Looking for a poetry book I had when I was a child, don't know the name or author?

Looking for a poetry book I had when I was a child, don't know the name or author. It was a hard back with a thin red cloth cover and a person pulling a rope and hanging upside down. It had poetry.

Limericks, short stories and a whole section on flowers. I would really like to know the name of this book if anyone can help me I would really appreciate it. Asked by Fluffylace 22 months ago Similar questions: poetry book child author Arts > Books > Books - Poetry.

Similar questions: poetry book child author.

Poetry book I had when I was a child, don't know the name or author... ABOUT THE AUTHOR (1915- ) I'm afraid that I don't know much about Jane Werner Watson, but a great-niece wrote in that she is in her eighties and living in California. Werner wrote and edited many children's books from 1944-1978 (mostly in the '50s) and has published under at least three different variations of her name: Elsa Jane Werner, Jane Werner, and Jane Werner Watson. Many of these were for Golden Books, including at least 35 Little Golden Books, and many for Walt Disney Productions.

Some are religious in theme, some silly or comic, and some truly magical. LOGANBERRY LEGACYPerhaps even more famous than Jane Werner around here is Garth Williams, who illustrated two of the most famous and sought-after Werner titles. After decades of (expensive) out-of-print status, The Golden Treasury of Elves and Fairies was reprinted in 1999, and quickly went out-of-print again.

But wait! Random House, which purchased the defunct Golden Press, has brought it back again! After a two year wait, it's finally here, 9/9/2008, and available for the bargain price of $16.99.

We're filling advanced orders now, but feel free to add your name to the list. We have plenty. (Scroll down.) Also back in print is Walt Disney's Grandpa Bunny, and it's as cheap as LGBs always were.

The Tall Book of Make-Believe, alas, remains on the out-of-print list. For complete contents of both The Tall Book of Make-Believe and The Golden Treasury of Elves and Fairies, see the Anthologies Finder. **Elves and Fairies is back in print!

**BIBLIOGRAPHY* designates a title still in printBig Golden Book of Poetry. Edited by Jane Werner. Illustrated by Gertrude Elliott.

Golden Press, 1949. A Catholic Child's Bible: The Old Testament.(with Charles Hartman.) A Giant Golden Book, illustrated by Feodor Rojankovsky. Simon & Schuster, 1958.

A Catholic Child's Bible: The New Testament.(with Charles Hartman.) Simon & Schuster 1958. Chatterly Squirrel. Illustrated by J.P. MIller.

Simon & Schuster, 1950. A Child's Book of Bible Stories: From the Garden of Eden to the Promised Land. Illustrated by Masha.

Random House, 1944. Christopher Bunny. Illustrated by Richard Scarry, Simon & Schuster, 1949.

*The Giant Golden Book of Elves and Fairies with assorted Pixies, Mermaids, Brownies, Witches, and Leprechauns. Illustrated by Garth Williams.1) NY: Simon and Schuster, 1951 (originally with green cover)2) 1950s reprint with cover title The Big Golden Book of Elves and Fairies (most common; white cover)3) London: Golden Pleasure Books, 1962, titled The Elves and Fairies Book4) copyright renewed by Golden Books Publishing, 1979 5) NY: Golden Books, 1999, titled The Golden Books Treasury of Elves and Fairies (blue cover) Sources: http://www.rob.com/loganberry/most-werner.html .

The Nightwolf Series: Book One by Melody Ravert is the name of the book. A sneak preview of the adventures of Nightwolf and Midnight. This story is dedicated to and inspired from real costumed streetfighters.

This is for you guys! In Search of a HeroPrologueHeavy drops of rain plummeted to the ground as streaks of lightning radiated against the blackened sky. The rumbling sounds of thunder in the distance increased in fury as the storm poured out its wrath on anyone unfortunate enough to be in its path.

Inside an alley, a flight of stairs leads downward into a small recently renovated basement club of the Black Knights, a notorious street gang staking out their turf in downtown Baltimore, Maryland. It was initiation time and six husky members surrounded a new recruit in a tight circle. The potential gang banger would need to survive through a beating at the hands of each of the burly men.

Only if he lived would he be accepted into their membership. "So, you want to be a member of the Knights? " the one who seemed to be the leader of the group sneered.

