My Dog Does My Homework

My dog does my homework
at home every night.
He answers each question
and gets them all right.

There’s only one problem
with homework by Rover.
I can’t turn in work
that’s been slobbered all over.

Written by Ken Nesbitt

Unique

Always remember that you’re unique
Unequalled, uncommon, c’est magnifique
One of a kind, quite special and rare
Singular, original, not one of a pair
Special, the exeptional you embody
Your’re really unique, just like everybody

Author: Paul Curtis

The Arrow and the Song

I shot an arrow into the air,
It fell to earth, I knew not where;
For, so swiftly it flew, the sight
Could not follow it in its flight.

I breathed a song into the air,
It fell to earth, I knew not where;
For who has sight so keen and strong,
That it can follow the flight of song?

Long, long afterward, in an oak
I found the arrow, still unbroke;
And the song, from beginning to end,
I found again in the heart of a friend.

Author: Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

From: The Book of Nonsense

There was a Young Lady whose chin,
Resembled the point of a pin;
So she had it made sharp,
And purchased a harp,
And played several tunes with her chin.

Author: Edward Lear

(This is my daughter’s favorite Poet!)

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.

Author: Shel Silverstein

My Shadow

I have a little shadow that goes in and out with me,
And what can be the use of him is more than I can see
He is very, very like me from the heels up to the head,
And I see him jump before me, when I jump into my bed.

The funniest thing about him is the way he likes to grow-
Not at all like proper children, which is always very slow;
For he sometimes shoots up taller like an India-rubber ball,
And he sometimes gets so lieelt that there’s none of him at all.

He hasn’t got a notion of how children ought to play,
And can only make a fool of me in every sort of way.
He stays so close beside me, he’s a coward you can see;
I’d think shame to stick to nursie as that shadow sticks to me!

One morning, very early, before the sun was up,
I rose and found the shining dew on every buttercup;
But my lazy little shadow, like an arrant sleepy-head,
Had stayed at home behind me and was fast asleep in bed.

Author: Robert Louis Stevenson</p

The Trouble Is -

The trouble is no one appreciates me.
If I look at myself, I can honestly see
All the good things I am,
All the great things begun.
But all they can see is
The things left undone.
You forgot to say thanks.
Pick your clothes off the floor.
Can’t you wash your hands clean?
Will you please shut the door?
What a mess in the sink.
Do stop teasing the cat.
Have you proacticed one hour?
Did you have to say that?
Can’t you part your hair straight?
Don’t you ever agree?

The trouble is no one appreciates me.

Author: Myra Cohn Livingston

Myra Cohn Livingston has written many books of poetry including:
The Song I Sang to You
4-Way Stop and Other Poems
Worlds I know and Other Poems
She has been a poet-in-residence, a university instructor, and a professional musician.

Floradora Doe

Consider the calamity
of Floradora Doe,
who talked to all her plants, because
she thought it helped them grow,
she recited to her ivy,
to her fennel, ferns, and phlox,
she chatted with her cacti
in their little window box.

She murmered to her mosses,
and she yammered to her yew,
she babbled to her basil,
to her borage and bamboo,
she lectured to her laurels,
to her lilac and her lime,
she whispered to her willows,
and she tittered to her thyme.

She gossiped with a poppy,
and she prattled to a rose,
she regaled her rhododendrons
with a constant stream of prose,
then suddenly, one morning,
every plant keeled over, dead.
“Alas!” moaned Foradora.
“Was it something that I said?”

Author: Jack Prelutsky

Jack was named the first Children’s Poet Laureate by the Poetry Foundation in 2006. He has written numerous books of poetry and lives in Seattle, Washington.
Visit his website for a whimsical journey through his artwork and poetry – and for fun activities!

Have You Ever Seen?

Have you ever seen a sheet on a river bed?
Or a single hair from a hammer’s head?
Has the foot of a mountain any toes?
And is there a pair of garden hose?

