Bleezer’s Ice Cream

I am Ebenezer Bleezer, COTTON CANDY CARROT

I run BLEEZER’S ICE CREAM STORE, CUSTARD
there are flavors in my freezer CAULIFLOWER COLA MUSTARD
you have never seen before, ONION DUMPLING DOUBLE DIP
twenty-eight divine creations TURNIP TRUFFLE TRIPLE FLIP
too delicious to resist, GARLIC GUMBO GRAVY GUAVA
why not do yourself a favor, LENTIL LEMON LIVER LAVA
try the flavors on my list: ORANGE OLIVE BAGEL BEET
WATERMELON WAFFLE WHEAT
COCOA MOCHA MACARONI
TAPIOCA SMOKED BALONEY I am Ebenezer Bleezer,
CHECKERBERRY CHEDDAR CHEW I run BLEEZER’S ICE CREAM STORE,
CHICKEN CHERRY HONEYDEW taste a flavor from my freezer,
TUTTI-FRUTTI STEWED TOMATO you will surely ask for more.
TUNA TACO BAKED POTATO
LOBSTER LITCHI LIMA BEAN Jack Prelutsky
MOZZARELLA MANGOSTEEN
ALMOND HAM MERINGUE SALAMI
YAM ANCHOVY PRUNE PASTRAMI
SASSAFRAS SOUVLAKI HASH
SUKIYAKI SUCCOTASH
BUTTER BRICKLE PEPPER PICKLE
POMEGRANATE PUMPERNICKEL
PEACH PIMENTO PIZZA PLUM
PEANUT PUMPKIN BUBBLEGUM
BROCCOLI BANANA BLUSTER
CHOCOLATE CHOP SUEY CLUSTER
AVOCADO BRUSSELS SPROUT
PERIWINKLE SAUERKRAUT
 Fifteen, Maybe Sixteen Things to Worry About

My pants could maybe fall down when I dive off the diving board.
My nose could maybe keep growing and never quit.
Miss Brearly could ask me to spell words like stomach and special.
(Stumick and speshul?)
I could play tag all day and always be "it."
Jay Spievack, who's fourteen feet tall, could want to fight me.
My mom and my dad—like Ted's—could want a divorce.
Miss Brearly could ask me a question about Afghanistan.
(Who's Afghanistan?)
Somebody maybe could make me ride a horse.
My mother could maybe decide that I needed more liver.
My dad could decide that I needed less TV.
Miss Brearly could say that I have to write script and stop printing.
(I'm better at printing.)
Chris could decide to stop being friends with me.

The world could maybe come to an end on next Tuesday.

The ceiling could maybe come crashing on my head.
I maybe could run out of things for me to worry about.
And then I'd have to do my homework instead.

Judith Viorst
 Sick

"I cannot go to school today," My nose is cold, my toes are numb.

Said little Peggy Ann McKay. I have a sliver in my thumb.
"I have the measles and the mumps, My neck is stiff, my voice is weak,
A gash, a rash and purple bumps. I hardly whisper when I speak.
My mouth is wet, my throat is dry, My tongue is filling up my mouth,
I'm going blind in my right eye. I think my hair is falling out.
My tonsils are as big as rocks, My elbow's bent, my spine ain't straight,
I've counted sixteen chicken pox My temperature is one-o-eight.
And there's one more—that's seventeen, My brain is shrunk, I cannot hear,
And don't you think my face looks green? There is a hole inside my ear.
My leg is cut—my eyes are blue— I have a hangnail, and my heart is—what?
It might be instamatic flu. What's that? What's that you say?
I cough and sneeze and gasp and choke, You say today is. . .Saturday?
I'm sure that my left leg is broke— G'bye, I'm going out to play!"
My hip hurts when I move my chin,
My belly button's caving in, Shel Silverstein
My back is wrenched, my ankle's sprained,
My 'pendix pains each time it rains.
 So Much Happiness

It is difficult to know what to do with so much happiness.

With sadness there is something to rub against,
a wound to tend with lotion and cloth.
When the world falls in around you, you have pieces to pick up,
something to hold in your hands, like ticket stubs or change.

But happiness floats.

It doesn’t need you to hold it down.
It doesn’t need anything.
Happiness lands on the roof of the next house, singing,
and disappears when it wants to.
You are happy either way.
Even the fact that you once lived in a peaceful tree house
and now live over a quarry of noise and dust
cannot make you unhappy.
Everything has a life of its own,
it too could wake up filled with possibilities
of coffee cake and ripe peaches,
and love even the floor which needs to be swept,
the soiled linens and scratched records . . .

