Hykilpikonna
219 lines
5.1 KiB
Plaintext
219 lines
5.1 KiB
Plaintext
Its Dark in Here
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I am writing these poems
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From inside a lion,
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And it's rather dark in here.
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So please excuse the handwriting
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Which may not be too clear.
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But this afternoon by the lion's cage
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I'm afraid I got too near.
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And I'm writing these lines
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From inside a lion,
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And it's rather dark in here.
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Boa Constrictor
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Oh, I'm being eaten
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By a boa constrictor,
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A boa constrictor,
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A boa constrictor,
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I'm being eaten by a boa constrictor,
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And I don't like it--one bit.
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Well, what do you know?
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It's nibblin' my toe.
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Oh, gee,
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It's up to my knee.
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Oh my,
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It's up to my thigh.
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Oh, fiddle,
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It's up to my middle.
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Oh, heck,
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It's up to my neck.
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Oh, dread,
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It's upmmmmmmmmmmffffffffff .
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.
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.
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Where the Sidewalk Ends
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There is a place where the sidewalk ends
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And before the street begins,
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And there the grass grows soft and white,
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And there the sun burns crimson bright,
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And there the moon-bird rests from his flight
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To cool in the peppermint wind.
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Let us leave this place where the smoke blows black
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And the dark street winds and bends.
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Past the pits where the asphalt flowers grow
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We shall walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
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And watch where the chalk-white arrows go
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To the place where the sidewalk ends.
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Yes we'll walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
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And we'll go where the chalk-white arrows go,
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For the children, they mark, and the children, they know
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One Inch Tall
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If you were only one inch tall, you'd ride a worm to school.
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The teardrop of a crying ant would be your swimming pool.
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A crumb of cake would be a feast
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And last you seven days at least,
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A flea would be a frightening beast
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If you were one inch tall.
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If you were only one inch tall, you'd walk beneath the door,
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And it would take about a month to get down to the store.
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A bit of fluff would be your bed,
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You'd swing upon a spider's thread,
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And wear a thimble on your head
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If you were one inch tall.
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You'd surf across the kitchen sink upon a stick of gum.
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You couldn't hug your mama, you'd just have to hug her thumb.
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You'd run from people's feet in fright,
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To move a pen would take all night,
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(This poem took fourteen years to write--
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'Cause I'm just one inch tall).
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Rain
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I opened my eyes
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And looked up at the rain,
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And it dripped in my head
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And flowed into my brain,
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And all that I hear as I lie in my bed
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Is the slishity-slosh of the rain in my head.
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I step very softly,
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I walk very slow,
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I can't do a handstand--
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I might overflow,
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So pardon the wild crazy thing I just said--
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I'm just not the same since there's rain in my head.
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Whatif
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Last night, while I lay thinking here,
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some Whatifs crawled inside my ear
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and pranced and partied all night long
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and sang their same old Whatif song:
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Whatif I'm dumb in school?
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Whatif they've closed the swimming pool?
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Whatif I get beat up?
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Whatif there's poison in my cup?
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Whatif I start to cry?
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Whatif I get sick and die?
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Whatif I flunk that test?
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Whatif green hair grows on my chest?
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Whatif nobody likes me?
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Whatif a bolt of lightning strikes me?
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Whatif I don't grow talle?
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Whatif my head starts getting smaller?
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Whatif the fish won't bite?
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Whatif the wind tears up my kite?
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Whatif they start a war?
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Whatif my parents get divorced?
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Whatif the bus is late?
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Whatif my teeth don't grow in straight?
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Whatif I tear my pants?
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Whatif I never learn to dance?
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Everything seems well, and then
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the nighttime Whatifs strike again!
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I cannot go to school today!
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I cannot go to school today!
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by Shel Silverstein
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"I cannot go to school today"
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Said little Peggy Ann McKay.
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"I have the measles and the mumps,
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A gash, a rash and purple bumps.
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My mouth is wet, my throat is dry.
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I'm going blind in my right eye.
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My tonsils are as big as rocks,
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I've counted sixteen chicken pox.
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And there's one more - that's seventeen,
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And don't you think my face looks green?
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My leg is cut, my eyes are blue,
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It might be the instamatic flu.
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I cough and sneeze and gasp and choke,
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I'm sure that my left leg is broke.
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My hip hurts when I move my chin,
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My belly button's caving in.
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My back is wrenched, my ankle's sprained,
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My 'pendix pains each time it rains.
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My toes are cold, my toes are numb,
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I have a sliver in my thumb.
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My neck is stiff, my voice is weak,
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I hardly whisper when I speak.
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My tongue is filling up my mouth,
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I think my hair is falling out.
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My elbow's bent, my spine ain't straight,
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My temperature is one-o-eight.
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My brain is shrunk, I cannot hear,
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There is a hole inside my ear.
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I have a hangnail, and my heart is ...
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What? What's that? What's that you say?
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You say today is .............. Saturday?
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G'bye, I'm going out to play!"
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Messy Room
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Whosever room this is should be ashamed!
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His underwear is hanging on the lamp.
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His raincoat is there in the overstuffed chair,
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And the chair is becoming quite mucky and damp.
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His workbook is wedged in the window,
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His sweater's been thrown on the floor.
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His scarf and one ski are beneath the TV,
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And his pants have been carelessly hung on the door.
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His books are all jammed in the closet,
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His vest has been left in the hall.
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A lizard named Ed is asleep in his bed,
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And his smelly old sock has been stuck to the wall.
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Whosever room this is should be ashamed!
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Donald or Robert or Willie or--
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Huh? You say it's mine? Oh, dear,
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I knew it looked familiar!
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