Poetry Saturday—Smart

Listen to the podcast of this post by clicking on the player below, and you can also subscribe on AppleSpotify, or Audible.

My dad gave me a one dollar bill
‘Cause I’m his smartest son,
And I swapped it for two shiny quarters
‘Cause two is more than one!

And then I took the quarters
And traded them to Lou
For three dimes—I guess he don’t know
That three is more than two!

Just then, along came old blind Bates
And just ‘cause he can’t see
He gave me four nickels for my three dimes,
And four is more than three!

And I took the nickels to Hiram Coombs
Down at the seed-feed store,
And the fool gave me five pennies for them,
And five is more than four!

And then I went and showed my dad,
And he got red in the cheeks
And closed his eyes and shook his head—
Too proud of me to speak! —Shel Silverstein

►► Would you please prayerfully consider supporting this ministry? My Patreon supporters get behind-the-scenes access to exclusive materials. ◀︎◀︎

Poetry Saturday—Growing Down

Listen to the podcast of this post by clicking on the player below, and you can also subscribe on Apple or Spotify.

Mix a grunt and a grumble, a sneer and a frown,
And what do you have? Why old Mr. Brown,
The crabbiest man in our whole darn town.
We all called him Grow-Up Brown:
For years each girl and boy and pup
Heard “Grow up, grow up, oh grow up.”
He’d say, “Why don’t you be polite?
Why must you shout and fuss and fight?
Why can’t you keep dirt off your clothes?
Why can’t you remember to wipe your nose?
Why must you always make such noise?
Why don’t you go pick up your toys?
Why do you hate to wash your hands?
Why are your shoes all filled with sand?
Why must you shout when I’m lying down?
Why don’t you grow up?” grumped Grow-Up Brown.

One day we said to Grow-Up Brown,
“Hey, why don’t you try growing down?
Why don’t you crawl on your knees?
Why don’t you try climbing trees?
Why don’t you bang on a tin-can drum?
Why don’t you chew some bubble gum?
Why don’t you play kick-the-can?
Why don’t you not wash your hands?
Why don’t you join the baseball team?
Why don’t you jump and yell and scream?
Why don’t you try skipping stones?
Why don’t you eat ice cream cones?
Why don’t you cry when you feel sad?
Why don’t you cuddle with your dad?
Why don’t you have weenie roasts?
Why don’t you believe in ghosts?
Why don’t you have pillow fights?
Why don’t you sleep with your teddy at night?
Why don’t you swing from monkey bars?
Why don’t you wish on falling stars?
Why don’t you run in three-legged races?
Why don’t you make weirdie faces?
Why don’t you smile, Grow-Up Brown?
Why don’t you try growing down?”
Then Grow-Up Brown, he scrunched and frowned
And scratched his head and walked around,
And finally he said with a helpless sound,
“Maybe I will try growing down.”

So Grow-Up Brown began to sing
And started doing silly things:
He started making weirdie faces
And came in first in the three-legged races.
All day he swung from monkey bars,
All night he’d lie and count the stars.
He tooted horns, he banged on drums,
He spent twenty bucks on bubble gum,
He went to all the weenie roasts,
And once he thought he saw a ghost.
He got to be great at pillow fights
And went to sleep with his teddy at night.
He flew a kite, he kick a can,
He rubbed some dirt upon his hands.
He drew some pictures, threw some stones,
He ate forty-seven ice cream cones.
He got some sand between his toes,
Got a loose tooth and a bloody nose.
He got a dog, they rolled in the mud.
He imitated Elmer Fudd.
He climbed a roof (though no one asked),
He broke his wrist—he wore a cast.
He rolled down hills, he climbed up trees,
He scuffed his elbows, skinned his knees,
He tried to join the baseball team;
When they said no, he spit and screamed.
He cried when he was feeling sad
And went and cuddled with his dad.
He wore a hat that didn’t fit,
He learned just how far he could spit,
He learned to wrestle and get tickled,
Sucked his thumb, he belched and giggled.
He got his trousers torn and stained,
He ran out barefoot in the rain,
Shouting to all the folks in town,
“It’s much more fun, this growin’ down.” —Shel Silverstein

Would you please prayerfully consider supporting this ministry? 

