Poems by Shel Silverstein Bear In There
There's a Polar Bear In our Frigidaire-He likes it 'cause it's cold in there. With his seat in the meat And his face in the fish And his big hairy paws In the buttery dish, He's nibbling the noodles, He's munching the rice, He's slurping the soda, He's licking the ice. And he lets out a roar If you open the door. And it gives me a scare To know he's in there-That Polary Bear In our Fridgitydaire.

Hug O'War
I will not play at tug o' war. I'd rather play at hug o' war, Where everyone hugs Instead of tugs, Where everyone giggles And rolls on the rug, Where everyone kisses, And everyone grins, And everyone cuddles, And everyone wins.

The Boa Constrictor Song
I'm being swallered by a Boa Constrictor a Boa Constrictor, a Boa Constrictor I'm being swallered by a Boa Constrictor and I don't - like snakes - one bit! Oh no, he swallered my toe. Oh gee, he swallered my knee. Oh fiddle, he swallered my middle. Oh what a pest, he swallered my chest. Oh heck, he swallered my neck. Oh, dread, he swallered my – (BURP)

The Loser
Mama said I'd lose my head if it wasn't fastened on. Today I guess it wasn't 'cause while playing with my cousin it fell off and rolled away and now it's gone. And I can't look for it 'cause my eyes are in it, and I can't call to it 'cause my mouth is on it (couldn't hear me anyway 'cause my ears are on it), can't even think about it 'cause my brain is in it. So I guess I'll sit down on this rock and rest for just a minute...

The Meehoo with an Exactlywatt
Knock knock! Who's there? Me! Me who? That's right! What's right? Meehoo! That's what I want to know! What's what you want to know? Me, who? Yes, exactly! Exactly what? Yes, I have an Exactlywatt on a chain! Exactly what on a chain? Yes! Yes what? No, Exactlywatt! That's what I want to know! I told you - Exactlywatt! Exactly what? Yes! Yes what? Yes, it's with me! What's with you? Exactlywatt - that's what's with me. Me who? Yes! Go away! Knock knock...

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.

The Little Boy and the Old Man
Said the little boy, "Sometimes I drop my spoon." Said the old man, "I do that too." The little boy whispered, "I wet my pants." "I do that too," laughed the little old man. Said the little boy, "I often cry." The old man nodded, "So do I." "But worst of all," said the boy, "it seems Grown-ups don't pay attention to me." And he felt the warmth of a wrinkled old hand. "I know what you mean," said the little old man.

Messy 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!

Forgotten Language
Once I spoke the language of the flowers, Once I understood each word the caterpillar said, Once I smiled in secret at the gossip of the starlings, And shared a conversation with the housefly in my bed. Once I heard and answered all the questions of the crickets, And joined the crying of each falling dying flake of snow, Once I spoke the language of the flowers. . . . How did it go? How did it go?

Danny O'Dare
Danny O'Dare, the dancin' bear, Ran away from the County Fair, Ran right up to my back stair And thought he'd do some dancin' there. He started jumpin' and skippin' and kickin', He did a dance called the Funky Chicken, He did the Polka, he did the Twist, He bent himself into a pretzel like this. He did the Dog and the Jitterbug, He did the Jerk and the Bunny Hug. He did the Waltz and the Boogaloo, He did the Hokey-Pokey too. He did the Bop and the Mashed Potata, He did the Split and the See Ya Later. And now he's down upon one knee, Bowin' oh so charmingly, And winkin' and smilin'--it's easy to see Danny O'Dare wants to dance with me.

It's Dark in Here
I am writing these poems From inside a lion, And it's rather dark in here. So please excuse the handwriting Which may not be too clear. But this afternoon by the lion's cage I'm afraid I got too near. And I'm writing these lines From inside a lion, And it's rather dark in here.

One Inch Tall f 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.
I

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."

The Toucan

Tell me who can Catch a toucan? Lou can. Just how few can Ride the toucan? Two can. What kind of goo can Stick you to the toucan? Glue can. Who can write some More about the toucan? You can!

Rain
I opened my eyes And looked up at the rain, And it dripped in my head And flowed into my brain, And all that I hear as I lie in my bed Is the slishity-slosh of the rain in my head. I step very softly, I walk very slow, I can't do a handstand-I might overflow, So pardon the wild crazy thing I just said-I'm just not the same since there's rain in my head.

Poems by Jack Prelutsky

As Soon as Fred Gets Out of Bed
As soon as Fred gets out of bed, his underwear goes on his head. His mother laughs, "Don't put it there, a head's no place for underwear!" But near his ears, above his brains, is where Fred's underwear remains. At night when Fred goes back to bed, he deftly plucks it off his head. His mother switches off the light and softly croons, "Good night! Good night!" And then, for reasons no one knows, Fred's underwear goes on his toes.