Since there is no place large enough

to contain so much happiness,
you shrug, you raise your hands, and it flows out of you
into everything you touch. You are not responsible.
You take no credit, as the night sky takes no credit
for the moon, but continues to hold it, and share it,
and in that way, be known.

Naomi Shihab Nye

 A Boy and His Dad

A boy and his dad on a fishing-trip— Which is happier, man or boy?

There is a glorious fellowship! The soul of the father is steeped in joy,
Father and son and the open sky For he's finding out, to his heart's delight,
And the white clouds lazily drifting by, That his son is fit for the future fight.
And the laughing stream as it runs along He is learning the glorious depths of him,
With the clicking reel like a martial song, And the thoughts he thinks and his every
And the father teaching the youngster whim;
gay And he shall discover, when night comes on,
How to land a fish in the sportsman's way. How close he has grown to his little son.

I fancy I hear them talking there A boy and his dad on a fishing-trip—
In an open boat, and the speech is fair. Builders of life's companionship!
And the boy is learning the ways of men Oh, I envy them, as I see them there
From the finest man in his youthful ken. Under the sky in the open air,
Kings, to the youngster, cannot compare For out of the old, old long-ago
With the gentle father who's with him Come the summer days that I used to know,
there. When I learned life's truths from my father's lips
And the greatest mind of the human race As I shared the joy of his fishing-trips.
Not for one minute could take his place.
Edgar Guest
 Under the Harvest Moon

Under the harvest moon,

When the soft silver
Drips shimmering
Over the garden nights,
Death, the gray mocker,
Comes and whispers to you
As a beautiful friend
Who remembers.

Under the summer roses

When the flagrant crimson
Lurks in the dusk
Of the wild red leaves,
Love, with little hands,
Comes and touches you
With a thousand memories,
And asks you
Beautiful, unanswerable questions.

Carl Sandburg
 Our Parents Are Planning a Party

Our parents are planning a party,

a feast for their neighbors and friends.
They’re having a big celebration
as soon as the summertime ends.

Our parents are planning a party.

It’s one that they have every year.
My siblings and I always miss it.
They plan it for when we’re not here.

Our parents are planning a party.

We think it’s a little bit cruel
that they always throw a big party
the day that we go back to school.

Kenn Nesbitt
 My Sloth Is Supersonic

My sloth is supersonic
as she sprints around my room.
She flies so fast you’ll often hear her
cause a sonic boom.

My snail is also speedy.

He’s the fastest snail alive.
I’ve seen him flash right past me
when I’m going for a drive.

My turtle hurtles faster than

the record-breaking pace.
So, naturally, my sloth and snail
and turtle love to race.

A week ago, my pets were slow,

which leads me to conclude
they got this way the day
I started feeding them fast food.

Kenn Nesbitt
 Good Morning, Mrs. Hamster

The teacher performed an experiment

she probably shouldn’t have tried.
Some chemicals flashed and exploded.
She ended up frazzled and fried.

Her eyebrows were sizzling and smoking.

Her clothing was covered with soot.
She looked like a cartoon coyote
whose cannon had just gone kaput.

But something astonishing happened

as soon as her test went awry.
The teacher was caught by the shock wave,
and so was her hamster nearby.

The universe inside the blast zone

was literally rearranged,
affecting the teacher and hamster,
and somehow their brains were exchanged.

The hamster climbed up near the blackboard

and handed out homework galore.
The teacher, by contrast, was squeaking
and crawling around on the floor.

The principal quickly came running

the instant he learned of the news.
The hamster said, “Welcome. Please join us.”
Our teacher was sniffing his shoes.

I’m sorry to say our poor teacher

now sits in a cage eating grass.
The principal made her our pet,
and the hamster’s in charge of the class.

Kenn Nesbitt
 We Ate All the Cheetos

We ate all the Cheetos

and all the Doritos
and all of the chocolates and cheese.
We still have some greens
and a can of sardines
and some pickles and parsnips and peas.

We swallowed the sweets,

all the puddings and treats,
and we finished the ice cream and jam.
What’s left is a trout
and a jarful of kraut
and what looks like a turnip or yam.

We drank all the shakes

and we ate all the cakes
and the pies and the fries and the custard.
And yet there’s a lime
and a few sprigs of thyme
and a half-empty bottle of mustard.

