Trying on Clothes
I tried on the farmer's hat,
Didn't fit…
A little too small - just a bit
Too floppy.
Couldn't get used to it,
Took it off.
I tried on the dancer's shoes,
A little too loose.
Not the kind you could use
for walkin'.
Didn't feel right in 'em,
Kicked 'em off.
I tried on the summer sun,
Felt good.
Nice and warm - knew it would.
Tried the grass beneath bare feet,
Felt neat.
Finally, finally felt well dressed,
Nature's clothes fit me best.
by Shel Silverstein
Wednesday, January 31, 2018
Poem: Tired
Tired
I’ve been working so hard you just wouldn’t believe,
And I’m tired!
There’s so little time and so much to achieve,…
And I’m tired!
I’ve been lying here holding the grass in its place,
Pressing a leaf with the side of my face,
Tasting the apples to see if they’re sweet,
Counting the toes on a centipede’s feet.
I’ve been memorizing the shape of that cloud,
Warning the robins to not chirp so loud,
Shooing the butterflies off the tomatoes,
Keeping an eye out for floods and tornadoes.
I’ve been supervising the work of the ants
And thinking of pruning the cantaloupe plants,
Calling the fish to swim into my nets,
And I’ve taken twelve thousand and forty-one breaths,
And I’m TIRED!
by Shel Silverstein
Poem: Channels
Channels
Channel 1’s no fun.
Channel 1’s no fun.
Channel 2’s just news.
Channel 3’s hard to see.
Channel4 is just a bore.
Channel 5 is all jive.
Channel 6 needs to be fixed.
Channel 7 and channel 8—
Just old movies, not so great.
Channel 9 is a waste of time.
Channel 10 is off, my child.
Wouldn’t you like to talk a while?
by Shel Silverstein
Folk Tale: In Heaven We Feed Each Other
In Heaven We Feed Each Other
There is an ancient Chinese parable about an old man who knew he would die soon. He wanted to know what Heaven and hell were like. He visited a wise man in his village to ask "Can you tell me what Heaven and hell are like?" The wise man led him down a strange path, deep into the countryside. Finally they came upon a large house with many rooms and went inside. Inside they found lots of people and many enormous tables with an incredible array of food. Then the old man noticed a strange thing, the people, all thin and hungry were holding chopsticks 12 feet long. They tried to feed themselves, but of course could not get the food to their mouths with such long chopsticks. The old man then said to the wise man "Now I know what hell looks like, will you please show me what Heaven looks like?" The wise man led him down the same path a little further until they came upon another large house similar to the first. They went inside and saw many people well fed and happy, they too had chopsticks 12 feet long. This puzzled the old man and he asked, "I see all of these people have 12 feet chopsticks too, yet they are well fed and happy, please explain this to me.The wise man replied, "in Heaven we feed each other"
*we role played this with keeping our arms straight and trying to feed ourselves, versus feeding the person opposite us. Works great for both habit 4 (with partners) and habit 6 with everyone finishing the food and feeling happy and full.
Poem: Crowded Tub
This is an example of people all trying to do something, instead of synergizing (Covey Habit 6)
Crowded Tub
Crowded Tub
There’s too many kids in this tub.
There’s too many elbows to scrub.
I just washed a behind
That I’m sure wasn’t mine,
There’s too many kids in this tub.
by Shel Silverstein
Poem: The Little Boy and the Old Man
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.
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.
by Shel Silverstein
*This may be good to read before going to a Senior Living Center...and help open kids' eyes to others' needs beyond their own.
Poem: Reflections
Reflection
Each time I see the upside/down man
Standing in the water,
I look at him and start to laugh,
Although I shouldn’t Autre.
For maybe in another world
Another time
Another town,
maybe he is right side up
And I am upside down.
by Shel Silverstein
*might be fun to do an art project on symmetry/reflections
Poem: Point of View
(might scare/disturb some little kids....)
Point of View
ThanksGiving dinner’s sad and thankless
Christmas dinner is dark and blue
When you stop and try to see it
From the turkeys point of view.
Sunday dinner is it sunny
Easter feasts are just bad luck
When you see it from the viewpoint
Of a chicken or a duck.
