learn that mother and child can share the experience of this wonderful object. The book is “a perfect fit” for her hands, but “We both can sit/and look at pictures inside of it.” Of course, books end, but reading does not, and the kit demands a second reading, and inevitably many more.

My Book of Firsts includes spaces to record a child’s name, first birthday, first steps, and several more milestones, reinforcing the allusion to classic poetry and illustration. Childrearing methods change, but charting a baby’s progress, with patience and awe, does not.

Learning from Color

A Universe of Rainbows – poems selected by Matt Forrest Esenwine, illustrated by Jamey Christoph
Eerdmans Books for Young Readers, 2025

To paraphrase Mark Twain oft quoted remark about the weather, everybody talks about STEAM (science, technology, engineering, arts, and mathematics), but nobody does anything about it.  A Universe of Rainbows is a picture book that fulfills the ideal of combining education about these seemingly disparate fields.  An anthology of poems rooted in rainbows and color, it includes works by well-known authors and others whose work may be less familiar.  Each poem is accompanied by a boldly colored illustrated, and by a column of informational text. The breadth and range of the content and styles is amazing.

Virtually any selection gives a sense of the book’s approach. A poem by prolific author Marilyn Singer, “Rainbows in a Cage,” warns of the dangers of extinction caused by the voracious pursuit of rainbow finches: “They wanted rainbows in a cage:/finches stolen from the wild./A different time, a different age.” Singer uses the poetic form of the triolet, while other poems in the collection are composed in free verse.  This compact form, using only two different rhymes, is perfect for conveying her message.  The birds’ beauty does not excuse their exhaustion by selfish collectors. At the same time, she contextualizes the events by noting that different standards have applied in the past.  Jamey Christoph’s picture of the sought-after birds sitting on branches shows the bright and pastel colors that attracted collectors.  The explanatory text gives historical background and summarizes the results of the birds’ popularity: “the demand for Gouldian flinches became so great they were nearly trapped and caged out of existence.”

Lee Wardlaw points out the unfairness of judging a species only by its obvious beauty in “The Fruit Fly’s Secret.”  Yes, butterflies are lovely, but “just because/they flit and flirt/on wings of rainbow hues” they have deflected attention from the equally significant fruit fly.  Viewed under a microscope, the colors of these insects are revealed, elevating them from their lowly habitats in “drains and sinks and mops” or rotting fruit.  The text box describes how photomicroscopy documents how they refract light, and also interacts with the poem itself.  Wardlaw includes quotes from different authors extolling the beauty of butterflies; the text refers back to the poem by attributing each quote (Victor Hugo, Oscar Wilde, Bashō, and more).

Editor Matt Forrest Esenwine’s own poetry is also part of the book. “Alien Fountain” responds with awe to the unexpected phenomenon of the Fly Geyser, a “peculiar/accident/that could/only have/been created/by human ignorance/and Nature’s/resilient/soul.”  This result of an energy company’s drilling for geothermal water in the 1960s produced a strangely stunning appearance, captured in Christoph’s illustration.  The algae growing on mounds of limestone caused an explosion of color, “giving the geyser its otherworldly appearance.” As in all the explanations, concise presentation of facts works in parallel with literary language.

I cannot recommend this book highly enough.  It sets a high bar for authors and artists aspiring to link science and the arts without sacrificing aesthetic and linguistic distinction.

Poems That Take Flight

Words with Wings and Magic Things – written by Matthew Burgess, illustrated by Doug Salati
Tundra Books, 2025

Designing a book of poetry for children is not an easy task.  There are outstanding collections of classic poems accompanied by different artists’ interpretation. A Child’s Garden of Verse alone has been illustrated by, among others, Jessie Wilcox Smith, Gyo Fujikawa, Alice and Martin Provensen, and Eloise Wilkin.  Recently, Rosemary Wells had the courage to apply her own individual vision to a selection of A.A. Milne’s poems from When We Were Very Young, although they are inextricably linked to the artwork of Ernest H. Shepard.  There are modern classics by such disparate poets as Jack Prelutsky, Shel Silverstein, Bobbi Katz, and Julie Fogliano.  Words with Wings and Magic Things joins this distinguished company, while adding level of originality and beauty that stands on its own.

On the one hand, children are natural drawn to rhyme and rhythm. On the other, after a certain age they sometimes approach it with skepticism. Where is the plot? Maybe enough humor will compensate for that, and some poets try to hard by overloading their work with this feature.  Matthew Burgess seems to have chosen the subject and form of each poem with respect for children’s intelligence.  The book is organized into thematic sections, each introduced by a two-line poem. “Wild” summarizes excursions into that territory. “The animal inside of us who longs to wander free,/the sparkling specks of stardust that make up you and me.” The poems use different rhyme schemes, alliteration, and stanza lengths, and address subject matter ranging from whimsical to philosophical. There is not a pretentious note in the book.

Doug Salati’s pictures show a kind of exuberance, whatever the subject of the poem he is illustrating. There are two-page spreads with lavish colors and smaller image set against white space. Some pages feature cut-out windows to the following picture, allowing a moon, for example, to transform into a polar bear’s fur. His allusions to classic children’s books are not eye-winking secret messages to adults; they are wonderful homages that set his own work within a lasting tradition.  The lions in “Living with Lions” recall Sendak’s Pierre: they appear somewhat sly, as if unsure about whether to act as predators. “When they wake,/bake a cake,” the girl in the picture wisely decides.

The dog next to the slide in “Wild” is definitely related to Margaret Bloy Graham’s Harry the Dirty Dog. If children don’t recognize these forbears of Salati’s characters, it would be a great opportunity to introduce them. He also shows up accompanying the beginning of “Whoops and Whallops,” about life’s inevitably embarrassing and difficult moments, eating popcorn, and along with his human friend, enjoying a show.  The performing dog recalls the harlequin-costumed animals of The Color Kittens.

Maybe it seems obvious that yetis’ favorite food is spaghetti. Burgess twists the strands of language into invented words that make perfect sense in Salati’s scene of feasting monsters. Twist the fork into your noodles;/Meatball, meatball, and spagoodles.” By the end of the poem, the elongated pasta returns to normal: “Now eat it up, you hungry yet;. Meatball, meatball, and spaghetti.”  Poets and artists can accomplish magic.