It seems we were hasty

in eating the tastiest
snacks we had purchased before.
Now all that’s on hand
is the food we can’t stand.
We might have to go to the store.

Kenn Nesbitt
 Anthropoids

The next time you go to the zoo So the next time you go to the zoo
The zoo The zoo
Slow down for a minute or two Slow down for a minute or two
Or two Or two
And consider the apes And consider the apes
All their sizes and shapes All their sizes and shapes
For they all are related to you For they all are related to you
To you. To you.

Yes, they all are related to you Mary Ann Hoberman

To you
And they all are related to me
To me
To our fathers and mothers
Our sisters and brothers
And all of the people we see
We see.

The chimpanzees, gorillas, and all

And all
The orangutans climbing the wall
The wall
These remarkable creatures
Share most of our features
And the difference between us is small
Quite small.
 The Dog Ate Our Dinner

The table was set for Thanksgiving this year.

Our aunts and our uncles and cousins were here.
Our parents had put out our holiday feast,
and that’s when our doggy turned into a beast.

He jumped on the table and wolfed down the hams.

He polished off all the potatoes and yams.
He gobbled the turkey, the gravy, and greens,
then swallowed the stuffing and all the green beans.

He crammed down the cranberry sauce and the rolls,

and licked every morsel of food from the bowls.
And, when we at last got ahold of our dog,
his lips were still dripping with pie and eggnog.

It’s sort of a shame, but it’s totally clear

we’re going to have to be careful next year
if we want some pie or potatoes or meat,
since this year we only have dog food to eat.

Kenn Nesbitt
 Ice-skating

In winter when the biting breezes

Blow and all the water freeze,
Then it’s time, it’s time to go
Skating on the ice.

Choose a day that’s bright and clear,

Bundle up from toe to ear;
It’s the time, the time of year
For skating on the ice.

I perch upon the snowy rocks

And pull on both my woolen socks;
I lace my skates and tie them fast
And then I’m up and off at last.

I cannot make a figure eight

(I still have trouble going straight)
But just the same I love to skate,
To ice-skate on the ice.

Mary Ann Hoberman

 Lion
Erin had to learn a poem,
A poem to say all quite alone,
Yes, a poem all of her own,
To say in front of class.
She looked in books.
She looked in nooks.
She looked and looked
And looked and looked,
Till she ran out of gas.
She finally said,
“I wish I were dead,
Cause there’s no poem
Inside my head!
“The teacher will make me flunk”, she said;
“I need a poem to pass.”
To make herself feel somewhat better
She went and wrote Bob Munsch a letter,
Hoping he might tell her whether
They could write a poem together.
It couldn’t hurt to ask.
And he sent her back a poem,
A poem to say all quite alone,
Yes, a poem all of her own,
To say in front of class.
Which goes to show,
As you may know,
No matter what stuff life does throw;
It doesn’t hurt to ask.
THE END
Robert Munsh
 Spider

Every morning at my sink send her whirlpooling down the hole

a spider crawls down for a drink. then
She abseils from the window-sill one leg,
then folds up, keeping very still two legs,
until she thinks I've gone away feel their way . . .
then
one leg, Gina Douthwaite
two legs,
feel their way.
They prod, they probe,
legs three
and four
join in the fun. Then even more!
Legs five
and six
extend and lift
hydraulically - she tilts a bit
till hairy members
seven
and eight
receive their message, "ACTIVATE".
And so, across the soapy trickle,
she flits! - black threads of silky tickle -
till tidal waves, tipped from the bowl,
 The Room Went Cold

The room went cold nothing to weigh

and I felt something
like a sticky hand nothing to be
creep along my neck frightened of
and down my spine.
was there?
It trickled down my leg
stroked my foot Sue Stewart
then slid off my toe
and on to the floor.

I stared with one eye

I stared with two eyes
I got my magnifying glass
and my dad's binoculars
and my sister's ruler
and the kitchen scales

so I could see it
measure it
weigh it

but there was

nothing to see

nothing to measure
 Why Are We Hiding?

Why are we hiding in here?

Why are we hiding in here?
What's up? What's there? What makes you stare?
Why are we hiding in here?

Why are we hiding in here?

Is it that breathing noise coming near
Is that the thing I've got to fear?

Why are we hiding in here?

Is it that shape that's begun to appear –
Is that the thing I've got to fear?

