Traffic Light Poem Mp3 Download
Donnie Ehlen
Traffic Light measures about 15 inches high - it is big
Learn about road safety with this great traffic light set.
The lights are double sided so you can turn them over from red to black,
so only one is showing as a time if desired.
Words also promote the connection between action, words and literacy.
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The fall hues emulate the green-yellow-red progression. What\u2019s more, the \u201Cgolden hour\u201D of autumn seems to slip so quickly to red. My family enjoys visiting various spots here in the Northeast in mid-October. I love the way the sun illuminates golden leaves; it\u2019s as if the softness of yellow invites us to purposefully pause and slow down. This poem pays homage to the central part of the autumnal traffic light: yellow.
This week I was inspired by a traffic light and how it symbolises marriage to a certain extent. This inspiration board was created as I was curious to see what a traffic light would look like as a wedding theme. What do you think?
Red, yellow, green!
The fraffic light;
The signals,
With the rules;
All-in-one.
The destination,
Your destination!
With the muse of the traffic light;
Invented in 1914,
100 years agao.
The traffic light,
The traffic flow,
To direct you!
With the rules;
But, red and green were in the gas era.
The traffic light,
Today we have: Red, Yellow and Green!
Being computerised with the LED Technology;
As compared to the gas era.
Upgrade your life,
Upgrade your mind,
Upgrade your muse,
Upgrade your love;
With the acts of mercy, humility and compassion.
The traffic light!
We need the rules to control the traffic flow;
So, the traffic light is very important to us,
And like the rules of life with the muse of the laws.
I met Matilda by the Poet Tree this morning. Matilda is 8, and she wants to be a writer. She followed me back to the Yurt, her family and little sister in tow, and set off with a little FINDS book and a borrowed pencil. We met again an hour later, and she showed me her poems. Lots of them.
I\u2019m home from book tour for a spell, happy to be back with my kids (and yes, my sweet dog)\u2014and happy to be back in my office, with all my files, so I could choose some work to share with you. This week I\u2019ve annotated a pair of poems from my last collection, Goldenrod.
As their titles suggest, these two poems are closely related: \u201CAfter the Divorce, I Think of Something My Daughter Said About Mars\u201D and \u201CAt the End of My Marriage, I Think of Something My Daughter Said About Trees.\u201D Both are collaborative, in a sense. Both feel like gifts I received as much as poems I made. The words in each poem are things my daughter said to me in conversation, and the titles are mine. I heard Violet\u2019s words as metaphors for the end of my marriage, and the titles provide that figurative framework.
I say the poem is \u201Calmost verbatim,\u201D but I did change a couple of words for sound and rhythm. For example I liked the er sound in the words returned, Earth, and turn, but it\u2019s possible my daughter said something more casual, like \u201Cif you go back,\u201D which lacks that music. I left in the more casual \u201CI mean,\u201D \u201Csort of,\u201D and the image of noodles, which all sound like her voice.
On line breaks specifically: I chose the breaks for tension and suspense, knowing the reader would have questions in each line that they would want answered in the next line. For example, breaking after \u201Cturn your bones\u201D prompts the reader to ask \u201Cturn your bones how, or to what? Reading on provides the answer: \u201Cnoodles.\u201D It\u2019s a tiny poem, so these pauses also slow down the pacing so we don\u2019t rush right through it. The landing of the poem quietly devastates me every time I read it aloud at readings. There\u2019s a matter-of-fact finality that I think is underscored by allowing \u201Cyou have to stay gone\u201D to live on a line of its own.
\u201CAt the End of My Marriage, I Think of Something My Daughter Said About Trees\u201D predates the other poem. This one came first, and I didn\u2019t know it would have a companion until the Mars conversation. Isn\u2019t this often what happens in our writing lives? We\u2019re surprised by the ideas that come our way and by how they may be connected.
This poem began in my car with my kids sitting together in the backseat. As we sat at a traffic light, watching some workers cut the limbs off a tree, my daughter said the body of this poem in almost these words exactly. I don\u2019t recall if I wrote it down (or typed it into the notes app on my phone) right away, or if I remembered what she said and wrote it down later, but the process involved paring down the description to its essentials, looking carefully at line breaks and opportunities for music, and maintaining her voice the best I could (\u201Cthe sky\u2019s like finally\u201D is one of those moments, but I also love the long I assonance in that phrase). I think the pauses after \u201Cbranch\u201D and \u201Cblue\u201D are doing a lot in the poem. Those line breaks slow down the pace and give the reader time to reflect. I see the break between \u201Cbranch\u201D and \u201Chits the ground\u201D as enacting the branch\u2019s fall and landing.
Staying safe online is a lot like staying safe in the real world. Using a fun traffic light activity, students learn how to identify "just right" content, giving them the green light to learn, play, and explore the internet safely.
The photos I found most interesting were of the old jail. Daddy remembered the location but never had to make a visit there himself. He said it was conveniently located close to the busy downtown area where men often got into trouble during the oil boom of the 1920s. The concrete jail is on the back ally of South Broadway Street. South Broadway Street has one of the only pedestal traffic lights in our state. It is pictured here with the public library in the background.
I drove on like a blind, demented nonagenarian who should have had her license revoked ages ago. Some lights were still working inside the buildings of Emerald City, so even though I was a homing pigeon wildly off course my eyes stayed on the downtown prize, and at Navigation it seemed right to turn right. Miles away from home in the west, I finally chugged into the city from the far east.
After saying thank you, just a short comment:
I particularly like the comparison to the gargoyle. An image in extintintion, to which I have always felt attracted. Architects/artists in the past managed to turn a practical device into an ornamental/artistic object.
Anyway, since I first real this poem, whenever a see a garbageman I picture a gargoyle. (no medieval buildings here in Buenos Aires)
Hello D I, (may i call you DI like Sharon) - I've only read one book by Ferlinghetti and it's called A Coney Island of the Mind which I took backpacking with me, so it is a little bit battered. But it is a great favourite of mine. The Beat Poets are the original Slam Poetry guys aren't they? They are so louche and cool.
Anyway I think he was definitely bringing in social inflections and pointing out the gulf that is growing wider and wider between the great unwashed and the preppy elite. I like it they are "sunglassed" - these people just don't want to see each other despite their proximity. Ferlinghetti is great at unusual juxtapositions and wry comment, i love the repetitions and rhythm - there are some poems in my book written to be read along with jazz musicians!
Gabriela, I am the one who owe the thanks. :)
Hi Msia girl, yes, most certainly you can call me DI. Most pp don't quite like the idea of calling me idiot, haha, or perhaps it's because my moniker is too long, hahaha. Thanks too for your comments. The sunglasses bit is so true... I hadn't realise this fact beforre. But, I guess with the ozone thinning, pp would need sunglasses all the more, especially us in the tropics. You know, I visited your blog before... I think, it was when you commented on Machinist's sharing of a Mary Oliver's poem, if I recall correctly. Anyway, since you are Malaysian, but living in the UK, we could love to have you guest blog for us some time in the future... I'll keep this in mind, though currently, I'm up to my neck with things,
Enar, I agree with you. Many times, I too find myself 'missing' or forgetting these people, but I try my best. What is sad to see is some stuck-up arrogant person treating people in these public service areas disdainfully as lesser persons. Anyway, speaking on behalf of the others, it would good to have you buest blog for us sometime, though I'm too busy at the moment to arrange something. Please do let me know or remind me if I forget to get back to you at a later date. Off course, a better way, is to go through Sharon, whom I heard, is a distant relative of yours... such a small world! :) Hope to meet you when the opportunity arises. :)
This poem sucks because I have to memorise it for my stupid english assignment. And, I don't believe in bright and colourful garbage trucks because they stink real bad and have bird shit on the sides.
This poem intrigues me, as many take the garbagemen for granted, and are unaware of the major social divide between the well-of and the not so well-of.
No offense if your parents are garbagemen or women. They do great things. :)