My Mother Says I’m Sickening
Jack Prelustsky
Daffodils
William Wordsworth
My mother says I’m sickening,
my mother says I’m crude,
she says this when she sees me
playing Ping-Pong with my food,
she doesn’t seem to like it
when I slurp my bowl of stew,
and now she’s got a list of things
she says I mustn’t do-
I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
DO NOT CATAPULT THE CARROTS!
DO NOT JUGGLE GOBS OF FAT!
DO NOT DROP THE MASHED POTATOES
ON THE GERBIL OR THE CAT!
NEVER PUNCH THE PUMPKIN PUDDING!
NEVER TUNNEL THROUGH THE BREAD!
PUT NO PEAS INTO YOUR POCKET!
PLACE NO NOODLES ON YOUR HEAD!
DO NOT SQUEEZE THE STEAMED ZUCCHINI!
DO NOT MAKE THE MELON OOZE!
NEVER STUFF VANILLA YOGHURT
IN YOUR LITTLE SISTER’S SHOES!
DRAW NO FACES IN YOUR KETCHUP!
MAKE NO LITTLE GRAVY POOLS!
I wish my mother wouldn’t make
so many useless rules.
Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.
The waves beside them danced; but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not but be gay,
In such a jocund company:
I gazed--and gazed--but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:
For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.
Yak
Jack Prelustsky
Yickity-yackity, yickity-yak,
the yak has a scriffily, scraffily back,
some yaks are brown yaks and some yaks are black,
yickity-yackity, yickity-yak.
Sniggildy-snaggildy, sniggildy-snag,
the yak is all covered with shiggildy-shag;
he walks with a ziggildy-zaggildy-sag,
sniggildy-snaggildy, sniggildy-snag.
Yickity-yackity, yickity-yak,
the yak has a scriffily, scraffily back,
some yaks are brown yaks and some yaks are black,
yickity-yackity, yickity-yak.
from “Parts”
Tedd Arnold
"I just don't know what's going on
Or why it has to be.
But every day it's something worse.
What's happening to me?
I think it was three days ago
I first became aware-That in my comb were caught a couple
Pieces of my hair.
I stared at them, amazed, and more
Than just a bit appalled
To think that I was only five
And starting to go bald!"
THE VALLEY NIS.
Edgar Allan Poe
from The Bells
Edgar Allan Poe
Far away — far away —
Far away — as far at least
Lies that valley as the day
Down within the golden East —
All things lovely — are not they
One and all, too far away?
Hear the mellow wedding bells Golden bells!
What a world of happiness their harmony foretells!
Through the balmy air of night
How they ring out their delight! From the molten - golden notes,
And all in tune,
What a liquid ditty floats
To the turtle - dove that listens, while she gloats
On the moon!
Oh, from out the sounding cells,
What a gush of euphony voluminously wells!
How it swells!
How it dwells
On the Future! - how it tells
Of the rapture that impels
To the swinging and the ringing
Of the bells, bells, bells Of the bells, bells, bells, bells,
Bells, bells, bells To the rhyming and the chiming of the bells!
It is called the valley Nis:
And a Syriac tale there is
Thereabout which Time hath said
Shall not be interpreted:
Something about Satan’s dart
Something about angel wings —
Much about a broken heart —
All about unhappy things:
But “the valley Nis” at best
Means “the valley of unrest.”
Once it smil’d a silent dell
Where the people did not dwell,
Having gone unto the wars —
And the sly, mysterious stars,
With a visage full of meaning,
O’er th’ unguarded flowers were leaning,
Or the sun-ray dripp’d all red
Thro’ tall tulips overhead,
Then grew paler as it fell
On the quiet Asphodel.
Now each visiter shall confess
Nothing there is motionless:
Nothing save the airs that brood
O’er the enchanted solitude,
Save the airs with pinions furled
That slumber o’er that valley-world.
No wind in Heaven, and lo! the trees
Do roll like seas, in Northern breeze,
Around the stormy Hebrides —
No wind in Heaven, and clouds do fly,
Rustling everlastingly,
Thro’ the terror-stricken sky,
Rolling, like a waterfall,
O’er thi’ horizon’s fiery wall —
And Helen, like thy human eye,
Low crouched on Earth, some violets lie,
And, nearer Heaven, some lilies wave
All banner-like, above a grave.
And one by one, from out their tops
Eternal dews come down in drops,
Ah, one by one, from off their stems
Eternal dews come down in gems!
How do I love thee? Let me count the ways
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
How do I love thee? Let me count the ways
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of Being and ideal Grace.
I love thee to the level of everyday's
Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light.
I love thee freely, as men strive for Right;
I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise.
I love thee with a passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints, --- I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life! --- and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.