Poetry Saturday—Yesees and Noees

Listen to the podcast of this post by clicking on the player below, and you can also subscribe on Apple or Spotify.

The Yesees said yes to anything
That anyone suggested.
The Noees said no to everything
Unless it was proven and tested.
So the Yesees all died of much too much
And the Noees all died of fright,
But somehow I think the Thinkforyourselfees
All came out all right. —Shel Silverstein

Would you please prayerfully consider supporting this ministry? 

Poetry Saturday—The Lovetobutcants

Listen to this post as a podcast by clicking here:

I have a disease called
The “lovetobutcants”—
I think it’s time I told it.
I’d love to help with that garbage can
But my fingers just can’t hold it.
Hand me a bag of groceries and
My wrists just turned to jelly.
Cuttin’ grass and hedges
Gives me flutters of the belly.
The smell of paint will make me faint,
Sweat makes my eyes start itchin’.
Dishwater on my little hands
Will start ‘em shaky-twitchin’.
Pickin’ clothes up off the floor
Would paralyze my shoulder.
I must not try to close the door,
At least not till I’m older.
So though I’d love to join the work—
Till this disease is done,
I’ll have to lie here in the shade
While you have all the fun. —Shel Silverstein

Poetry Saturday—Merry…

No one’s hangin’ stockin’s up,
No one’s bakin’ pie,
No one’s lookin’ up to see
A new star in the sky.
No one’s talkin’ brotherhood,
No one’s givin’ gifts,
And no one loves a Christmas tree
On March the twenty-fifth. —Shel Silverstein

Poetry Saturday—Lester

Lester was given a magic wish 
By the goblin who lived in the banyan tree, 
And with his wish he wished for two more wishes—
So now instead of just one wish, he cleverly had three.
And with each one of these 
He simply wished for three more wishes,
Which gave him three old wishes, plus nine new.
And with each of these twelve 
He slyly wished for three more wishes, 
Which added up to forty-six—or is it fifty-two? 
Well anyway, he used each wish 
To wish for more wishes ’til he had
Five billion, seven million, eighteen thousand thirty-four. 
And then he spread them on the ground 
And clapped his hands and danced around 
And skipped and sang, and then sat down 
And wished for more.
And more … and more … they multiplied 
While other people smiled and cried 
And loved and reached and touched and felt.
Lester sat amid his wealth 
Stacked mountain-high like stacks of gold, 
Sat and counted—and grew old.
And then one Thursday night they found him
Dead—with his wishes piled around him.
And they counted the lot and found that not 
A single one was missing.
All shiny and new—here, take a few 
And think of Lester as you do.
In a world of apples and kisses and shoes
He wasted his wishes on wishing. —Shel Silverstein

Poetry Saturday—Everything On It

Too good to share just one, here are five from a collection of Shel Silverstein poems printed after his death in the book Everything On It.

MasksMasks
She had blue skin,
And so did he.
He kept it hid
And so did she.
They searched for blue
Their whole life through,
Then passed right by—
And never knew.

Losing Pieces
Talked my head off
Worked my tail off
Cried my eyes out
Walked my feet off
Sang my heart out
So you see,
There’s really not much left of me.

I Didn’t
I didn’t do it
That’s a lie
I didn’t do it
No, not I
I didn’t do it
Hear me cry
I didn’t do it
Hope to die
I didn’t do it
I’m not that bad
But if I did
Would you be mad?

New Job
Just two hours workin’ in the candy store
And I don’t like candy anymore.

The Problem
Jim copied the answer from Nancy
Sue copied the answer from Jim
Tim copied the answer from Sue, and then
Anne copied the answer from him
And Fran copied Anne and Jan copied Fran
The answer kept passing along
And no one got caught, but the problem was—
Nancy had it wrong. —Shel Silverstein

 

%d bloggers like this: