topics: |  poetry | children | world | anthology

Excerpts

Footpath by Stella Ngatho, p. 54

Path-let . . . leaving home, leading out,
Return my mother to me.
The sun is sinking and darkness coming,
Hens and cocks are already inside and babies drowsing,
Return my mother to me.
We do not have firewood and I have not seen the lantern,
There is no more food and the water has run out,
Path-let I pray you, return my mother to me.
Path of the hillocks, path of the small stones,
Path of slipperiness, path of the mud,
Return my mother to me.
Path of the papyrus, path of the rivers,
Path of the small forests, path of the reeds,
Return my mother to me.

Path that winds, path of the shortcut,
Over-trodden path, newly made path,
Return my mother to me.
Path, I implore you, return my mother to me.
Path of the crossways, path that branches off,
Path of the stinging shrubs, path of the bridge,
Return my mother to me.
Path of the open, path of the valley,
Path of the steep climb, path of the downward slope,
Return my mother to me.
Children are drowsing about to sleep,
Darkness is coming and there is not firewood,
And I have not found the lantern;
Return my mother to me.

Mawu of the waters, by Abena P.A. Busia (Ghana)

With mountains as my footstool
and stars in my curls
I touch down to reap the waters with my fingers
and look! I cup lakes in my palms.
I fling oceans around me like a shawl
and am transformed
into a waterfall.
Springs flow through me
and spill rivers at my feet
as fresh streams surge to make seas.

The stars by Edith S\:odergran (Finland)

When night comes
I stand on the stairway and listen,
the stars are swarming in the garden
and I am standing in teh dark.
Listen, a star fell with a tinkle!
Do not go out on the grass with bare feet;
my garden is full of splinters.

Holding On by Debjani Chatterjee, India

I do not know if he was a sage,
nor if he was a philosopher.
I only know that he sat crosslegged,
silent on the sand by the river.

"Tell me the meaning of life," I begged.
He smiled and answered not a word.
"I'll not leave empty-handed," I said.
He smiled and I wondered if he heard.

Exasperated I made to go
when he smiled and gathered me up some sand
As he turned and looked into my eyes,
he let it trickle from his hand.

Uncertainly I pulled out my purse.
(Had he somehow answered after all?)
Hesitant, I gave him a rupee note.
He smiled and slowly let it fall.

blurb:
This diverse poetry collection takes readers on an imaginary journey from
Greenland to Great Britain by way of Nicaragua, Kenya, Hungary and many other
lands. Some poems are lighthearted, some are serious, and together they evoke
a world that's both exotic and familiar. An Australian tree-lizard sings for
rain, a Chilean mother rocks her baby to sleep, a boy monk dozes in a Korean
temple, and Jamaican children clamor for after-school treats. With poems from
more than 50 different countries and exquisite illustrations, "Around the
World in Eighty Poems" invites children to share in the richness of cultures
around the globe.