Does the needle ever wink its eye?
Why doesn’t the wing of a building fly?
Can you tickle the ribs of a parasol?
Or open the trunk of a tree at all?

Are the teeth of a rake ever going to bite?
Have the hands of a clock any left or right?
Can the garden plot be deep and dark?
And what is the sound of the birch’s bark?

Author: Anonymous

What do the “sights” in the poem have in common – what makes the poem funny?

Do you know about homographs? A homograph is a word that is spelled the same way but has a different meaning based on how it is used in a sentence:
- The bark of a dog or the bark of a tree.
- One can plant a tree or buy a green plant.
Can you think of other homographs not used in this poem?

Bee! I’m Expecting You!

Bee! I’m expecting you!
Was saying Yesterday
To Somebody you know
That you were due –

The Frogs got Home last Week -
Are settled, and at work -
Birds, mostly back -
The Clover warm and thick –

You’ll get my Letter by
The seventeenth; Reply
Or better, be with me -
Yours, Fly.

Author: Emily Dickinson

Emily Dickinson lived from 1830 to 1886 in Amherst, Massachusetts, USA. She wrote poetry mostly in secret for herself and was generally unknown as an author until her poems were found after she died. Only 7 of the 1,774 poems she wrote were published during her lifetime. Her birthplace is a USA National Historic Landmark.

There Was A Little Girl

 

There was a little girl,
Who had a little curl,
Right in the middle of her forehead.
When she was good,
She was very good indeed,
But when she was bad she was horrid.

Author: Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807-1882) was the most well known and loved American poet of his time. He was know world-wide and was invited to Windsor Palace by Queen Victoria. Much of his poetry is as familiar to us as rhymes from Mother Goose or the words of nursery songs , like the poem written here.

Television

The most important thing we’ve learned,
So far as children are concerned,
Is never, NEVER, NEVER let
Them near your television set –
Or better still, just don’t install
The idiotic thing at all.
In almost every house we’ve been,
We’ve watched them gaping at the screen.
They loll and slop and lounge about,
And stare until their eyes pop out.
(Last week in someone’s place we saw
A dozen eyeballs on the floor.)
They sit and stare and stare and sit
Until they’re hypnotised by it,
Until they’re absolutely drunk
With all that shocking ghastly junk.
Oh yes, we know it keeps them still,
They don’t climb out the window sill,
They never fight or kick or punch,
They leave you free to cook the lunch
And wash the dishes in the sink –
But did you ever stop to think,
To wonder just exactly what
This does to your beloved tot?
IT ROTS THE SENSE IN THE HEAD!
IT KILLS IMAGINATION DEAD!
IT CLOGS AND CLUTTERS UP THE MIND!
IT MAKES A CHILD SO DULL AND BLIND
HE CAN NO LONGER UNDERSTAND
A FANTASY, A FAIRYLAND!
HIS BRAIN BECOMES AS SOFT AS CHEESE!
HIS POWERS OF THINKING RUST AND FREEZE!
HE CANNOT THINK — HE ONLY SEES!
‘All right!’ you’ll cry. ‘All right!’ you’ll say,
‘But if we take the set away,
What shall we do to entertain
Our darling children? Please explain!’
We’ll answer this by asking you,
‘What used the darling ones to do?
‘How used they keep themselves contented
Before this monster was invented?’
Have you forgotten? Don’t you know?
We’ll say it very loud and slow:
THEY … USED … TO … READ! They’d READ and READ,
AND READ and READ, and then proceed
To READ some more. Great Scott! Gadzooks!
One half their lives was reading books!
The nursery shelves held books galore!
Books cluttered up the nursery floor!
And in the bedroom, by the bed,
More books were waiting to be read!
Such wondrous, fine, fantastic tales
Of dragons, gypsies, queens, and whales
And treasure isles, and distant shores
Where smugglers rowed with muffled oars,
And pirates wearing purple pants,
And sailing ships and elephants,
And cannibals crouching ’round the pot,
Stirring away at something hot.
(It smells so good, what can it be?
Good gracious, it’s Penelope.)
The younger ones had Beatrix Potter
With Mr. Tod, the dirty rotter,
And Squirrel Nutkin, Pigling Bland,
And Mrs. Tiggy-Winkle and-
Just How The Camel Got His Hump,
And How the Monkey Lost His Rump,
And Mr. Toad, and bless my soul,
There’s Mr. Rate and Mr. Mole-
Oh, books, what books they used to know,
Those children living long ago!
So please, oh please, we beg, we pray,
Go throw your TV set away,
And in its place you can install
A lovely bookshelf on the wall.
Then fill the shelves with lots of books,
Ignoring all the dirty looks,
The screams and yells, the bites and kicks,
And children hitting you with sticks-
Fear not, because we promise you
That, in about a week or two
Of having nothing else to do,
They’ll now begin to feel the need
Of having something to read.
And once they start — oh boy, oh boy!
You watch the slowly growing joy
That fills their hearts. They’ll grow so keen
They’ll wonder what they’d ever seen
In that ridiculous machine,
That nauseating, foul, unclean,
Repulsive television screen!
And later, each and every kid
Will love you more for what you did.

