Help Wanted

By Timothy Tocher

Santa needs new reindeer.

The first bunch has grown old.
Dasher has arthritis;
Comet hates the cold.
Prancer's sick of staring
at Dancer's big behind.
Cupid married Blitzen
and Donner lost his mind.
Dancer's mad at Vixen
for stepping on his toes.
Vixen's being thrown out—
she laughed at Rudolph's nose.
If you are a reindeer
we hope you will apply.
There is just one tricky part:
You must know how to fly.
 Songs for the People
By Frances Ellen Watkins Harper

Let me make the songs for the people,

Songs for the old and young;
Songs to stir like a battle-cry
Wherever they are sung.

Not for the clashing of sabres,

For carnage nor for strife;
But songs to thrill the hearts of men
With more abundant life.

Let me make the songs for the weary,

Amid life’s fever and fret,
Till hearts shall relax their tension,
And careworn brows forget.

Let me sing for little children,

Before their footsteps stray,
Sweet anthems of love and duty,
To float o’er life’s highway.

I would sing for the poor and aged,

When shadows dim their sight;
Of the bright and restful mansions,
Where there shall be no night.

Our world, so worn and weary,

Needs music, pure and strong,
To hush the jangle and discords
Of sorrow, pain, and wrong.

Music to soothe all its sorrow,

Till war and crime shall cease;
And the hearts of men grown tender
Girdle the world with peace.
 A Bird, came down the Walk
By Emily Dickinson

A Bird, came down the Walk -

He did not know I saw -
He bit an Angle Worm in halves
And ate the fellow, raw,

And then, he drank a Dew

From a convenient Grass -
And then hopped sidewise to the Wall
To let a Beetle pass -

He glanced with rapid eyes,

That hurried all abroad -
They looked like frightened Beads, I thought,
He stirred his Velvet Head. -

Like one in danger, Cautious,

I offered him a Crumb,
And he unrolled his feathers,
And rowed him softer Home -

Than Oars divide the Ocean,

Too silver for a seam,
Or Butterflies, off Banks of Noon,
Leap, plashless as they swim.
 Baby Ate a Microchip
By Neal Levin

Baby ate a microchip,

Then grabbed a bottle, took a sip.
He swallowed it and made a beep,
And now he’s thinking pretty deep.

He’s downloading his ABCs

And calculating 1-2-3s.
He’s memorizing useless facts
While doing Daddy’s income tax.

He’s processing, and now he thrives

On feeding his internal drives.
He’s throwing fits, and now he fights
With ruthless bits and toothless bytes.

He must be feeling very smug.

But hold on, Baby caught a bug.
Attempting to reboot in haste,
He accidentally got erased!
 Caged Bird
By Maya Angelou

A free bird leaps

on the back of the wind
and floats downstream
till the current ends
and dips his wing
in the orange sun rays
and dares to claim the sky.

But a bird that stalks

down his narrow cage
can seldom see through
his bars of rage
his wings are clipped and
his feet are tied
so he opens his throat to sing.

The caged bird sings

with a fearful trill
of things unknown
but longed for still
and his tune is heard
on the distant hill
for the caged bird
sings of freedom.

The free bird thinks of another breeze

and the trade winds soft through the sighing trees
and the fat worms waiting on a dawn bright lawn
and he names the sky his own

But a caged bird stands on the grave of dreams

his shadow shouts on a nightmare scream
his wings are clipped and his feet are tied
so he opens his throat to sing.

The caged bird sings

with a fearful trill
of things unknown
but longed for still
and his tune is heard
on the distant hill
for the caged bird
sings of freedom.

The Dentist and the Crocodile

By Roald Dahl

The crocodile, with cunning smile, sat in the dentist’s chair.