The one in the center of the gauntlet stood quietly defiant, keeping his glance locked straight ahead as the first guy balled his hand into a fist and jammed it into his abdomen. As he doubled over, someone shoved him from behind. He felt the blow from a leathered boot in the small of his back, causing him to lose his balance and fall face down on the worn carpet."Sorry, we haven't had a chance to put in new carpeting," one guy laughed.

"Tell me, can you feel the cement? " Slowly the recruit lifted his head, blood streaming from his nose.As one, the six stepped up and began to pummel him, not allowing him so much as a second to raise his arms in either surrender or retaliation, until he collapsed back onto the floor. "Come on man, get up!

My mother could kick your sorry butt."The Knights took turns kicking him several times on each side before one swift kick hit so hard, it shoved him over onto his back. Disfigured beyond recognition, breaths coming in short raspy gasps, he could only grunt as pain shot through him. Slowly touching his side, he winced as he felt his shattered ribs.

Beneath swollen eyes he could only watch the light from a single bulb hanging high overhead sway to the rhythm of the storm raging outside while casting its stark pallor over the motley group. With a great flash of lightning flashing through the sky outside, the bulb sparked and died, allowing the darkness to sweep over the men. As they began to scramble around to find a flashlight, the sound of wood violently splintering pierced the quiet."Something's out there!

" One of the gang members said, looking toward the door. "It's your imagination, stupid," said another."There's nothing out there. " He stood as the bulb sparked into a dim copy of its former brilliance.

“Look, I’ll show you,” and as the light turned even dimmer, now barely enough to even be called lit, this cocky member of the Knights stumbled his way toward the door. Reaching for the knob, instead of a rounded piece of brass, he was met with a hard steel grasp as his fingers were snapped and he screamed out in pain. Slowly this stranger released his grip, and the Knight fell to his knees sobbing.

Looking up, he found himself staring at the form of a man covered head to toe, only his piercing cold blue eyes could be seen through slits of his full black face mask. The bulb light shown slightly brighter, allowing more details to be made out. The black full head mask was airbrushed with the image of a wolf‘s face; teeth barred as if about to attack.

The black jumpsuit was trimmed in blood red around the collar and at both wrists and pant cuffs, and over his heart was an image of a wolf’s paw, the claws poised for assault. Around his waist, a belt of the same dark red as the trim, with pockets attached completed the outfit. “And who do you think you’re supposed to be?

” Another of the Knights said, forgetting about the wounded candidate on the floor and staring at the masked intruder, “Trick or treat done passed dude.”“Nightwolf,” the stranger said in a voice like a low roar as he strode effortlessly into the room, “but you can call me your doom. ”"The only thing I’m going to call you is dead! " Another member said, and then reaching in his side pocket, he flicked open a switchblade with a single motion and ran forward, lunging toward the masked man.

Sources: http://www.authorsden.com/visit/viewwork.asp?id=15867 .

Poetry book I had when I was a child, don't know the name or author... For other persons named James or Jim Morrison, see James Morrison. Jim MorrisonPerforming with The Doors, Frankfurt am Main, Germany, 1968Background informationBirth name James Douglas MorrisonBorn 3-12-088(1943-12-08)Melbourne, Florida, U.S.Died July 3, 1971 (aged 27)Paris, FranceGenres Psychedelic rock, acid rock, blues-rock, hard rockOccupations Musician, Songwriter, Poet, FilmmakerYears active 1963—1949.56Labels Elektra, ColumbiaAssociated acts The Doors, Rick & the RavensWebsite http://www.thedoors.com/James Douglas "Jim" Morrison (3-12-088 – July 3, 1971) was an American singer, songwriter, poet, writer and filmmaker. He was best known as the lead singer and lyricist of The Doors and is widely considered to be one of the most charismatic frontmen in rock music history.1 He was also the author of several books of poetry1 and the director of a documentary and short film.

Although Morrison was known for his baritone vocals, many fans, scholars, and journalists have discussed his theatrical stage persona, his self-destructiveness, and his work as a poet.2 He was ranked number 47 on Rolling Stone's "100 Greatest Singers of All Time". Morrison was born in Melbourne, Florida, to future Admiral George Stephen Morrison and Clara Clarke Morrison. Morrison had a sister, Anne Robin, who was born in 1947 in Albuquerque, New Mexico, and a brother, Andrew Lee Morrison, who was born in 1949.56 in Los Altos, California.

