Shel Silverstein
Sheldon Allan "Shel" Silverstein (September 25, 1930 – May 9/10, 1999),[1][2] was an Americanpoet, singer-songwriter, musician, composer, cartoonist, screenwriter and author of children's books. He styled himself as Uncle Shelby in his children's books. Translated into 20 languages, his books have sold over 20 million copies
"WIKIPEDIA"
"WIKIPEDIA"
Link to other poemsMessy Room
Whosever room this is should be ashamed! His underwear is hanging on the lamp. His raincoat is there in the overstuffed chair, And the chair is becoming quite mucky and damp. His workbook is wedged in the window, His sweater's been thrown on the floor. His scarf and one ski are beneath the TV, And his pants have been carelessly hung on the door. His books are all jammed in the closet, His vest has been left in the hall. A lizard named Ed is asleep in his bed, And his smelly old sock has been stuck to the wall. Whosever room this is should be ashamed! Donald or Robert or Willie or-- Huh? You say it's mine? Oh, dear, I knew it looked familiar! Where the Sidewalk Ends There is a place where the sidewalk ends And before the street begins, And there the grass grows soft and white, And there the sun burns crimson bright, And there the moon-bird rests from his flight To cool in the peppermint wind. Let us leave this place where the smoke blows black And the dark street winds and bends. Past the pits where the asphalt flowers grow We shall walk with a walk that is measured and slow, And watch where the chalk-white arrows go To the place where the sidewalk ends. Yes we'll walk with a walk that is measured and slow, And we'll go where the chalk-white arrows go, For the children, they mark, and the children, they know The place where the sidewalk ends. One Inch Tall If you were only one inch tall, you'd ride a worm to school. The teardrop of a crying ant would be your swimming pool. A crumb of cake would be a feast And last you seven days at least, A flea would be a frightening beast If you were one inch tall. If you were only one inch tall, you'd walk beneath the door, And it would take about a month to get down to the store. A bit of fluff would be your bed, You'd swing upon a spider's thread, And wear a thimble on your head If you were one inch tall. You'd surf across the kitchen sink upon a stick of gum. You couldn't hug your mama, you'd just have to hug her thumb. You'd run from people's feet in fright, To move a pen would take all night, (This poem took fourteen years to write-- 'Cause I'm just one inch tall). Weird-Bird Birds are flyin' south for winter. Here's the Weird-Bird headin' north, Wings a-flappin', beak a-chatterin', Cold head bobbin' back 'n' forth. He says, "It's not that I like ice Or freezin' winds and snowy ground. It's just sometimes it's kind of nice To be the only bird in town." |
A Boy Named Sue
Well, my daddy left home when I was three, and he didn't leave much to Ma and me, just this old guitar and a bottle of booze. Now I don't blame him because he run and hid, but the meanest thing that he ever did was before he left he went and named me Sue. Well, he must have thought it was quite a joke, and it got lots of laughs from a lot of folks, it seems I had to fight my whole life through. Some gal would giggle and I'd get red and some guy would laugh and I'd bust his head, I tell you, life ain't easy for a boy named Sue. Well, I grew up quick and I grew up mean. My fist got hard and my wits got keen. Roamed from town to town to hide my shame, but I made me a vow to the moon and the stars, I'd search the honky tonks and bars and kill that man that gave me that awful name. But it was Gatlinburg in mid July and I had just hit town and my throat was dry. I'd thought i'd stop and have myself a brew. At an old saloon in a street of mud and at a table dealing stud sat the dirty, mangy dog that named me Sue. Well, I knew that snake was my own sweet dad from a worn-out picture that my mother had and I knew the scar on his cheek and his evil eye. He was big and bent and gray and old and I looked at him and my blood ran cold, and I said, "My name is Sue. How do you do? Now you're gonna die." Yeah, that's what I told him. Well, I hit him right between the eyes and he went down but to my surprise he came up with a knife and cut off a piece of my ear. But I busted a chair right across his teeth. And we crashed through the wall and into the street kicking and a-gouging in the mud and the blood and the beer. I tell you I've fought tougher men but I really can't remember when. He kicked like a mule and bit like a crocodile. I heard him laughin' and then I heard him cussin', he went for his gun and I pulled mine first. He stood there looking at me and I saw him smile. And he said, "Son, this world is rough and if a man's gonna make it, he's gotta be tough and I knew I wouldn't be there to help you along. So I gave you that name and I said 'Goodbye'. I knew you'd have to get tough or die. And it's that name that helped to make you strong." Yeah, he said, "Now you have just fought one helluva fight, and I know you hate me and you've got the right to kill me now and I wouldn't blame you if you do. But you ought to thank me before I die for the gravel in your guts and the spit in your eye because I'm the nut that named you Sue." Yeah, what could I do? What could I do? I got all choked up and I threw down my gun, called him pa and he called me a son, and I came away with a different point of view and I think about him now and then. Every time I tried, every time I win and if I ever have a son I think I am gonna name him Bill or George - anything but Sue. |