Author: Roald Dahl

The beloved children’s author, Roald Dahl, first became interested in writing children’s books by making up bedtime stories for his daughters Olivia and Tessa. This is how James and the Giant Peach was created. He has written numerous poems, short stories and books for children, teens and adults and is a talented artist and illustrator. His writing has been translated and published in 34 languages.

Cricket

 

The cheerful cricket, when he sings
To celebrate fall weather,
Lifts high the scrapers on his wings
And fiddles them together.

And when some juicy ant he sees,
His bulby eyballs glisten.
He tucks his ears beneath his knees
And lifts a leg to listen.

Imagine – what if you or I
Were laid out like a cricket
And had an ear beside our knee?
That might be just the ticket.

For if you didn’t want to hear
The loudest band that rocks,
Why, all you’d do to shut your ears
Is yank up both your sock.

Author: X.J. Kennedy

Mr. X.J. Kennedy, an English Professor, wrote mainly for adults until Myra Cohn Livingston encouraged him to publish his works for children. He added the “X” to his name to distinguish himself from the famous Kennedy Family. Among his many works for children are:
The Kite That Braved Old Orchard Beach
Brats and
Knock at a Star.

i have looked into
my father’s eyes and seen an
african sunset

Author: Sonia Sanchez

A bantam rooster
spreading his ruff of feathers
thinks he’s a lion!

Author: Kikaku (translated by Harry Behn)

Tall

 

So tall was a cowboy called Slouch
He was taller than most in a crouch.
When a horse stomped his toe,
Pain had so far to go
Slouch three days later said, “Ouch!”

Author: Anonymous.

Mosquitoes

Out on the porch,
near the light,
mosquitos dance
and hum
and bite

and itch my arms
into red rings,
and the stuff
Mom puts on them
smarts and stings.

Both of my legs
have ugly spots
and welts of
pinkish
polka dots,

so all through summer
every week,
I smell like
a bottle
of campho-phenique,

and what isn’t red
is a chalky pink
from the calamine lotion
that makes me
stink,

but it’s better
than staying in
at night

Author: Myra Cohn Livingston

The Owl and The Pussy-Cat

 

I

The Owl and the Pussy-cat went to sea
In a beautiful pea-green boat,
They took some honey, and plenty of money,
Wrapped up in a five-pound note.
The Owl looked up to the stars above,
And sang to a small guitar,
‘O lovely Pussy! O Pussy, my love,
What a beautiful Pussy you are,
You are,
You are!
What a beautiful Pussy you are!’

