Poem: Ooey Gooey Worm

Ooey Gooey was a worm

A wiggly worm was he

He climbed upon the railroad tracks

The train he did not see....

...OOOOOEEEE  GOOOOEEE!

by Edwin Larson

Poem: Spider

In spider talk,
"Im glad to meeture!"

means

"I plans ta
catch and
eature
for a tasty
treature!"

Don't go near
the nasty
creature!


by David Harrison

Poem: Bookworm

Books
to us
are
food
for thought.

Bookworms
nibble
what
they
should not.

But though
we
think
the
bookworm's
rude,

book
to him
are
thoughts
for food.


by David Harrison

Poem: The Wind

I saw you toss the kites on high 
And blow the birds about the sky; 
And all around I heard you pass, 
Like ladies' skirts across the grass-- 
O wind, a-blowing all day long, 
O wind, that sings so loud a song! 

I saw the different things you did, 
But always you yourself you hid. 
I felt you push, I heard you call, 
I could not see yourself at all-- 
O wind, a-blowing all day long, 
O wind, that sings so loud a song! 

O you that are so strong and cold, 
O blower, are you young or old? 
Are you a beast of field and tree, 
Or just a stronger child than me? 
O wind, a-blowing all day long, 
O wind, that sings so loud a song! 


by Robert Louis Stevenson

Poem: Beetle

(voice 1)                      (voice 2)

Beetle, Beetle,
why so fast?

                              Out of my way!
                              I must get past!

Beetle, Beetle,
where do you run?

                              Away from the lizard
                              and out of the sun.

Beetle, Beetle
what will you do?

                              I'll drink a drop
                              of morning dew.



*this is a partner poem for two voices, by David HArrison

Poem: Worm

(first voice)	(2nd voice)
Warn any
worm
you happen
to
	HONK!
meet:
A worm should
never
cross
the
	TOOT!
street.
When Pavement's
hot
and cars
are
	SCREECH!
fast,
a worm is
soon
a thing of
the
	SQUISH!
past.

*This is a partner poem for two voices, by David Harrison

Poem: Millipede

Millipede
giggles
wherever
he goes.

Grass
tickles
all of those
toes.


by David Harrison

Poem: Where Go the Boats?

Dark brown is the river.   
  Golden is the sand.   
It flows along for ever,   
  With trees on either hand.   
   
Green leaves a-floating,        
  Castles of the foam,   
Boats of mine a-boating—   
  Where will all come home?   
   
On goes the river   
  And out past the mill,   
Away down the valley,   
  Away down the hill.   
   
Away down the river,   
  A hundred miles or more,   
Other little children   
  Shall bring my boats ashore.

by Robert Louis Stevenson

Poem: A Visit From Saint Nick (Night Before Christmas)

'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house

Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse;

The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,

In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there;

The children were nestled all snug in their beds;

While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads;

And mamma in her 'kerchief, and I in my cap,

Had just settled our brains for a long winter's nap,

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,

I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter.

Away to the window I flew like a flash,

Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow,

Gave a lustre of midday to objects below,

When what to my wondering eyes did appear,

But a miniature sleigh and eight tiny rein-deer,

With a little old driver so lively and quick,

I knew in a moment he must be St. Nick.

More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,

And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name:

"Now, Dasher! now, Dancer! now Prancer and Vixen!

On, Comet! on, Cupid! on, Donner and Blitzen!

To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!

Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!"

As leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,

When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky;

So up to the housetop the coursers they flew

With the sleigh full of toys, and St. Nicholas too—

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof

The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.

As I drew in my head, and was turning around,

Down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound.

He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,

And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot;

A bundle of toys he had flung on his back,

And he looked like a pedler just opening his pack.

His eyes—how they twinkled! his dimples, how merry!

His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!

His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,

And the beard on his chin was as white as the snow;

The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,

And the smoke, it encircled his head like a wreath;

He had a broad face and a little round belly

That shook when he laughed, like a bowl full of jelly.