He was of Scottish, Irish, and English descent.4 He reportedly had an I.Q. of 149.56In 1947, Morrison, then four years old, allegedly witnessed a car accident in the desert, where a family of Native Americans were injured and possibly killed. He referred to this incident in a spoken word performance on the song "Dawn's ghway" from the album An American Prayer, and again in the songs "Peace Frog" and "Ghost Song". Edit Dawn's ghway Lyric Indians scattered on dawn's highway bleeding Ghosts crowd the young child's fragile eggshell mindMorrison believed the incident to be the most formative event in his life and made repeated references to it in the imagery in his songs, poems, and interviews.

Interestingly, his family does not recall this incident happening in the way he told it. According to the Morrison biography No One Here Gets Out Alive, Morrison's family did drive past a car accident on an Indian reservation when he was a child, and he was very upset by it. However, the book The Doors written by the remaining members of The Doors, explains how different Morrison's account of the incident was from the account of his father.

This book quotes his father as saying, "We went by several Indians. It did make an impression on him the young James. He always thought about that crying Indian."

This is contrasted sharply with Morrison's tale of "Indians scattered all over the highway, bleeding to death". In the same book, his sister is quoted as saying, "He enjoyed telling that story and exaggerating it. He said he saw a dead Indian by the side of the road, and I don't even know if that's true."With his father in the United States Navy, Morrison's family moved often.

He spent part of his childhood in San Diego, California. In 1958, Morrison attended Alameda California. However, he graduated from George Washington gh School (now George Washington Middle School) in Alexandria, Virginia in June 1961.

S father was also stationed at Mayport Naval Air Station in Jacksonville, Florida. Morrison went to live with his paternal grandparents in Clearwater, Florida where he attended classes at St. Petersburg Junior College.In 1962, he transferred to Florida State University (FSU) in Tallahassee where he appeared in a school recruitment film.7 While attending FSU Morrison was arrested for a prank, following a home football game.8In January 1964, Morrison moved to Los Angeles, California. He completed his undergraduate degree in UCLA's film school, the Theater Arts department of the College of Fine Arts in 1965.

He made two films while attending UCLA. First Love, the first of these films, was released to the public when it appeared in a documentary about the film Obscura. During these years, while living in Venice Beach, he became friends with writers at the Los Angeles Free Press.

Morrison was an advocate of the underground newspaper until his death in 1949.56. Sources: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jim_Morrison .

The World's Greatest Short Stories (Dover Thrift Editions) Price: $3.50 & eligible for FREE Super Saver Shipping on orders over $25. Details Special Offers Available o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o oIn Stock. Ships from and sold by Amazon.com.

Gift-wrap available. Want it delivered Tuesday, February 23? Order it in the next 6 hours and 55 minutes, and choose One-Day Shipping at checkout.

Details33 new from $1.65 29 used from $1.60 Editorial ReviewsProduct DescriptionThis outstanding collection features short stories by great writers from America, the United Kingdom, Ireland, and Western Europe. Ranging from the 19th to the 20th centuries, writers include Poe, Chekhov, Joyce, Kafka, Faulkner, Pirandello, Mann, and other major writers of world literature. A wonderfully wide-ranging and enjoyable anthology.

Product Details * Paperback: 256 pages * Publisher: Dover Publications (April 28, 2006) * Language: English * ISBN-10: 0486447162 * ISBN-13: 978-0486447162 * Product Dimensions: 8 x 5.2 x 0.8 inches * Shipping Weight: 6.4 ounces (View shipping rates and policies) * Average Customer Review: 5.0 out of 5 stars See all reviews (2 customer reviews) 2 Reviews 5 star: (2) 4 star: (0) 3 star: (0) 2 star: (0) 1 star: (0) › See all 2 customer reviews... * Amazon.com Sales Rank: #9,236 in Books (See Bestsellers in Books) Popular in this category: (What's this? ) #40 in Books > Literature & Fiction > Short Stories > Anthologies Sources: http://www.amazon.com/Worlds-Greatest-Stories-Thrift-Editions/dp/0486447162/ref=sr_1_7?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1266859934&sr=8-7 .

The Nightwolf Series: Book One A sneak preview of the adventures of Nightwolf and Midnight. This story is dedicated to and inspired from real costumed streetfighters. This is for you guys!