He said, “Right here and everywhere my teeth require repair.”
The dentist’s face was turning white. He quivered, quaked and shook.
He muttered, “I suppose I’m going to have to take a look.”
“I want you”, Crocodile declared, “to do the back ones first.
The molars at the very back are easily the worst.”
He opened wide his massive jaws. It was a fearsome sight—
At least three hundred pointed teeth, all sharp and shining white.
The dentist kept himself well clear. He stood two yards away.
He chose the longest probe he had to search out the decay.
“I said to do the back ones first!” the Crocodile called out.
“You’re much too far away, dear sir, to see what you’re about.
To do the back ones properly you’ve got to put your head
Deep down inside my great big mouth,” the grinning Crocky said.
The poor old dentist wrung his hands and, weeping in despair,
He cried, “No no! I see them all extremely well from here!”
Just then, in burst a lady, in her hands a golden chain.
She cried, “Oh Croc, you naughty boy, you’re playing tricks again!”
“Watch out!” the dentist shrieked and started climbing up the wall.
“He’s after me! He’s after you! He’s going to eat us all!”
“Don’t be a twit,” the lady said, and flashed a gorgeous smile.
“He’s harmless. He’s my little pet, my lovely crocodile.”
 Zoophabet: Ants to Zorillas
By Avis Harley

Ants use antennae to seek out their tracks,

Beavers gnaw trees for their lodge,
Camels store food in the humps on their backs,
Dragonflies dazzle and dodge,
Elephant trunks furnish watery flings,
Flamingoes eat shrimp to keep pink;
Grasshoppers' ears appear under their wings,
Hummingbirds hover to drink,
Inchworms advance with a rear-ended loop,
Jellyfish sometimes can sting,
Kestrels catch lunch with a lightning-like swoop,
Larks love to warble and sing,
Moles tunnel intricate malls underground,
Newts thrive in ponds filled with weed,
Owls like to swivel their heads right around,
People can learn how to read,
Quetzals are gorgeous in feathery dress,
Rats have acquired a bad label,
Seahorse appears like a figure in chess,
Tortoise found fame in a fable,
Umber-birds thrive in the African wild,
Vipers can poison their prey,
Worms turn the soil when the climate is mild,
Xylophage chews wood all day,
Yaks grow in horns that are gracefully curled,
Zorillas are striped black and white;
each zooabet creature is part of this world:
unique, with its own copyright!
 He laughed with a laugh
By JonArno Lawson

He laughed with a laugh

that he wished was his laugh,
but everyone knew it wasn’t.

When he laughed he would ask,

"Does that sound like my laugh?"
and everyone said, "It doesn’t."

The laugh that he laughed

that wasn’t his laugh went
"Hardy har har, guffaw!"

The laugh that he laughed

that he wished wasn’t his went,
"Hruck, sniffle-hick, hee-haw!"
 Taking One for the Team
By Sara Holbrook

We practiced together,
sweat and stained.
We pummeled each other
and laughed off pain.
Teams may disagree,
may tease,
may blame.
Teams may bicker and whine,
but get down for the game.

You had my back.

We fought the fight.
And though our score
was less last night,
we're walking tall.
Our team came through
and stuck together like Crazy Glue.
I'm proud to say
I lost with you.
 Drum Dream Girl
By Margarita Engle

On an island of music
in a city of drumbeats
the drum dream girl
dreamed

of pounding tall conga drums

tapping small bongó drums
and boom boom booming
with long, loud sticks
on bit, round, silvery
moon-bright timbales.

But everyone
on the island of music
in the city of drumbeats
believed that only boys
should play drums

so the drum dream girl

had to keep dreaming
quiet
secret
drumbeat
dreams.

At outdoor cafés that looked like gardens

she heard drums played by men
but when she closed her eyes
she could also hear
her own imaginary
music.

When she walked under

wind-wavy palm trees
in a flower-bright park
she heard the whir of parrot wings
the clack of woodpecker beaks
the dancing tap
of her own footsteps
and the comforting pat
of her own
heartbeat.