Oh how I once loved tuna salad
Pork and lobsters, lamb chops too
Till I stopped and looked at dinner
From the dinners point of view.
by Shel Silverstein
Poem: No Difference
No Difference
Small as a peanut,
Big as a giant,
We’re all the same size
When we turn off the light.
Rich as a sultan,
Poor as a mite,
We are all worth the same
When we turn off the light.
Red, black or orange,
Yellow or white,
We All look the same
When we turn off the light.
So maybe the way
To make everything right
Is for God to just reach out
And turn off the light!
by Shel Silverstein
Poem: 1 Inch Tall
1 Inch Tall
If you were only 1 inch tall, you ride a worm to school.
The teardrop of a crying aunt 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 1 inch tall.
If you were only 1 inch tall, you’d walk but Neath the door,
And it would take about a month to get down to the store.
A bit of fluff would be your bed,
You could swing upon a spiders thread,
And wear a thimble on your head
If you were 1 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 14 years to write – –
‘Cause I’m just 1 inch tall.)
by Shel Silverstein
Poem: The Toad and the Kangaroo
The Toad and the Kangaroo
Said the Toad to the Kangaroo,
"I can hop and so can you,
So if we marry we'll have a child
Who can jump a mountain or hop a mile
And we can call it a Toadaroo,"
Said the hopeful Toad to the Kangaroo.
Said the Kangaroo, "My dear,
What a perfectly lovely idea.
I would most gladly marry you,
But as for having a Toadaroo,
I'd rather we call it a Kangaroad,"
Said the Kangaroo to the frowning Toad.
So they argued but couldn't agree
On Rangatoo or Kangaree
And finally the Toad said, "I don't give a dang
If it's Rootakoad or Toadakang--
I really don't feel like marrying you!"
"Fine with me," said the Kangaroo.
And the Toad had no more to say,
And the Kangaroo just hopped away.
And they never married or had a child
That could jump a mountain or hop a mile.
What a loss--what a shame--
Just 'cause they couldn't agree on a name.
by Shel Silverstein
Poem: Prayer of the Selfish Child
Poem: Us
(the need to think win-win...because you're stuck together)
Us
Me and Him
Him and me,
We are always together
As you can see.
I wish he’d leave
So I’d be free
I’m getting a little bit
Tired of he,
And he may be a bit
Bored with me.
On movies and ladies
We cannot agree.
I love to dance
And he likes to ski.
He loves the mountains
And I like the sea.
I love hot chocolate
And he wants his Tea.
I want to sleep
And he has to Pee.
He’s meaner and duller
And fatter than me.
But I guess there’s worse things
We could be – –
Instead of two we could be three,
Me and him
Him and me.
by Shel Silverstein
We did profile symmetry art after reading this and talked about how you can see faces from one perspective and vases from the other., and how when we think win-win, we need to try to let go of just what we want/see.
Poem: Hug O'War
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.
by Shel Silverstein
*We played a hand wrestling game after reading this, where you stand palms facing eachother and try to push eachother away so they move their feet. Whomever moves their feet loses. Then we said we would rather payed at hug-o-war than tug-o-war and we hugged afterwards instead and said there were no losers! :)
*We played a hand wrestling game after reading this, where you stand palms facing eachother and try to push eachother away so they move their feet. Whomever moves their feet loses. Then we said we would rather payed at hug-o-war than tug-o-war and we hugged afterwards instead and said there were no losers! :)
Poem: Anchored
Anchored
Our anchors too big for our ship,
So we are sitting here trying to think.
If we leave it behind we’ll be lost.
If we haul it on board, we will sink.
If we sit and keep talking about it,
It will soon be too late for our trip.
It sure can be rough on a sailor
When the anchors too big for the ship.
by Shel Silverstein
Poem: Fancy Dive
Fancy Dive
The fanciest dive that ever was dove
Was done by Melissa of coconut grove.
She bounced on the board and flew into the air
With a twist of her head and a twirl of her hair.
She did 34 jackknives, backflips and spun,
Quadruple gainered, and reached for the sun,
And then somersaulted nine times and a quarter – –
Looked down and saw that the pool no water.
by Shel Silverstein
Poem: Something Missing
Something Missing
I remember I put on my socks,
I remember I put on my shoes.
I remember I put on my Tie
That was painted
In beautiful purples and blues.