In Search of a HeroPrologueHeavy drops of rain plummeted to the ground as streaks of lightning radiated against the blackened sky. The rumbling sounds of thunder in the distance increased in fury as the storm poured out its wrath on anyone unfortunate enough to be in its path. Inside an alley, a flight of stairs leads downward into a small recently renovated basement club of the Black Knights, a notorious street gang staking out their turf in downtown Baltimore, Maryland.It was initiation time and six husky members surrounded a new recruit in a tight circle.

The potential gang banger would need to survive through a beating at the hands of each of the burly men. Only if he lived would he be accepted into their membership."So, you want to be a member of the Knights? " the one who seemed to be the leader of the group sneered.

The one in the center of the gauntlet stood quietly defiant, keeping his glance locked straight ahead as the first guy balled his hand into a fist and jammed it into his abdomen.As he doubled over, someone shoved him from behind. He felt the blow from a leathered boot in the small of his back, causing him to lose his balance and fall face down on the worn carpet. "Sorry, we haven't had a chance to put in new carpeting," one guy laughed."Tell me, can you feel the cement?

" Slowly the recruit lifted his head, blood streaming from his nose. As one, the six stepped up and began to pummel him, not allowing him so much as a second to raise his arms in either surrender or retaliation, until he collapsed back onto the floor."Come on man, get up! My mother could kick your sorry butt.

"The Knights took turns kicking him several times on each side before one swift kick hit so hard, it shoved him over onto his back. Disfigured beyond recognition, breaths coming in short raspy gasps, he could only grunt as pain shot through him. Slowly touching his side, he winced as he felt his shattered ribs.

Beneath swollen eyes he could only watch the light from a single bulb hanging high overhead sway to the rhythm of the storm raging outside while casting its stark pallor over the motley group. With a great flash of lightning flashing through the sky outside, the bulb sparked and died, allowing the darkness to sweep over the men. As they began to scramble around to find a flashlight, the sound of wood violently splintering pierced the quiet.

"Something's out there!" One of the gang members said, looking toward the door. "It's your imagination, stupid," said another.

"There's nothing out there." He stood as the bulb sparked into a dim copy of its former brilliance. “Look, I’ll show you,” and as the light turned even dimmer, now barely enough to even be called lit, this cocky member of the Knights stumbled his way toward the door.

Reaching for the knob, instead of a rounded piece of brass, he was met with a hard steel grasp as his fingers were snapped and he screamed out in pain. Slowly this stranger released his grip, and the Knight fell to his knees sobbing. Looking up, he found himself staring at the form of a man covered head to toe, only his piercing cold blue eyes could be seen through slits of his full black face mask.

The bulb light shown slightly brighter, allowing more details to be made out. The black full head mask was airbrushed with the image of a wolf‘s face; teeth barred as if about to attack. The black jumpsuit was trimmed in blood red around the collar and at both wrists and pant cuffs, and over his heart was an image of a wolf’s paw, the claws poised for assault.

Around his waist, a belt of the same dark red as the trim, with pockets attached completed the outfit. “And who do you think you’re supposed to be? ” Another of the Knights said, forgetting about the wounded candidate on the floor and staring at the masked intruder, “Trick or treat done passed dude.

”“Nightwolf,” the stranger said in a voice like a low roar as he strode effortlessly into the room, “but you can call me your doom.”"The only thing I’m going to call you is dead! " Another member said, and then reaching in his side pocket, he flicked open a switchblade with a single motion and ran forward, lunging toward the masked man. Sources: http://www.authorsden.com/visit/viewwork.asp?id=15867 .

I love his poetry. Nine Horses, was wonderful. " "How exactly can I get my new book of poetry on Amazon?" "What do you think of this poem given as an example of a "parody" in a children's intro to poetry book?

" "Ask a question! How to publish poetry book" "Looking for child's poetry book, containing a poem written like a maze..." "Please Review my poetry!" "Do you know of any good poetry websites?

Is there a book of poetry for Mother's Day by the poet Xavier Somerfield.

I love his poetry. Nine Horses, was wonderful.

Ask a question! How to publish poetry book.

Looking for child's poetry book, containing a poem written like a maze...

I cant really gove you an answer,but what I can give you is a way to a solution, that is you have to find the anglde that you relate to or peaks your interest. A good paper is one that people get drawn into because it reaches them ln some way.As for me WW11 to me, I think of the holocaust and the effect it had on the survivors, their families and those who stood by and did nothing until it was too late.