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Believe
I believe when you are kind to others,
They will be kind to you.
I believe, when you believe -
All of your dreams can come true.
I believe in me and all of my abilities,
I believe, when you believe -
You can create your own opportunities.
I believe in love as the master plan,
I believe, when you believe -
Love can make you say, "I can!"
I believe in the need to look beyond what I can see,
I believe, when you believe -
It is your courage that will set you free!
I believe! Yes! I believe!
This poem is from the book Me! Ten Poetic Affirmations by Julius B. Anthony, president of the St. Louis Black Authors of Children’s Literature. The book can be found at: www.stlblackauthors.com along with information about this group and their mission\
Julius B. Anthony, President
St. Louis Black Authors of Children's Literature
3934 Hartford Street
St. Louis, MO 63116
(682) 521-2236
Peggy Archer writes fiction, poetry, and non-fiction for children.Besides writing for children, she is a retired registered nurse and has worked with children in schools and hospitals. She and her husband have six
grown children, 11 grandchildren, and one great-grandchild. They live in O'Fallon, Missouri.
Taken in part from the author’s blog post in 2009 and from the author website at www.peggyarcher.com . Used with the author’s permission.
I write children’s poetry because of my dog. Oh, not that I haven’t always loved children’s poetry! And not that I had never had a poem published before. But Snickers did know how to push my buttons. She’s the one that really pushed me.
Snickers wasn’t just any puppy! She was funny, crazy, and adorable. Besides that, she peed on the floor and chewed on our new kitchen cabinets. She pulled the tablecloth off the kitchen table and ate the cat food on the porch next door. She sat in my garden and ate my flowers. So much to write about! And it all happened faster than I had time to write about it.
I had to find a way to remember it all. The answer, I thought, was poetry. Poetry was short. It didn’t matter how good it was, since it was only to help me remember. It would help save all of those memories and the stories that went with them for later when I would sit down and write about them.
So, I wrote poetry. Bad poetry. I thought it wouldn’t matter. I thought I could handle it. I couldn’t stand it! So, I read poetry, read about poetry and wrote A Dog’s House
Peggy Archer
A Dog’s House
Noseprints on the window.
Pawprints on the door.
Bones are in the pantry,
Dishes on the floor.
You left your mark upon this house.
You claimed it from the start.
With noseprints on the window,
And pawprints on the heart.
Pawprints
.
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