What was your favourite poem as a kid? I liked Shel Silverstein "I Cannot Go To School Today"

[applegrove]

"SNIP..............................

"I cannot go to school today"
Said little Peggy Ann McKay.
"I have the measles and the mumps,
A gash, a rash and purple bumps.

My mouth is wet, my throat is dry.
I'm going blind in my right eye.
My tonsils are as big as rocks,
I've counted sixteen chicken pox.

And there's one more - that's seventeen,
And don't you think my face looks green?
My leg is cut, my eyes are blue,
It might be the instamatic flu.

I cough and sneeze and gasp and choke,
I'm sure that my left leg is broke.
My hip hurts when I move my chin,
My belly button's caving in.


...........................SNIP"

[discntnt_irny_srcsm]

1. Ahhh..... Shel Silverstein....

[applegrove]

3. Did not know Silverstein wrote for such varied audiences. I almost fell off my chair. LOL!

[discntnt_irny_srcsm]

4. People amaze me everyday

The fastest man with the fastest hand goes up in a puff of smoke...

[Xipe Totec]

2. White Roses - José Martí

I harvest only white roses,
in June or in January,
for sincere friends
that extend a hand in friendship.

And for the cruel ones that rip
the living heart from my chest,
neither thistle nor poison ivy do I harvest,
I harvest only white roses.

[grilled onions]

5. Edward,Edward

A very violent poem about a young male, but it was not the violence nor the length of it(it was a tad long) but it told a story without getting directly to the point and the reader never knew where it was headed until the very end. Edward was not a nice fellow.

[coffeenap]

6. The Swing, by Robert Louis Stevenson

How do you like to go up in a swing,
Up in the air so blue?
Oh, I do think it the pleasantest thing
Ever a child can do!

Up in the air and over the wall,
Till I can see so wide,
Rivers and trees and cattle and all
Over the countryside—

Till I look down on the garden green,
Down on the roof so brown—
Up in the air I go flying again,
Up in the air and down!

[applegrove]

7. Love it.

[Art_from_Ark]

15. That poem was featured once in "Bullwinkle's Corner"

[Aristus]

8. My mother had rather ghoulish taste in poetry. She used to read us this one:

The Inchcape Rock



No stir in the air, no stir in the sea,
The Ship was still as she could be;
Her sails from heaven received no motion,
Her keel was steady in the ocean.

Without either sign or sound of their shock,
The waves flow’d over the Inchcape Rock;
So little they rose, so little they fell,
They did not move the Inchcape Bell.

The Abbot of Aberbrothok
Had placed that bell on the Inchcape Rock;
On a buoy in the storm it floated and swung,
And over the waves its warning rung.

When the Rock was hid by the surge’s swell,
The Mariners heard the warning Bell;
And then they knew the perilous Rock,
And blest the Abbot of Aberbrothok

The Sun in the heaven was shining gay,
All things were joyful on that day;
The sea-birds scream’d as they wheel’d round,
And there was joyaunce in their sound.

The buoy of the Inchcape Bell was seen
A darker speck on the ocean green;
Sir Ralph the Rover walk’d his deck,
And fix’d his eye on the darker speck.

He felt the cheering power of spring,
It made him whistle, it made him sing;
His heart was mirthful to excess,
But the Rover’s mirth was wickedness.

His eye was on the Inchcape Float;
Quoth he, “My men, put out the boat,
And row me to the Inchcape Rock,
And I’ll plague the Abbot of Aberbrothok.”

The boat is lower’d, the boatmen row,
And to the Inchcape Rock they go;
Sir Ralph bent over from the boat,
And he cut the bell from the Inchcape Float.

Down sank the Bell with a gurgling sound,
The bubbles rose and burst around;
Quoth Sir Ralph, “The next who comes to the Rock,
Won’t bless the Abbott of Aberbrothok.”

Sir Ralph the Rover sail’d away,
He scour’d the seas for many a day;
And now grown rich with plunder’d store,
He steers his course for Scotland’s shore.

So thick a haze o’erspreads the sky,
They cannot see the sun on high;
The wind hath blown a gale all day,
At evening it hath died away.

On the deck the Rover takes his stand,
So dark it is they see no land.
Quoth Sir Ralph, “It will be lighter soon,
For there is the dawn of the rising Moon.”

“Canst hear,” said one, “the breakers roar?
For methinks we should be near the shore.”
“Now, where we are I cannot tell,
But I wish we could hear the Inchcape Bell.”

They hear no sound, the swell is strong,
Though the wind hath fallen they drift along;
Till the vessel strikes with a shivering shock,
“Oh Christ! It is the Inchcape Rock!”

Sir Ralph the Rover tore his hair,
He curst himself in his despair;
The waves rush in on every side,
The ship is sinking beneath the tide.

But even in his dying fear,
One dreadful sound could the Rover hear;
A sound as if with the Inchcape Bell,
The Devil below was ringing his knell.