I remember I put on my coat,
To look perfectly grand at the dance,
Yet I feel there is something
I may have forgot – –
What is it? What is it?…
by Shel Silverstein
Poem: The Flying Festoon
The Flying Festoon
Oh I’m going to ride on the flying festoon—
I’ll jump on his back and I’ll whistle a tune,
And will fly to the outermost tip of the moon,
The flying festoon and I.
I’m taking a sandwich, a ball and a prone,
And we are leaving this evening precisely at noon,
For I’m going to fly with the flying festoon…
Just as soon as he learns how to fly.
by Shel Silverstein
Poem: Sarah Cynthia Sylvia Stout
Sarah Cynthia Sylvia Stout Would not take the garbage out!
Sarah Cynthia Sylvia Stout
Would not take the garbage out!
She'd scour the pots and scrape the pans,
Candy the yams and spice the hams,
And though her daddy would scream and shout,
She simply would not take the garbage out.
And so it piled up to the ceilings:
Coffee grounds, potato peelings,
Brown bananas, rotten peas,
Chunks of sour cottage cheese.
It filled the can, it covered the floor,
It cracked the window and blocked the door
With bacon rinds and chicken bones,
Drippy ends of ice cream cones,
Prune pits, peach pits, orange peel,
Gloppy glumps of cold oatmeal,
Pizza crusts and withered greens,
Soggy beans and tangerines,
Crusts of black burned buttered toast,
Gristly bits of beefy roasts. . .
The garbage rolled on down the hall,
It raised the roof, it broke the wall. . .
Greasy napkins, cookie crumbs,
Globs of gooey bubble gum,
Cellophane from green baloney,
Rubbery blubbery macaroni,
Peanut butter, caked and dry,
Curdled milk and crusts of pie,
Moldy melons, dried-up mustard,
Eggshells mixed with lemon custard,
Cold french fried and rancid meat,
Yellow lumps of Cream of Wheat.
At last the garbage reached so high
That it finally touched the sky.
And all the neighbors moved away,
And none of her friends would come to play.
And finally Sarah Cynthia Stout said,
"OK, I'll take the garbage out!"
But then, of course, it was too late. . .
The garbage reached across the state,
From New York to the Golden Gate.
And there, in the garbage she did hate,
Poor Sarah met an awful fate,
That I cannot now relate
Because the hour is much too late.
But children, remember Sarah Stout
And always take the garbage out!
by Shel Silverstein
Sarah Cynthia Sylvia Stout
Would not take the garbage out!
She'd scour the pots and scrape the pans,
Candy the yams and spice the hams,
And though her daddy would scream and shout,
She simply would not take the garbage out.
And so it piled up to the ceilings:
Coffee grounds, potato peelings,
Brown bananas, rotten peas,
Chunks of sour cottage cheese.
It filled the can, it covered the floor,
It cracked the window and blocked the door
With bacon rinds and chicken bones,
Drippy ends of ice cream cones,
Prune pits, peach pits, orange peel,
Gloppy glumps of cold oatmeal,
Pizza crusts and withered greens,
Soggy beans and tangerines,
Crusts of black burned buttered toast,
Gristly bits of beefy roasts. . .
The garbage rolled on down the hall,
It raised the roof, it broke the wall. . .
Greasy napkins, cookie crumbs,
Globs of gooey bubble gum,
Cellophane from green baloney,
Rubbery blubbery macaroni,
Peanut butter, caked and dry,
Curdled milk and crusts of pie,
Moldy melons, dried-up mustard,
Eggshells mixed with lemon custard,
Cold french fried and rancid meat,
Yellow lumps of Cream of Wheat.
At last the garbage reached so high
That it finally touched the sky.
And all the neighbors moved away,
And none of her friends would come to play.
And finally Sarah Cynthia Stout said,
"OK, I'll take the garbage out!"
But then, of course, it was too late. . .
The garbage reached across the state,
From New York to the Golden Gate.
And there, in the garbage she did hate,
Poor Sarah met an awful fate,
That I cannot now relate
Because the hour is much too late.
But children, remember Sarah Stout
And always take the garbage out!
by Shel Silverstein
Poem: The Crocodiles Toothache
The Crocodile's Toothache
Oh the Crocodile
Went to the dentist
And sat down in the chair,
And the dentist said, 'Now tell me, sir,
Why does it hurt and where?'