Why are we hiding in here?

Is it that outline becoming clear
Is that the thing I've got to fear?

DON'T tell me that there's nothing to fear

I KNOW there's something coming near
And NOTHING you say will make it disappear
OH - WHY are we hiding in here?

Trevor Millum
 THE GLOOM!

What waits? But what runs?

Up the dark alley, When you make up a poem,
Knife sharp and glinting, Blow a loud raspberry
Cooking pot ready. Then sing a daft song.

What lives? THE GLOOM!

Inside the chimney,
Moaning and howling, Kevin McCann
Calling down thunder.

THE GLOOM!

What hides?
Under the wardrobe,
Licking its fat chops,
Grabbing at ankles.

What moves?
Invisibly through you,
Creaking the floorboards,
Making you shudder.

THE GLOOM!

What haunts?
Old empty houses,
Overgrown graveyards,
Your very worst dream.
 Missing Summer

The grass so green,

the sun so bright.
Life seems a dream,
no worries in sight.

Tans and tank tops,

laughter and bliss.
Each moment passes
without even a miss.

Friends and cookouts,

memories and laughs.
Good times to remember,
but how long will it last?

The grass soon fades,

leaves begin to fall.
School replaces sleepovers.
Oh, I'll miss it all.

Destinee
 WINTER IS WARMEST

Winter is the warmest season

Oh, you say you want a reason?

Is it warm when snow piles high and wide?

It is if you're bundled up inside

When it's storming, when it's raining

stay indoors without complaining

Other people like to ski

Or sled down a hill, but not me

While you're bundling up in your jacket

I'm tearing open a hot cocoa packet

I don't mind summer, I'll make that clear

But winter's my favorite time of the year.

Anonymous
 Springy Sidewalk

The people outside on the sidewalk

can’t seem to remain on the ground.
They’re jumping and hopping and springing,
and generally bouncing around.

I’ve never seen anything like it.

It’s such an unusual scene,
as if they have springs in their sneakers,
or bounce on a big trampoline.

I think I know what may have happened

that caused this chaotic event:
Last week they replaced our old sidewalk
with one made of rubber cement!

Kenn Nesbitt
 Funny School Poem

Yes, I ate his homework.

You think I'm a liar!
So kind of you, teacher,
to go and inquire.
It's just that when hungry.
despite what you think.
there's nothing more tasty
than paper and ink,
unless it's some slippers
or brand-new soft shoes,
or maybe a sheet
of some basted raw chews.
I ate all the homework
and part of the couch.
There's so much to eat
and I'm hardly a slouch.
So that is my story.
I'll swear that it's true.
Excuse me for now,
I have text books to chew.

Denise Rodgers
 LET'S PLEDGE BETWEEN US

Let's pledge between us:

to be kind

and remind ourselves every morning

to be respectful and honest and true,

each person
looking out
for the other,

and remind ourselves every morning

to be respectful and honest and true,

doing what's right,

acting responsibly
in fairness
for all,

and remind ourselves every morning

to be respectful and honest and true,

Janet Wong
 Being Brave At Night

The other night 'bout two o'clock, or maybe it was three,

An elephant with shining tusks came chasing after me.
His trunk was wavin' in the air an' spoutin' jets of steam
An' he was out to eat me up, but still I didn't scream
Or let him see that I was scared - a better thought I had,
I just escaped from where I was and crawled in bed with Dad.

One time there was a giant who was horrible to see,

He had three heads and twenty arms, an' he came after me
And red hot fire came from his mouths and every hand was red
And he declared he'd grind my bones and make them into bread.
But I was just too smart for him, I fooled him mighty bad,
Before his hands could collar me I crawled in bed with Dad.

I ain't scared of nothin' that comes pesterin' me at night.

Once I was chased by forty ghosts all shimmery an' white.
An' I just raced 'em round the room an' let 'em think maybe
I'd have to stop an' rest awhile, when they could capture me.
Then when they leapt onto my bed, Oh Gee! But they were mad
To find that I had slipped away an' crawled in bed with Dad.

No giants, ghosts or elephants have dared to come in there

'Coz if they did he'd beat 'em up and chase 'em to their lair.
They just hang 'round the children's rooms
an' snap an' snarl an' bite
An' laugh if they can make 'em yell
for help with all their might.
But I don't ever yell out loud. I'm not that sort of lad,
I slip from out the covers and I crawl in bed with Dad.

Edgar A. Guest.