DREAM BOOGIE
Langston Hughes
Good morning, daddy!
Ain't you heard
The boogie-woogie rumble
Of a dream deferred?
Listen closely:
You'll hear their feet
Beating out and Beating out a -You think
It's a happy beat?
Listen to it closely:
Ain't you heard
something underneath
like a -What did I say?
Sure,
I'm happy!
Take it away!
Hey, pop!
Re-bop!
Mop!
Y-e-a-h!
Success
Emily Dickinson
Success is counted sweetest
By those who ne'er succeed.
To comprehend a nectar
Requires sorest need.
Not one of all the purple host
Who took the flag to-day
Can tell the definition,
So clear, of victory!
As he, defeated, dying,
On whose forbidden ear
The distant strains of triumph
Burst agonized and clear!
Eldorado
Edgar Allan Poe
Gaily bedight,
A gallant knight,
In sunshine and in shadow,
Had journeyed long,
Singing a song,
In search of Eldorado.
But he grew oldThis knight so boldAnd o'er his heart a shadow
Fell as he found
No spot of ground
That looked like Eldorado.
And, as his strength
Failed him at length,
He met a pilgrim shadow"Shadow," said he,
"Where can it beThis land of Eldorado?"
"Over the Mountains
Of the Moon,
Down the Valley of the Shadow,
Ride, boldly ride,"
The shade replied"If you seek for Eldorado!"
Reapers
Jean Toomer
Black reapers with the sound of steel on stones
Are sharpening scythes. I see them place the hones
In their hip-pockets as a thing that's done,
And start their silent swinging, one by one.
Black horses drive a mower through the weeds,
And there, a field rat, startled, squealing bleeds,
His belly close to ground. I see the blade,
Blood-stained, continue cutting weeds and shade.
A Narrow Fellow in the Grass
Emily Dickinson
A narrow Fellow in the Grass
Occasionally rides –
You may have met Him - Did you not
His notice sudden is –
The Grass divides as with a Comb –
A spotted Shaft is seen,
And then it closes at your Feet
And opens further on –
He likes a Boggy Acre
A Floor too cool for Corn –
But when a Boy, and Barefoot
I more than once at Noon
Have passed, I thought, a Whip lash
Unbraiding in the Sun
When stooping to secure it
It wrinkled, and was gone –
Several of Nature’s People
I know and they know me –
I feel for them a transport
Of Cordiality –
But never met this Fellow
Attended or alone
Without a tighter Breathing
And Zero at the Bone.
Appetite
Anonymous
In a house the size of a postage stamp
lived a man as big as a barge.
His mouth could drink the entire river
You could say it was rather large
For dinner he would eat a trillion beans
And a silo full of grain,
Washed it down with a tanker of milk
As if he were a drain.
Sleeping in the Forest
Mary Oliver
I thought the earth
remembered me, she
took me back so tenderly, arranging
her dark skirts, her pockets
full of lichens and seeds. I slept
as never before, a stone
on the riverbed, nothing
between me and the white fire of the stars
but my thoughts, and they floated
light as moths among the branches
of the perfect trees. All night
I heard the small kingdoms breathing
around me, the insects, and the birds
who do their work in darkness. All night
I rose and fell, as if in water, grappling
with a luminous doom. By morning
I had vanished at least a dozen times
into something better.
Unburden
Julia Acker
Unburden yourself in the breadth of my love.
Open your heart and your mind.
Get lost inside the depths of your soul,
And I will be your escape.
Untether the thoughts that are bound in your mind.
Tell me what troubles you most.
Go to the ends of the earth in your dreams,
And I will be your return.
Release yourself into the strength in my soul.
Provide the essence of you.
Tangle your heart with my love for all time,
And I will be your constant.
On a Snowy Day- Anonymous
Everyone looks like snowmen.
So much snow that it’s like walking up to heaven.
The fireplace is aglow like a giant’s oven.
Our cups of hot chocolate are piled
To the roof of the house
With marshmallows.
We scurry in the house, a bunch of hurried mice,
On a snow day.
Do you see me?
Misty Raprich
Sheltering your thoughts, your soul.
I see you every day.
I feel your presence, your eyes piecing
Nothing for you to say.
I know you, you appeared in my dream,
I heard your words so true.
I smell your kiss, your embrace,
Your eyes own that deep hue.
Impossible- not to be,
these words, you did confide.
But this spark will burn long and slow,
Because we cannot hide.
March For a One-Man Band
David Wagoner
He’s a boom a blat in the uniform
Of an army tweedledy band a toot
Complete with medals a honk cornet
Against a thump one side of his lips
And the other stuck with a sloop a tweet
A whistle a crash on top of a crash
A helmet a crash a cymbal a drum
At his bumbledy knee and a rimshot flag
A click he stands at attention a wheeze
A plays the Irrational Anthem bang.