And the Crocodile said, 'I'll tell you the truth.
I have a terrible ache in my tooth.'
And he opened his jaws so wide, so wide,
That the dentist he climbed right inside,
And the dentist laughed, 'Oh, isn't this fun?'
As he pulled the teeth out, one by one.
And the Crocodile cried, 'You're hurting me so!
Please put down your pliers and let me go.'
But the dentist just laughed with a Ho Ho Ho,
And he said, 'I still have twelve to go --
Oops, that's the wrong one, I confess.
But what's one crocodile's tooth, more or less?'
Then suddenly the jaws went snap,
And the dentist was gone right off the map.
And where he went one could only guess...
To North or South or East or West...
He left no forwarding address.
But what's one dentist more or less?
by Shel Silverstein
Oh the Crocodile
Went to the dentist
And sat down in the chair,
And the dentist said, 'Now tell me, sir,
Why does it hurt and where?'
And the Crocodile said, 'I'll tell you the truth.
I have a terrible ache in my tooth.'
And he opened his jaws so wide, so wide,
That the dentist he climbed right inside,
And the dentist laughed, 'Oh, isn't this fun?'
As he pulled the teeth out, one by one.
And the Crocodile cried, 'You're hurting me so!
Please put down your pliers and let me go.'
But the dentist just laughed with a Ho Ho Ho,
And he said, 'I still have twelve to go --
Oops, that's the wrong one, I confess.
But what's one crocodile's tooth, more or less?'
Then suddenly the jaws went snap,
And the dentist was gone right off the map.
And where he went one could only guess...
To North or South or East or West...
He left no forwarding address.
But what's one dentist more or less?
by Shel Silverstein
Poem: Invention
Invention
I’ve done it, I’ve done it!
I’ve done it, I’ve done it!
Guess what I’ve done!
Invented a light that plugs into the sun.
The sun is bright enough,
The Bob is strong enough,
But, oh, there’s only one thing wrong…
The court ain’t long enough.
by Shel Silverstein
Poem: Homemade Boat
Homemade Boat
This boat that we just built is just fine – –
And don’t try to tell us it’s not.
The science and the back or divine – –
It’s the bottom I guess we forgot.
by Shel Silverstein
Poem: Pancake
Pancake?
Who wants a pancake,
Sweet and piping hot?
Good little Grace looks up and says,
I’ll take the One on top.”
Who else wants a pancake,
Fresh off the griddle?
Terrible Teresa smiles and says,
“I’ll take the one in the middle.
by Shel silverstein
Poem: Standing is Stupid
Standing is Stupid
Standing is stupid,
Crawling’s a curse,
Skipping is silly,
Walking is worse.
Hopping is hopeless,
Jumping a chore,
Sitting is senseless,
Leaning’s a bore.
Running’s ridiculous.
Jogging’s insane–
Guess I’ll go upstairs and
Lie down again.
by Shel Silverstein
Standing is stupid,
Crawling’s a curse,
Skipping is silly,
Walking is worse.
Hopping is hopeless,
Jumping a chore,
Sitting is senseless,
Leaning’s a bore.
Running’s ridiculous.
Jogging’s insane–
Guess I’ll go upstairs and
Lie down again.
by Shel Silverstein
Poem: Magic Carpet
Magic Carpet
You have a magic carpet
That can whiz you through the air,
To Spain or Maine or Africa,
If you will tell it where.
So will you let it take you
Where you’ve never been before,
Or will you buy some drapes to match
And use it on your floor?
by Shel Silverstein
You have a magic carpet
That can whiz you through the air,
To Spain or Maine or Africa,
If you will tell it where.
So will you let it take you
Where you’ve never been before,
Or will you buy some drapes to match
And use it on your floor?
by Shel Silverstein
Poem: Put Something In
(good poem for both Covey Habits 1 and 7)
Put Something In
Draw a crazy picture,
Write a nutty poem,
Sing a mumble-Gumble song,
Whistle through your comb.
Do a loony-Goony dance
‘Cross the kitchen floor,
Put something silly in the world
That ain’t been there before.
by Shel Silverstein
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