He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,

And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself;

A wink of his eye and a twist of his head

Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread;

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,

And filled all the stockings; then turned with a jerk,

And laying his finger aside of his nose,

And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose;

He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,

And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.

But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight—

“Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night!”

by Clarke Clement Moore

Poem: Harriet Tubman

Harriet Tubman didn’t take no stuff
Wasn’t scared of nothing neither
Didn’t come in this world to be no slave
And wasn’t going to stay one either

“Farewell!” she sang to her friends one night
She was mighty sad to leave ‘em
But she ran away that dark, hot night
Ran looking for her freedom
She ran to the woods and she ran through the woods
With the slave catchers right behind her
And she kept on going till she got to the North
Where those mean men couldn’t find her

Nineteen times she went back South
To get three hundred others
She ran for her freedom nineteen times
To save Black sisters and brothers
Harriet Tubman didn’t take no stuff
Wasn’t scared of nothing neither
Didn’t come in this world to be no slave
And didn’t stay one either

     And didn’t stay one either

by Eloise Greenfield

Poem: Lincoln

There was a boy of other days,
A quiet, awkward, earnest lad,
Who trudged long weary miles to get
A book on which his heart was set—
And then no candle had!

He was too poor to buy a lamp
But very wise in woodmen’s ways.
He gathered seasoned bough and stem,
And crisping leaf, and kindled them
Into a ruddy blaze.

Then as he lay full length and read,
The firelight flickered on his face,
And etched his shadow on the gloom,
And made a picture in the room,
In that most humble place.

The hard years came, the hard years went,
But, gentle, brave, and strong of will,
He met them all. And when today
We see his pictured face, we say,
“There’s light upon it still.”

by Nancy Turner

Poem: Smart

My dad gave me one dollar bill
'Cause I'm his smartest son,
And I swapped it for two shiny quarters
'Cause two is more then one!
And then I took the quarters
And traded them to Lou
For three dimes-- I guess he didn't know
That three is more than two!
Just then, along came old blind Bates
And just 'cause he can't see
He gave me four nickels for my three dimes,
And four is more than three!
And I took the nickels to Hiram Coombs
Down at the seed-feed store,
And the fool gave me five pennies for them,
And five is more than four!
And I went and showed my dad,
And he got red in the cheeks
And closed his eyes and shook his head--
Too proud of me to speak! 


by Shel Silverstein

Poem: Buffalo Dusk

The buffaloes are gone.
And those who saw the buffaloes are gone.
Those who saw the buffaloes by thousands and how they
pawed the prairie sod into dust with their hoofs, their great
heads down pawing on in a great pageant of dusk,
Those who saw the buffaloes are gone.
And the buffaloes are gone.

by Carl Sandberg

Poem: Discovery

In a puddle left from last week's rain, 

A friend of mine whose name is Joe 

Caught a tadpole, and showed me where 

Its froggy legs were beginning to grow. 

  

Then we turned over a musty log, 

With lichens on it in a row, 

And found some fiddleheads of ferns 

Uncoiling out of the moss below. 

  

We hunted around, and saw the first 

Jack-in-the-pulpits beginning to show, 

And even discovered under a rock 

Where spotted salamanders go.   

I learned all this one morning from Joe,    

But how much more there is to know!

by  Harry Behn

Poem: Caterpillars

What do caterpilalrs do?
Nothing much but chew and chew.

What do caterpillars know?
Nothing much but how to grow.

They just eat what by and by
will make them be a butterfly,

But that is more than I can do
however much I chew and chew.

by Aileen Fisher

Poem: Something Told the Wild Geese

Something told the wild geese
It was time to go,
Though the fields lay golden
Something whispered, "snow."

Leaves were green and stirring,
Berries, luster-glossed,
But beneath warm feathers
Something cautioned, "frost."

All the sagging orchards
Steamed with amber spice,
But each wild breast stiffened
At remembered ice.

Something told the wild geese
It was time to fly,
Summer sun was on their wings,
Winter in their cry.

by Rachel Field