II

Pussy said to the Owl, ‘You elegant fowl!
How charmingly sweet you sing!
O let us be married! too long we have tarried:
But what shall we do for a ring?’
They sailed away, for a year and a day,
To the land where the Bong-tree grows
And there in a wood a Piggy-wig stood
With a ring at the end of his nose,
His nose,
His nose,
With a ring at the end of his nose.

III

‘Dear Pig, are you willing to sell for one shilling
Your ring?’ Said the Piggy, “I will.”
So they took it away, and were married next day
By the Turkey who lives on the hill.
They dined on mince, and slices of quince,
Which they ate with a runcible spoon;
And hand in hand, on the edge of the sand,
They danced by the light of the moon,
The moon,
The moon,
They danced by the light of the moon.

Author: Edward Lear

On The Wings of A Butterfly

 

Your friendship is special
Like the flowers that bloom,
Or when a butterfly emerges
From within its cocoon…

You remind me of that butterfly,
Loving and free,
Bright and colorful,
For the world to see…

We will share sunshine and rainbows;
Sometimes, the rain and the snow;
We’ll stand together through it,
While the cold winds blow…

When the time is right,
We won’t stop to ask “Why?”
Our friendship will take flight
On the wings of a butterfly …

Author: Corky Ferguson

I Wandered Lonely As A Cloud

 

I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o’er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced; but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not but be gay,
In such a jocund company:
I gazed–and gazed–but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.

Author: William Wordsworth

Writing is…

scribing
inscribing
prescribing
transcribing

wording
rewording
forewording

tending
intending
extending

pressing
expressing
impressing
compressing

citing
inciting
exciting

creating
co-creating
re-creating

forming
reforming
transforming

instructing
constructing
obstructing

posing
imposing
proposing
composing

selecting
connecting
correcting
perfecting

Author: Francisco Gomes De Matos

In Tune With Mother Nature

If you listen for the songbirds
As they greet the summer sun,
And love the way the wind can make
The trees sings just for fun;

If you like to hear the ocean
As it drums upon the shore,
And imagine all the whales out there,
And hope they’ll sing some more;

If you think of all the animals
As players in a band,
Each with a lovely tune to play,
All needed on the land;

And know that as a boy or girl
A woman or a man
You have a vital role to play
In Mother Nature’s plan;

If you honor every living thing
As a part of nature’s treasure
You’re in tune with Mother Nature
So let’s all sing her song together.

Source: CanTeach.ca

The Road Not Taken

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, as just as fair
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that, the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
two roads diverged in a wood, and I –
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

Author: Robert Frost

Mother Doesn’t Want A Dog

 

Mother doesn’t want a dog.
Mother says they smell,
And never sit when you say sit,
Or even when you yell.
And when you come home late at night
And there is ice and snow,
You have to go back out because
The dumb dog has to go.

Mother doesn’t want a dog.
Mother says they shed,
And always let the strangers in
And bark at friends instead,
And do disgraceful things on rugs,
And track mud on the floor,
And flop upon your bed at night
And snore their doggy snore.
Mother Doesn’t Want A Dog

Mother doesn’t want a dog.
She’s making a mistake.
Because, more than a dog, I think
She will not want this snake.

Author: Judith Viorst
Judith Viorst is a well-known writer, most notably for the “Alexander…” series of children’s books.

Meatloaf

 

My mother made a meatloaf
but I think she made it wrong.
It could be that she cooked it
just a little bit too long.

She pulled it from the oven;
and we all began to choke.
The meatloaf was on fire
and the kitchen filled with smoke.

The smoke detectors squealed
at all the flaming meatloaf haze.
My father used his drink
to try extinguishing the blaze.

Mom shrieked and dropped the meatloaf;
it exploded with a boom,
and splattered blackened globs on
every surface in the room.

The dog passed out. The kitten hid.
My brother screamed and fled.
The baby ate a piece of meatloaf
sticking to her head.

My father started yelling
and my sister went berserk.
But I kept cool and said, “at least
our smoke detectors work.”

Authors: Linda Knaus and Kenn Nesbitt