POEMS FOR FUN
A Secret in My Pocket
I have a secret in my pocket. It goes everywhere with me. My secret is invisible, Impossible to see. It's the twinkle in the stars, And the sprinkle-covered cone. It's everything that makes me laugh Aloud when I'm alone. It's the maple in my syrup, And the bubble in my bath, The streamers on my bicycle, My hidden garden path. It's the whiskers on a kitten, And the bumble in a bee. It's every little secret thing I've wanted it to be. ~ Karen Baicker Sick
“I cannot go to school today," Said little Peggy Ann McKay. “I have the measles and the mumps, A gash, a rash and purple bumps. My mouth is wet, my throat is dry, I’m going blind in my right eye. My tonsils are as big as rocks, I’ve counted sixteen chicken pox And there’s one more--that’s seventeen, And don’t you think my face looks green? My leg is cut--my eyes are blue-- It might be instamatic flu. I cough and sneeze and gasp and choke, I’m sure that my left leg is broke-- My hip hurts when I move my chin, My belly button’s caving in, My back is wrenched, my ankle’s sprained, My ‘pendix pains each time it rains. My nose is cold, my toes are numb. I have a sliver in my thumb. My neck is stiff, my voice is weak, I hardly whisper when I speak. My tongue is filling up my mouth, I think my hair is falling out. My elbow’s bent, my spine ain’t straight, My temperature is one-o-eight. My brain is shrunk, I cannot hear, There is a hole inside my ear. I have a hangnail, and my heart is--what? What’s that? What’s that you say? You say today is. . .Saturday? G’bye, I’m going out to play!” ~ Shel Silverstein Mom’s Allergic
I’m not allowed to keep the snake ’Cause Mom’s allergic for goodness sake! It comes to me as some surprise That snakes cause sneezing And watery eyes. I’ve told her this snake Is perfectly harmless. It’s clawless, it’s toothless, It’s stingless, it’s armless! And to help make my point This snake is not charmless: It’s quiet, it’s pretty, It’s dry to the touch. It’s gentle, it’s friendly, It doesn’t eat much. Aw, what the heck, I know it’s no use. (This allergy thing Is some fancy excuse!) ~ Mary Sullivan |
Some Poems
Some poems Want to get written So badly-- They don't care If you are Sound asleep At 3 o'clock In the morning. No. They just Barge in, Shake you Awake, Drag you Out of bed, Plop you In a chair, Stick a pencil In your hand-- And make you Write. ~ Beverly McLoughland Foul Shot
With two 60s stuck on the scoreboard And two seconds hanging on the clock, The solemn boy in the center of eyes, Squeezed by silence, Seeks out the line with his feet, Soothes his hands along his uniform, Gently drums the ball against the floor, Then measures the waiting net, Raises the ball on his right hand, Balances it with his left, Calms it with fingertips, Breathes, Crouches, Waits, And then through a stretching of stillness, Nudges it upwards. The ball Slides up and out, Lands, Leans, Wobbles, Wavers, Hesitates, Plays it coy Until every face begs with unsounding screams-- And then And then And then, Right before ROAR-UP, Drives down and through. ~ Edwin A. Hoey |