One of the Little One's homework assignments this week - write a poem or riddle using at least 10 open syllables.
Mom, help me write a poem.
What do you think I am; a poet? Oh wait yeah that argument is going to work against me. So tell me, what is an open syllable?
The Little One proceeds to give me a phonics lesson. You know dyslexics are bad with phonemes (that would be Mom not the Little One). She loves teaching me phonics except the fact I never pronounce the phonemes correctly. Give me a whole word, I have no problem pronouncing it. Break the word up into its separate phonemes - Egads all of a sudden it's a foreign language.
Open syllables weren't too difficult. Mostly because being in third grade the open syllables she came up with were one syllable words. After my lesson, I asked her - what do you want to write a poem about?
My cat. Okay - My Cat written by Mom with help from the Little One who missed identifying a couple of the open syllables after giving mom a lesson on them.
MY Cat
Do you see
My cat, Gi-Gi?
She likes to hide
From me
Somewhere inside
No one can see.
Will you please
Help me?
Where O where is Gi-Gi
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and tree, with bees and keys with knees,
with peas and sky.
I'm wondering why
I cannot stop this la-di-dah, go ride a car, or see my ma.
S'pose you'll never know,
and so I'll go!
to see the words which others write.
And soon, I'll match the candle's burn
with pen and paper, naked, white.
My poems and prose need my eye,
my notebook's cameos await my hand
to keyboard, sending work to lie
in publisher's tray on desk so grand.