- Robert Southey

[applegrove]

10. That reminds me of the "The Wreck of the Hesperus" by Longfellow. It was

my dad's nickname for me because I was always a mess as a kid, with jam and peanut butter in my short hair, plus I was perceptive as a kid. Didn't read the poem till I was an adult.

[Aristus]

11. I read that one, too. Loved it.

And "The Highwayman". And "The Erle-King". And "The Grisly Wife".

I told you: ghoulish taste in poetry. And we kids loved it!

It's like the old saying where when you want to teach someone a foreign language, teach them the profanity first.

Only, if you want to get young kids interested in poetry, read them the cool, violent, bloody stuff first.

[Art_from_Ark]

16. My favorite poem for a while was "The Walrus and the Carpenter"

A duo of rather dubious repute who led innocent little oysters to their doom.

"The Spider and the Fly" was a close second.

[MiddleFingerMom]

9. "Happy Birthday to You!" It had a good beat and you could dance to it. Also...

.
.
.
... it was easy to memorize.
.
.
.

[mia]

12. “When I was One,I had just begun.

A.A. Milne

“When I was One,
I had just begun.
When I was Two,
I was nearly new.
When I was Three
I was hardly me.
When I was Four,
I was not much more.
When I was Five, I was just alive.
But now I am Six, I'm as clever as clever,
So I think I'll be six now for ever and ever.”

http://www.goodreads.com/quotes/729334-when-i-was-one-i-had-just-begun-when-i

I still feel this way and enjoy my life teaching children who are on the cusp of turning six.

[mrmpa]

13. The book "Reflections on a Gift Watermelon Pickle"..........

was a book I received in 7th or 8th grade. It was a collection of poetry, some of the poets were Paul Lawrence Dunbar and others I had never heard of. The following is one of the poems I searched for on line, and I remember it..

During that summer
When unicorns were still possible;
When the purpose of knees
Was to be skinned;
When shiny horse chestnuts
(Hollowed out
Fitted with straws
Crammed with tobacco
Stolen from butts
In family ashtrays)
Were puffed in green lizard silence
While straddling thick branches
Far above and away
From the softening effects
Of civilization;

During that summer--
Which may never have been at all;
But which has become more real
Than the one that was--
Watermelons ruled.

Thick imperial slices
Melting frigidly on sun-parched tongues
Dribbling from chins;
Leaving the best part,
The black bullet seeds,
To be spit out in rapid fire
Against the wall
Against the wind
Against each other;

And when the ammunition was spent,
There was always another bite:
It was a summer of limitless bites,
Of hungers quickly felt
And quickly forgotten
With the next careless gorging.

The bites are fewer now.
Each one is savored lingeringly,
Swallowed reluctantly.

But in a jar put up by Felicity,
The summer which maybe never was
Has been captured and preserved.
And when we unscrew the lid
And slice off a piece
And let it linger on our tongue:
Unicorns become possible again.

John Tobias

[csziggy]

14. "A Boy Is A Boy" by Ogden Nash

There once was a dog
he was really just a pup
But he planned to be a dog when he grew up.
He was black and white and his name was Spot
As many more dogs are named than not.

His master was a boy named Tim
It was him for Tim and Tim for him.

I used to be able to recite the entire poem - including the part:

How much wood can a woodchuck chuck
If a woodchuck could chuck wood?
He'd chuck all the wood a woodchuck could
If a woodchuck could chuck wood!

[Art_from_Ark]

17. In 3rd grade, my favorite poem was "The Elephant and the Telephone"

Once there was an elephant
Who tried to use the telephant
No, no! I mean an elephone
Who tried to use the telephone
(Dear me, I am not certain quite
That even now I've got it right!)
However it was, he got his trunk
Entangled in the telephunk
The more he tried to get it free
The louder buzzed the telephee
(Methinks I'd better drop this song
Of elephunk and telephong!)

[mwdem]

18. The Arab's Farwell to his Steed

I loved horses!

[Broken_Hero]

19. The Cremation of Sam McGhee nt

[Joe Shlabotnik]

20. The Tyger by William Blake

Tyger! Tyger! burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?

In what distant deeps or skies
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand dare sieze the fire?

And what shoulder, & what art.
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
And when thy heart began to beat,
What dread hand? & what dread feet?

What the hammer? what the chain?
In what furnace was thy brain?
What the anvil? what dread grasp
Dare its deadly terrors clasp?

When the stars threw down their spears,
And watered heaven with their tears,
Did he smile his work to see?
Did he who made the Lamb make thee?

Tyger! Tyger! burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?

*My parents were more Beat than Hippie, and similarly, paintings by Henri Rousseau really captured my imagination. In later years reciting 'Tyger' became a feature of many elaborate cat funerals including much Wagner. And/or bag pipes. And viking horns. Seriously..... I take cat funerals seriously.

[applegrove]

21. I certainly hope it was not a viking funeral

for your kitty. Cats hate water. LOL!