Samuel Chelpka: Poetry for a Change

Samuel Chelpka is most known for his memorisation and recitation of poetry from a young age. He was 3 years old when he recited Billy Collin’s ‘Litany’ and became a Youtube sensation.  When Samuel was 4 years old he met his poetic hero at the University of Arizona Poetry Center. How many 4-year-olds have poets as heroes? Samuel does!

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ABOUT Samuel Chelpka

“Many people ask Samuel’s parents Christopher and Della Chelpka whether Samuel understands what he’s saying. They ask whether that matters.

“You’ve probably had that experience where you’ve read a poem and you don’t feel like you know what it ‘means’, yet you still enjoy it,” Christopher said.

“There’s something about the rhythm and the images that sparks your imagination.” “He loves words,” Della Chelpka said. “He loves saying them and hearing them in many different forms.” Yet for all his sophistication, Samuel is still learning the basics of language. Precocious? I don’t think so. Lover of poetry — Absolutely!”

The VIDEO

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Moon Folly

I will go up the mountain after the Moon:
She is caught in a dead fir-tree
Like a great pale apple of silver and pearl,
Like a great pale apple is she.

I will leap and will clasp her in quick cold hands
And carry her home in my sack
I will set her down safe on the oaken bench
That stands at the chimney-back.

And then I will sit by the fire all night,
And sit by the fire all day
I will gnaw at the Moon to my heart’s delight,
Till I gnaw her slowly away.

And while I grow mad with the Moon’s cold taste,
The World may beat on my door,
Crying “Come out!” and crying “Make haste!
And give us the Moon once more!”

But I will not answer them ever at all;
I will laugh, as I count and hide
The great black beautiful seeds of the Moon
In a flower-pot deep and wide.

Then I will lie down and go fast asleep,
Drunken with flame and aswoon.
But the seeds will sprout, and the seeds will leap:
The subtle swift seeds of the Moon.

And some day, all of the world that beats
And cries at my door, shall see
A thousand moon-leaves sprout from my thatch
On a marvellous white Moon-tree!

Then each shall have moons to his heart’s desire:
Apples of silver and pearl:
Apples of orange and copper fire,
Setting his five wits aswirl.

And then they will thank me, who mock me now:
“Wanting the Moon is he!”
Oh, I’m off to the mountain after the Moon,
Ere she falls from the dead fir-tree!

– by Fannie Stearns Davis