I Woke Up This Morning
by Karla Kuskin
I woke up this morning At quarter past seven.
I kicked up the covers And stuck out my toe. And ever since then (That’s
a quarter past seven) They haven’t said anything Other than “no.”
They haven’t said anything Other than “Please, dear, Don’t do what
you’re doing,” Or “Lower your voice.”
Whatever I’ve done And however I’ve chosen, I’ve done the wrong thing
And I’ve made the wrong choice.
I didn’t wash well And I didn’t say thank you. I didn’t shake hands And
I didn’t say please.
I didn’t say sorry When passing the candy. I banged the box into Miss
Witelson’s knees.
I didn’t say sorry.
I didn’t stand straighter.
I didn’t speak louder When asked what I’d said.
Well, I said
That tomorrow
At quarter past seven
They can
Come in and get me.
I’m Staying In Bed.
Throughout the World
Throughout the world Who is there like me? Who is like me?
I touch the sky, Indeed I touch the sky!
a Winnebago Indian song
My Nose by Dorothy Aldis
It doesn’t breathe;
It doesn’t smell;
It doesn’t feel So very well.
I am discouraged With my nose: The only thing it Does is blows.
Sick
by Shel Silverstein
“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 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,
My back is wrenched, my ankle’s sprained, My ‘pendix pains each time it
rains. My nose is cold, my toes are numb, I have a sliver in my thumb.
My neck is stiff, my spine is weak, I hardly whisper when I speak.
My tongue is filling up my mouth, I think my hair is falling out.
My elbow’s bent, my spine ain’t straight, My temperature is one-o-eight.
My brain is shrunk, I cannot hear, There is a hole inside my ear.
I have a hangnail, and my heart is—what? What’s that? What’s that you
say?
You say today is … Saturday? G’bye, I’m going out to play!”
