Thursday, April 24, 2014

DAY TWENTY-FOUR!! Celebrating "Poem in Your Pocket Day" for #NationalPoetryMonth + #‎pocketpoem‬

Just a heads up - I won't be sharing any guidelines on what type of poem to write today - but I DO hope your write one ~ using any method you choose; perhaps about poetry, or not ... up to you. I also hope you can choose a favorite poem, print it off and share it with others today. Fun stuff!!

 (cute poem pocket pic found at  
Thanks, Mrs. Gilchrist!!)

So, WHAT is "Poem in Your Pocket Day?"

The idea is simple: select a poem that you love during National Poetry Month then carry it with you to share with co-workers, family, and friends. Poems from pockets will be unfolded throughout the day with events in parks, libraries, schools, workplaces, and bookstores across the nation.

Check out this article from the Examiner about "Poem in Your Pocket Day" 

~ there's a hashtag for your social media today: #‎pocketpoem‬

Here are some ideas on HOW to celebrate "Poem in Your Pocket Day" (PIYP) ~ taken from an article found at

In this age of mechanical and digital reproduction, it's easy to carry a poem, share a poem, or start your own PIYP day event. Here are some ideas of how you might get involved:

  • Start a "poems for pockets" give-a-way in your school or workplace
  • Urge local businesses to offer discounts for those carrying poems
  • Post pocket-sized verses in public places
  • Hand-write some lines on the back of your business cards
  • Start a street team to pass out poems in your community
  • Distribute bookmarks with your favorite immortal lines
  • Add a poem to your email footer
  • Post a poem on your blog or social networking page
  • Project a poem on a wall, inside or out
  • Text a poem to friends

  • Help expand the list: send your ideas to

    HERE Is the poem I will have in my pocket today - there are SO many to choose from but I've always liked this one on friendship:

    To A Friend

    You entered my life in a casual way,
    And saw at a glance what I needed;
    There were others who passed me or met me each day,
    But never a one of them heeded.
    Perhaps you were thinking of other folks more,
    Or chance simply seemed to decree it;
    I know there were many such chances before,
    But the others--well, they didn't see it.
    You said just the thing that I wished you would say,
    And you made me believe that you meant it;
    I held up my head in the old gallant way,
    And resolved you should never repent it.
    There are times when encouragement means such a lot,
    And a word is enough to convey it;
    There were others who could have, as easy as not—
    But, just the same, they didn't say it.
    There may have been someone who could have done more
    To help me along, though I doubt it;
    What I needed was cheering, and always before
    They had let me plod onward without it.
    You helped to refashion the dreams of my heart,
    And made me turn eagerly to it;
    There were others who might have (I question that part)—
    But, after all, they didn't do it!

    © Grace Stricker Dawson (found in the 1936 edition of "Best Loved Poems of the American People")



    Heidi L. Murphy said...

    I really like that one, Stephanie. It seems to cut right to the core of things. Mine is more of a childhood memory. Check it out.

    Vicki said...

    I have a poem in my pocket
    It isn't on a locket
    I've saved it on my cell phone
    So I won't leave it home

    Writing poems every day
    Is helping me to say
    I'm a poet and now I know it
    This is a happy fit!

    Tanya Parker Mills said...

    Since I'm here at the LDStorymakers Conference, this seemed apropos:

    Write already!

    Force the mind to focus
    And the fingers to bend,
    Equivocate then submit to the muse
    Aching to be heard on the page.

    Jump into that churning
    River of words dammed up
    In your brain, waiting for you
    To unlock the gates for flooding.

    Ignore the clickety-clack
    Of keyboards all around as others
    Pour out volumes from their heads,
    Oblivious to talk and passers-by.

    Write already!

    Tanya Parker Mills said...

    And a favorite of mine is by Edna St. Vincent Millay, written in 1930:

    "Love is not all"

    Love is not all: It is not
    meat nor drink
    Nor slumber nor a roof
    against the rain,
    Nor yet a floating spar to
    men that sink
    and rise and sink and rise
    and sink again.
    Love cannot fill the
    thickened lung with
    Nor clean the blood, nor
    set the fractured bone;
    Yet many a man is
    making friends with
    even as I speak, for lack of
    love alone.
    It well may be that in a
    difficult hour,
    pinned down by need and
    moaning for release
    or nagged by want past
    resolutions power,
    I might be driven to sell
    you love for peace,
    Or trade the memory of
    this night for food.
    It may well be. I do not
    think I would.