She found the book a few days ago; sharing her memory as well as my own. Twenty one years ago, my daughter wrote a Christmas poem, given to her teacher at Indian Trail school in Downers Grove to be submitted to the Anthology of Poetry since she loved writing. Though at times, I wonder if it was me more excited about my love of writing; guiding her my way. However, both of us strongly remember sitting on the bed working and I think there was a great deal of time spent at dining room table where arts, crafts and homework always took precedence. I, too, had published in poetry anthologies and now they were looking for young writers. If hard to read in the picture, the copy of the poem is written in this article.
The poem was accepted in the 2001 addition. The editors accepted the poems in their format and punctuation; extending a warm thank you to those they selected as well as expecting great things from them in the future. Just being able to spend a wonderful time with my daughter then and appreciating her love now is what I call a great things in the future that the editor had hoped for all who had been published in the book.
Anthology of Poetry still exists since their first publication in 1990. Working with elementary, middle school and high school teachers throughout the United States, the AOP offers a professional forum for students’ poems and short stories. They also engage teachers in the selection process for our Teacher’s Selection anthologies. We recognize how challenging it is to develop a love for reading and writing in students when there are many distractions and few tools.
Hang the stockings
Trim the tree
Make snowman cute as can be
Watch the snowflakes fall to the ground
Grab your boots and let’s run around
Drink hot chocolate from a Christmas cup
Build a fire to warm you up
Check the sky for Santa’s sleigh
He sure won’t be far away
Very soon you’ll hear them prancing
Santa’s reindeer will be dancing
The time has come for you to hear
Santa Claus’ jolly old cheer
You leave your room to sneak some peeks
At the man with the big red rosy cheeks
He piles packages under the tree
And turns around to smile at me
Then we go to find a treat
And we both sit down to drink and eat
When he is ready to leave I go to bed
And out of my window I see his fabulous sled
From high in the sky he waves goodbye
Until next year comes for my friends and I!