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The last of those pesky holiday poems

(The above graphic was made with TypeStyler for the Macintosh. 'Tis a super program.)

This is the final installment of my holiday trilogy. Say amen, somebody.

A Gift of Friends

A knock on the door, little feet rush to see. Who could be calling tonight, Christmas eve?

The stranger, he shivered, as the door opened slow. The ground had been frozen beneath a fresh sparkling snow.

Hiya mister! Are you Santy Clause? Did you bring me my gifts?
The man gave a pause.

His coat was worn ragged, no shine for his shoes. No gloves for cold hands. He had little to lose.

Soul food

Here's the second of three holiday themed poems I wrote at least 20 years ago. (The first poem is here.) Looking at this poem now, I don't see any connection at all with the Thanksgiving holiday. Well, except for all that food.

Hungry

Food! Food! Bring it quick!
Feed me soon or I'll be sick.
Fry me taters, slice me rye.
Look lively mate; I'm about to die.
Bring me corned beef. Now set it there.
Where's the mustard? Where's my chair?
I'm so hungry I could bite a bear!
Gobble gobble... burrrp! Ahhhh, there.
Who? What? You're going where?
I don't think you're being fair.
What's eating you? Why this rebuff?
Of course I love you. Quite enough.
Your hands like hams, your arms like steaks,
spun candy hair, your feet like cakes.
What have I done? What can I do?
What do you mean 'I'm starving you.'?
I don't see how. We eat for nine.
Why, just last night - my, how we dined!
Wy do your lips allow a sigh?
Well, before you leave, is there any pie?

I later rewrote the poem in prose. It's reprinted below.

Shel who?

Shel Silverstein, of course! Kids, get your teachers to  visit NPR's 2005 feature where you can hear Shel perform some of his favorites. Then visit his official web site for some hijinks of the juvenile kind. Wheeee!

(If Shel were alive, he'd heartily approve.)

Boo!

I loved Halloween when I was a kid. I learned of Mexico's The Days of the Dead when I moved to New Mexico in 2001.

What is the difference between Halloween and the Day of the Dead?  Halloween is based on a medieval European concept of death, and is populated by demons, witches (usually women) and other images of terror -- all of them negative. The Day of the Dead, in contrast, is distinctly different. It is a uniquely Indo-Hispanic custom that demonstrates strong sense of love and respect for one’s ancestors; celebrates the continuance of life, family relationships, community solidarity and even finds humor after death -- all positive concepts!

(Quote taken from Myth*ing Links.)

I wrote this poem years ago as part of a holiday-themed project. (The three being Halloween, Thanksgiving and Christmas.) I hope you like it.

The End of October

The end of October,
Leaves orange and red.
Three children giggling
As the night of the dead
Floats on a sunset, all orange and red.

Three silly monsters,
All fingers and toes,
Reaching for candy
In greasepaint and bows.
A wish made with chocolate,
A treat for the crows.

Pumpkin head smiles
As cellar door grins.
A star, faraway,
Hums as it spins,
While lengthening shadows
Shiver and grin.

Candy corn kisses
Drifting on moonlight.
It waits in the cellar
The three giggling guests.
Their cheeks like red roses,
The three honored guests.

Quietly hugging, the three close the door.
Beneath cellar stairs lies the damp cellar floor.
In the corner, a basket,
Just a basket, nothing more.
And it rocks, oh-so-gently,
On the damp cellar floor.

The end of October.
Leaves orange and red.
Three silent shadows
Dance with the dead,
As the sun slowly rises,
All orange and red.

Two favorite poets

Our class spent a week with Jack Prelutsky's "A Pizza the Size of the Sun". You can find a treasure trove of Prelutsky's patented nonsense here, as well as three poems on audio, including this favorite. (Thematic units encompassing his poetry here.)

Suzanna Socked Me Sunday

by Jack Prelutsky

Suzanna socked me Sunday,

she socked me Monday, too,

she also socked me Tuesday,

I was turning black and blue.

She socked me double Wednesday,

and Thursday even more,

but when she socked me Friday,

she began to get me sore.

“Enough’s enough,” I yelled at her,

“I hate it when you hit me!”

“Well, then I won’t” Suzanna said—

that Saturday, she bit me.

Shel Silverstein has always been a kids' favorite. You can leverage his classic poem, "Smart", to teach the value of money.

Smart
from the book "Where the Sidewalk Ends" (1974)

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 times - I guess he don't know
That three is more then two!

Just then, along came old blind Bates
And just 'cause he can't see
He gave me four nickles for my three dimes,
And four is more then 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 then four!

And then 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!

Why I Missed Open House

Parents, students, teachers all
gather in the Conlee Halls.
It's Open House, a time to share,
a time for fun, but, where oh where
is Mr. Field?

Snoring, snoring, on a couch he lay.
Snoring, snoring, oblivious to the day.

Ring! RING!! RING!!! The telephone.
He snaps awake with startled moan.
It's Mrs. James - Open House is through.
It's 7:40. So where were you?

Snoring, snoring, on his couch he lay.
Snoring, snoring, the waning of the day.

I write these lines on Wednesday morn.
Self-loathing greets regret and scorn.
To make amends for my disgrace
There's but one answer - I'll shave my face!

Snoring, snoring, on his back he lay.
Snoring, ignoring, the darkening of the day.

My tale is over, now please make note.
In order not to miss your boat,
eat something light, then walk a block.
And always, ALWAYS, set your clock.

Snoring, snoring, on a couch he lay.
Snoring, boring, he missed another day.

Yikes! It's cold outside!

I love Robert Service's poem, "The Cremation of Sam McGee." Actually, it's probably the only poem I remember from school days.

Our class didn't get the ending on our first reading, but after a few repetitions over the following days, along with some explanations from me, the surprise ending began to make some kind of sense.

Scott Simon and Daniel Pinkwater present a fine introduction to the poem, but I'm afraid their oral reading of the lines is pretty bad. I recommend Johnny Cash's interpretation.

Here's a good web presentation of the poem.

Tell us how you like the poem in the Comments section.

I like funny poems. Do you like funny poems?

Do you like funny poems? Poems that make you giggle? Poems that make you laugh? Poems that make you snort? Poems that cause milk to come out your nose?

I found a treasure trove of funny poems at Poetry4Kids. Check it out!
(Here's one called Mithing Tooth.)