At carnivals, she listened

to the rattling beat
of towering
dancers
on stilts

and the dragon clang

of costumed drummers
wearing huge masks.

At home, her fingertips

rolled out their own
dreamy drum rhythm
on tables and chairs…

and even though everyone

kept reminding her that girls
on the island of music
have never played drums

the brave drum dream girl

dared to play
tall conga drums
small bongó drums
and big, round, silvery
moon-bright timbales.

Her hands seemed to fly

as they rippled
rapped
and pounded
all the rhythms
of her drum dreams.

Her big sisters were so excited

that they invited her to join
their new all-girl dance band
but their father said only boys
should play drums.

So the drum dream girl

had to keep dreaming
and drumming
alone

until finally
her father offered
to find a music teacher
who could decide if her drums
deserved
to be heard.

The drum dream girl’s

teacher was amazed.
The girl knew so much
but he taught her more
and more
and more

and she practiced

and she practiced
and she practiced

until the teacher agreed

that she was ready
to play her small bongó drums
outdoors at a starlit café
that looked like a garden

where everyone who heard

her dream-bright music
sang
and danced
and decided
that girls should always
be allowed to play
drums
and both girls and boys
should feel free
to dream.

Ostrich and Lark

 By Marilyn Nelson

Ostrich and Lark started each morning together

at first light,
day in and day out.

And they parted

at nightfall.

Every day they nibbled an ongoing meal:

a few seeds here,
a few seeds there;
for Ostrich, the occasional lizard.

All day the sun glared out of cloudless blue.

Every day, all day,

over the cidada’s drone,
a drizzle of buzzings fell,
and a downpour of birdsong.

Hornbill, Bee-eater, Hoopoe, Diederik,

Mousebird, Whydah, Canary:
from gray-light-come to last-light-gone,
the fancy-dressed suitors of the veld
warbled their rain-shower jazz.

But Ostrich was silent.

Lark sang the first song of the day,

perched tall, slender, the tawny brown
on a termite castle
or a low branch of a camel thorn tree.

But Ostrich was silent.

When Lark sang,

he flickered his wings,
and his white throat feathers trembled.
All day Lark sang, standing still or flitting,
his open wings vermillion-spangled.
But Ostrich was silent.

At dusk Lark sought his hidden nest on the ground.

Ostrich sat down

under an acacia tree
and tucked his head
under one of his black-and-white wings.

Sometimes he dreamed of flying.

Sometimes he dreamed of singing the sky full of stars.

Sometimes he dreamed
of the green season, drinking
caught water, and drinking, and drinking.

At first light, Lark called,

and together they started their day.

One evening,
as the great red sun
sank toward the tree-spiked horizon
and the birds swooped to their nests;
as the plant eaters gathered at full alert
and the meat eaters woke to prowl;
as the gates of night opened to the dark,

Ostrich fluttered his billowy wings.

He stretched his graceful neck,
closed his eyes, and
TWOO-WOO-WOOOT

Ostrich found his voice,

a voice part lion’s roar,
part foghorn,
part old man trumpeting into his handkerchief.

Ostrich was booming!

Which is what ostriches do.

The veld fell silent.

And Ostrich boomed like thunderheads on the horizon.
Ostrich boomed like the rainstorm that ends
the dusty months of thirst.

Ostrich boomed like the promise

of jubilant green, like the promise of birth.

Ostrich boomed Lark right off his perch!

Lark flew up to an
Ostrich-high branch
and looked at his friend
with a big WOW in his eyes.

Ostrich had found his voice at last,

his own beauty,
his big, terrific self.

To Catch a Fish
 By Eloise Greenfield

It takes more than a wish

to catch a fish
you take the hook
you add the bait
you concentrate
and then you wait
you wait you wait
but not a bite
the fish don’t have
an appetite
so tell them what
good bait you’ve got
and how your bait
can hit the spot
this works a whole
lot better than
a wish
if you really
want to catch
a fish