Dora Diller
"My stomach's full of butterflies!" cried Dora Diller. Her mother sighed. "That's no surprise, you ate a caterpillar!"

Be Glad Your Nose is on Your Face

Be glad your nose is on your face, not pasted on some other place, for if it were where it is not, you might dislike your nose a lot. Imagine if your precious nose were sandwiched in between your toes, that clearly would not be a treat, for you'd be forced to smell your feet. Your nose would be a source of dread were it attached atop your head, it soon would drive you to despair, forever tickled by your hair. Within your ear, your nose would be an absolute catastrophe, for when you were obliged to sneeze, your brain would rattle from the breeze. Your nose, instead, through thick and thin, remains between your eyes and chin, not pasted on some other place-be glad your nose is on your face!

Last Night I Dreamed of Chickens

Last night I dreamed of chickens, there were chickens everywhere, they were standing on my stomach, they were nesting in my hair, they were pecking at my pillow, they were hopping on my head, they were ruffling up their feathers as they raced about my bed. They were on the chairs and tables, they were on the chandeliers, they were roosting in the corners, they were clucking in my ears, there were chickens, chickens, chickens for as far as I could see... when I woke today, I noticed there were eggs on top of me.

I’m Fond of Frogs
I’m fond of frogs, and every day I treat them with affection. I join them at the FROG CAFE— We love the Croaking Section.

Super Samson Simpson

I am Super Samson Simpson, I'm superlatively strong, I like to carry elephants, I do it all day long, I pick up half a dozen and hoist them in the air, it's really somewhat simple, for I have strength to spare. My muscles are enormous, they bulge from top to toe, and when I carry elephants, they ripple to and fro, but I am not the strongest in the Simpson family, for when I carry elephants, my grandma carries me.

My Frog Is a Frog
My frog is a frog that is hopelessly hoarse, my frog is a frog with a reason, of course, my frog is a frog that cannot croak a note, my frog is a frog with a frog in its throat.

My First Best Friend

My first best friend is Awful Ann— she socked me in the eye. My second best is Sneaky Sam— he tried to swipe my pie. My third best friend is Max the Rat— he trampled on my toes. My fourth best friend is Nasty Nell— She almost broke my nose. My fifth best friend is Ted the Toad— he kicked me in the knee. My sixth best friend is Grumpy Gail— she's always mean to me. My seventh best is Monster Moe— he often plays too rough. That's all the friends I've got right now— I think I've got enough.

Noisy Noisy
It's noisy, noisy overhead, the birds are winging south, and every bird is opening a noisy, noisy mouth. They fill the air with loud complaint, they honk and quack and squawk— they do not feel like flying, but it's much too far to walk.

Suzanna Socked Me Sunday

Suzanna socked me Sunday, she socked me Monday, too, she also socked me Tuesday, I was turning black and blue. She socked me double Wednesday, and Thursday even more, but when she socked me Friday, she began to get me sore. “Enough’s enough,” I yelled at her, “I hate it when you hit me!” “Well, then I won’t” Suzanna said— that Saturday, she bit me.

As Soon as Fred Gets Out of Bed
As soon as Fred gets out of bed, his underwear goes on his head. His mother laughs, "Don't put it there, a head's no place for underwear!" But near his ears, above his brains, is where Fred's underwear remains. At night when Fred goes back to bed, he deftly plucks it off his head. His mother switches off the light and softly croons, "Good night! Good night!" And then, for reasons no one knows, Fred's underwear goes on his toes.

The Creature in the Classroom
It appeared iinside our classroom

at a quater after ten, it gobbled up the blackboard, three erasers and a pen. It gobbled teacher's apple and it bopped her with the core. “How dare you!” she responded. “You must leave us . . . there's the door.” The Creature didn't listen but described an arabesque as it gobbled all her pencils, seven notebooks and her desk. Teacher stated very calmly, “Sir! You simply cannot stay, I'll report you to the principal unless you go away!” But the thing continued eating, it ate paper, swallowed ink, as it gobbled up our homework I believe I saw it wink. Teacher finally lost her temper. “OUT!” she shouted at the creature. The creature hopped beside her and GLOPP . . . it gobbled teacher.

We're Fearless Flying Hotdogs

We're fearless flying hotdogs, the famous "Unflappable Five," we're mustered in formation to climb, to dip, to dive, we spread our wings with relish, then reach for altitude, we're aerobic weiners, the fastest flying food. We're fearless flying hotdogs, we race with flair and style, then catch up with each other and soar in single file, you never saw such daring, such power and control, as when we swoop and spiral, then slide into a roll. The throngs applaud our antics, they cheer us long and loud, there's never a chilly reception, there's never a sour crowd, and if we may speak frankly, we are a thrilling sight, we're fearless flying hotdogs, the delicate essence of flight.