Lexiepoetry

 Shel Silverstein:

"Turkey?"

 I only ate one drumstick

At the picnic dance this summer,

Just on little drumstick--

They say I couldn’t be dumber.

One tough and skinny drumstick,

Why is that such a bummer?

But everybody’s mad at me,

Especially the drummer.



"They Say I Have..."

They say I have my father’s nose,

My grandpa’s eyes,

My mother’s hair.

Could it be that my behind’s

The only thing that’s really mine? 

 "The Runners!"

Why does our track team run so fast

And jump with zest and zeal?

We owe it all to our great coach

And our wonderful practice field. 

"Glub-Glub!"

He thought it was

The biggest puddle

He’d go splashing through.

Turns out it was

The smallest lake--

And the deepest too.  

"Cookwitch Sandwich!"

I heard that Katrina

The Cook was a witch,

But me, I’m such

A stupid kid,

I yelled, “Hey! Katrina,

Make me a sandwich,”

And ZAP--

She did!

"Carrots!"

They say that carrots are good for your eyes,

They swear they improve your sight,

But I’m seein’ worse than I did last night--

You think maybe I  ain‘t usin’ ’em right? 

"Best Mask?"

They just had a contest for scariest mask,

And I was the wild and daring one 

Who won the contest for scariest mask--

And (sob) I’m not even wearing one.

"Christmas Dog!"

Tonight’s my first night as a watchdog,

And here it is Christmas Eve.

The children are sleepin’ all cozy upstairs,

While I’m guardin’ the stocking’s and tree.

What’s that now--footsteps on the rooftop?

Could it be a cat or a mouse?

Who’s this down the chimney?

A thief with a beard--

And a big sack for robbin’ the house?

I’m barkin’, I’m growlin’, I’m bittin’ his butt.

He howls and jumps back in his sleigh.

I scare his strange horses, they leap in the air.

I’ve frightened the whole bunch away.

Now the house is all peaceful and quiet again,

The stocking’s are safe as can be.

Won’t the kiddies be glad when they wake up tomorrow

And see how I’ve guarded the tree. 

"Haunted!"

I dare you all to go into

The Haunted House on Howlin’ Hill,

Where squiggly things with yellow eyes

Peek past the wormy window sill.

We’ll creep into the moonlit yard,

Where weeds reach out like fingers,

And through the rotted old front door

A-squeakin’ on hinges,

Down the dark and whisperin’ hall,

Past the musty study,

Up the windin’ staircase--

Don’t step on the step that’s bloody--

Through the secret panel

To the bedroom where we’ll slide in

To the ragged cobweb dusty bed

Ten people must have died in.

And the bats will screech,

And the spirits will scream,

And the thunder will crash

Like a horrible dream,

And we’ll sing with the zombies

And dance with the dead,

And howl at the ghost

With the axe in his head,

And--come to think of it what do you say

We go get some ice cream instead?

"Headless Town!"

Selling hats in Headless Town--

Special sale, so gather ‘round.

Short brim, wide brim, white or brown,

Hats for sale--in Headless Town.

Selling hats in Headless Town--

Stetson, bonnet, cap, or crown,

Isn’t there one soul around

Who needs a hat in Headless Town?

Selling hats in Headless Town

Sure can bring a fella down,

But there’s a way

If there’s a will

(I once sold shoes

In Footlessville).

"One Out of Sixteen!"

I’m no good at History,

Science makes no sense to me,

Music is a mystery,

English is no friend to me,

Math is my worst enemy,

Reading is a chore to me,

Geography just loses me,

I hate Sociology,

Chemistry confuses me,

I barf in Biology,

Astronomy’s just stars at me,

Botany’s just flower smelling,

Even Art’s too hard for me.

Well, at least I’m good at Speling!

" Red Flowers For You!"

They could be poison ivy,

They might be poison oak,

But anyway, here’s your banquet!

Hey--can’t you take a joke?

"Sittin' Around!"

Sittin’ ‘round the campfire

With a Werewolf, a Ghoul, and a Vampire,

I told ‘em the story of Murderin’ Mack,

And the Ghoul ran off screamin’

And never came back.

Sittin’ ‘round the campfire

With a Werewolf and a Vampire,

I told ‘em the tale of Three-Headed Ed,

And the Werewolf ran home

And hid under the bed.

Sittin’ ‘round the campfire

Just me and that ol’ Vampire,

I read him the poem of the skeleton bone,

And now it’s just me,

Sittin’ here all alone.

"Sorry I Spilled It!"

The ham’s on your pillow,

You’re eggs in your sheet,

The bran muffin’s rollin’

Down under your feet,

There’s milk in the mattress,

And juice on the spread--

Well, you said that you wanted

Your breakfast in bed. 

"The Nap Taker!"

No--I did not take a nap--

The nap--took--me

Off the bed and out the window

Far beyond the sea,

To a land where sleepy heads

Read only comic books

And lock their naps in iron safes

So that they can’t get took.

And soon as I came to that land,

I also came to grief.

The people pointed at me, shouting,

“Where’s the nap, you thief?”

They took me to the courthouse. 

The judge put on his cap.

He said, “My child, you are on trial

For taking someone’s nap.

“Yes, all you selfish children,

You think of just yourselves

And don’t care if the nap you take

Belongs to someone else.

It happens that the nap you took

Without a thought or care

Belongs to Bonnie Bowlingbrook,

Who’s sittin’ cryin’ there.

“She hasn’t slept in quite some time--

Just see her eyelids flap.

She’s tired and drowsy--cranky too,

‘Cause guess who took her nap?”

The jury cried, “You’re guilty, yes,

You’re guilty as can be,

But just return the nap you took

And we might set you free.”

“I did not take that nap,” I cried,

“I give my solemn vow,

And if I took it by mistake

I do not have it now.”

“Oh fiddle-fudge,” cried out the judge,

“You’re record looks quite sour.

Last night I see you stole a kiss,

Last week you took a shower,

“You beat your eggs, you’ve whipped your cream,

At work you punched the clock,

You’ve even killed an hour or two,

We’ve heard you darn your socks,

We know you shot a basketball,

You’ve stole second base,

And we can see you’re guilty

From the sleep that’s on you’re face.

“Go lie down on your blanket now

And cry your guilty tears.

I sentence you to one long nap

For ninety million years.

And when the other children see

This nap that never ends,

No child will ever dare to take

Somebody’s nap again.” 

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Eleanor Farjeon:

What is Poetry? Who knows?