THE FOURTH
Shel Silverstein
Oh
CRASH!
my
BASH!
it’s
BANG!
the
ZANG!
Fourth
WHOOSH!
of
BAROOOM!
July
WHEW!
SNOWBALL
Shel Silverstein
I made myself a snowball
As perfect as could be.
I thought I’d keep it as a pet
And let it sleep with me.
I made it some pajamas
And a pillow for its head.
Then last night it ran away,
But first – it wet the bed.
The Other House
David Wagoner
As a boy, I haunted an abandoned house
Whose basement was always full of dark-green water
Or dark-green ice in winter,
Where frogs came back to life and sang each spring.
On broken concrete under the skeleton
Of a roof, insdie ribbed walls, I listened alone
Where the basement stairs went down
Under the water, down into their music.
During storms, our proper house would be flooded too.
the water would spouit from drains, through the foundation
And climb the basement stairs
But silently, and would go away silently,
As silent as my mother and father were
All day and during dinner and after
And after the radio
With hardly a murmur all the way into sleep.
Allwinter, the frogs had slept in an icy bed,
Remembering how to sing when it melted.
If I made a sound, they stopped
And listened to me sing nothing, singing nothing.
But gradually, finally April would come pouring
Out of their green throats in a green chorus
To a chorus me home toward silence.
Theirs was the only house that sang all night.
Well…it is kind of cute at that.
The Voice
Shel Silverstein
There is a voice inside of you
That whispers all day long
“I feel that this is right for me,
I know that this is wrong.”
No teacher, preacher, parent, friend
Or wise man can decide
Poetry
Catherine Zelinski
Poetry is not paper and ink
It is life and emotion
It can’t be written with
a snap of your fingers,
But it is caused by the
beat of your heart
What’s right for you- just listen to
The voice that speaks inside.
NO THANK YOU
Shel Silverstein
MIRROR, MIRROR
Shel Silverstein
QUEEN:
Mirror, mirror on the wall,
No cute, cuddly kitty-poo,
MIRROR:
Snow White, Snow White, Snow White—
No more midngiht meowing mews.
QUEEN:
Mirror, mirror on the wall,
No I do not want a kitten,
No more long hair in my cornflakes,
No more smell of kitty liter,
No more mousies in my bed.
No I will not take that kitten—
I’ve had lice and I’ve had fleas,
I’ve been scratched and sprayed and bitten,
I’ve developed allergies.
I’ve told you a million times tonight.
What would happen if I let you fall?
You’d shatter to bits with a clang and a crash,
No more scratchin’, snarlin’, spitters,
No more sofas clawed to shreds,
Who is the fiar of them all?
trash,
Your glass would be splintered—swept out with the
Your frame would be bent, lying here on the floor—
MIRROR:
Hey…go ahead, ask me just once more.
QUEEN:
Mirror, mirror on the wall,
MIRROR:
You—you–It’s true,
Who is the fairest of them all?
The fairest of all is you—you—you.
(Whew!)
If you’ve got an ape, I’ll take him,
If you have a lion, that fine,
If you brought some walking bacon,
Leave him here, I’ll treat him kind.
I have room for mice and gerbils,
I have beds for boars and bats,
But please, please take away that kitten—
Quick—‘fore it becomes a cat.
Night
Catherine Zelinski
After the day, the peaceful evening comes.
The light breezes shake the trees
and the crickets begin to sing.
Fireflies brighten the dark treetops.
Slowly the world drifts off to sleep
so it can be ready for the new day.
who has ever taken a tumble.
I will always list first
When counting my blessings
His most precious gifts of all…
Guardian Angel for Boys
Joyce Winkler
Just shortly after the birth of a boy
A strange transformation occurs.
The trusted backyard, though carefully tended
Grows jungles and castles and boats.
Spies and inventors take over the garden
An ocean erupts near the fence.
And right in the middle of innocent daisies
A secret passage is formed.
Then just as it seems the changes are calming~
A racket descends
from above:
The great aging shade tree~
Once mellow and lazy
Sprouts hideouts for captains and crooks.
This is a world for dreaming~
for planning
For treasures and journeys and battles
This is God’s gift through my little Good Guy
~And the Guardian Angel beside him.
Guardian Angel for Girls
Joyce Winkler
For each little girl
born into this world…
I know God sends a helper~
A Guardian Angel filled with light
To touch our own sweet angels.
The proof of God’s gift
Lives in the hearts…
Of Moms & Dads who blink
And in the smile
of each little girl
My own little girl
And his extended care
In the form of Guardian Angels